FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 27
Warning Level (1-10): 4
You struggle to keep up as Fred and George tug you through the halls of Hogwarts castle.
"Slow down!" you pant.
"We can't! We're losing daylight," the twins say together, still pulling you along.
"It's only 1:30," you huff under your breath.
Eventually, the three of you reach the Quidditch stadium field. At once, Fred and George call out, "Accio Cleansweep!" Seconds later, two broomsticks seem to come out of nowhere and into the twins' open hands.
Fred turns to George and asks, "D'you think Ginny would mind if we borrowed her broomstick?"
"Not if we said it was for y/n to use," George responds.
You shake your head. "No, don't bother. I can't fly on my own."
"Really?" George says. "But you must've taken Madam Hooch's flying class during your first year."
"I did, but I barely passed," you chuckle, embarrassed to admit it. "I don't trust myself to be so high up. I get all shaky."
"Wow! Finally, something that y/n isn't good at!" Fred exclaims.
You roll your eyes and shove his arm playfully.
"So you've got a fear of heights?" George asks disappointedly.
"No, no," you quickly clarify, shaking your head. "That's not it. If anything, I love the view more than anyone. I even enjoy a good climbing tree here and there. I just... Let's just say I can depend on my smarts more than I can my athletic skills," you laugh. Fred and George smile at this, causing you to become bashful, but you quickly shake it off. "I'm alright if I'm flying with someone who knows what they're doing."
"Well, you're in luck, y/n!" says Fred. "Because we know exactly what we're doing." Both twins mount their brooms. You watch in awe as Fred takes off, using his long legs to push himself from the ground and into the air. He hovers about ten feet away, waiting for you and George to join him.
"Come on then!" George encourages. He scoots forward on his broom and delicately pats the open space behind him in invitation.
You take in a deep breath. "Okay."
You nervously move to sit behind George, your heart beat quickening as you wrap your arms around his waist. You can't help but acknowledge how strong his torso feels.
"Try not to enjoy this too much," George says jokingly, though you're half-certain he must've read your mind.
"I was about to tell you the same thing," you gingerly laugh. You're glad that George can't see your furious blushing, but Fred can. He grins knowingly down at you, and you hide behind George in humiliation.
George chuckles. "Ready?"
"I haven't done this in years, so please start slow," you plead, tightening your hold on him.
"Sure thing," he replies. He steadies his feet flat on the ground and you shut your eyes tight. You anticipate the jerk of the lift off, but for a moment too long you don't feel anything.
"Open your eyes, y/n," you hear one of the twins say.
You open your eyes to see Fred floating alongside you. He smiles cheerily. You look down at the green field far below and gasp, clinging to George in fear. The twins laugh.
"Careful now. Hug me any tighter and I won't be able to breath," George wheezes exaggeratedly.
"Sorry," you apologize, loosening your hold around his waist.
Fred snorts. "He's not."
You laugh and George shamelessly shrugs.
You watch anxiously as Fred soars away. He spins around to fly upside down and performs loop-de-loops for your entertainment. You start to let go of George to applaud, but quickly catch yourself and grab George's waist once more.
"That was brilliant, Fred!" you yell.
George looks over his shoulder to grin at you. "Would you like to try that?" he asks.
"No!" you instantly shout. You clear your throat. "No, thank you," you finish sheepishly.
"Alrighty then," George chortles. "We'll just cruise for a bit."
You hold on tight as George gradually takes you higher in a wide spiral. He stops once you're level with Hogwarts' astronomy tower. The view of the castle, the rippling lake, and the surrounding mountains from so high up takes your breath away.
"Wow... how beautiful," you sigh in amazement.
"Not as beautiful as you," both twins say in unison as Fred flies up to float at your side once more.
"Aw, thank you, guys," you giggle, grinning at Fred. You rest your head on George's back and give him an affectionate squeeze. You feel his muscles relax as he sighs happily.
In that moment, you are so utterly content. You close your eyes peacefully and feel the cold wind on your face. You can hear the faint sound of birds chirping in the trees down below. You inhale the smell of honey and redwood coming off of George's sweater. And with the twins so near, there's nothing else that could make you happier.
The word "love" forms in your mind, and you can almost feel it forming on your tongue, but you force yourself to remain silent. You still wonder if it's too soon to confess, even if your feelings are obvious.
Without speaking another word, Fred flies forward towards the lake. You and George follow at a slower speed. You lean to the side to see past George and watch as Fred dips down, barely missing the edge of the trees before reaching the lakeshore. George does the same, though he descends gently.
You fly over the lake, so close to the water's surface. George reaches out with one hand and strokes the small waves, splashing droplets in your direction. You squeal in surprise.
"Hey!" you laugh, and George laughs with you.
You and George follow behind Fred as he soars higher into the sky, up, around, and over Hogwarts castle. You realize that you've never felt so free. You start to holler with gladness and the twins join in. The three of you whoop, cheer, and laugh. But, eventually, you feel your fingers freezing up in the rushing, winter air, and you sadly request that George bring you to the ground.
You and George land back in the quidditch field with Fred not far behind. After managing to get off the broom without tipping over, you move to George on wobbly legs.
In your extreme happiness, you throw yourself onto him, pulling George into a passionate kiss. He's caught by surprise at first, but soon drops his broom and returns the gesture with even more passion. He crushes your body to his, his lips moving against yours with an overwhelming ferocity. You almost believe you're going to faint until you spot Fred dismounting his broom. You finish your kiss with George fiercely, leaving him gasping for air, before running to Fred.
Fred has already tossed his broom to the side and welcomes you with a joyful grin and open arms. You leap, and he catches you in a bear hug. You crash your lips to his and he responds accordingly, moving perfectly in sync. You cup his face with both of your ice-cold hands, but he doesn't care. He holds you like he'll never get to hold you again, clutching your waist so tight that you eventually can't breathe. You reluctantly break the heavy kiss, and, after a moment of both of you panting in recovery, Fred sets you down.
George has come to join the two of you, and you give both of the twins one more quick hug and kiss.
"George," you say after pulling away. "Fred..." You can't hold back the strong emotions inside of you. "I think... I think I loveâ"
"Weasley! Y/l/n!" a sickeningly familiar voice rings throughout the stadium, and the three of you freeze in place. You slowly turn around, dread welling up in your stomach, to find that the voice belongs to none other than Professor Umbridge.
"God, as much as I love you, your brother will kill me if he finds me with my tongue down your throat," Stiles said, pulling away just enough to get that one sentence out before he was hauling you back in for a kiss.
You hummed, trailing kisses down his neck as you ran your hands up his stomach. "I don't care, he'd have to get through me."
"Shit, shit, baby, just... oh, who am I kidding?" Stiles muttered to himself, cupping your face in his hands so he could pull you in for another breath-taking kiss.
You grinned against his mouth, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Nobody, now," you told him, pushing him back onto the bed so that you could climb into his lap.
"Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?" he asked, sliding his hands up the back of your shirt to fidget with your bra clasp. "Because, really, you are one of the most beautiful, ethereal, b--- mh!"
"Stiles, less talking, more kissing," you said, sliding one hand down his abdomen, towards the waistband of his jeans.
The sound he let out was nearly a whimper, and it had you grinning against his mouth, especially when he looked up at you like you'd already started.
"Hey, sis, can I--- what the fuck!"
Scott was standing in the doorway, cringing away from the scene with a hand over one of his eyes, and the other was squinted. He looked so fucking stupid.
"Heyyyyyy Scotty," Stiles drawled, cringing at the sound of his own voice.
"Stiles, get your hands out of my sister's shirt," Scott demanded. "Now!"
"Stiles, keep your hands right where they are. This is what he gets for barging in unannounced!"
"You have super hearing!" Scott argued, still half torn between looking and not.
"I was a little distracted, Scott. Like you've never gotten distracted with Allison," you said, rolling your eyes.
"Allison isn't my best friend's sister!" Scott snapped.
You rolled your eyes. "What did you need Scott?"
"Right now I need to bleach my brain and my eyes. I needed the notes for---"
"No, get them from Allison or Lydia. If you can't pay attention in class, that's not my fault. Now leave, before you see something else you don't want to see."
Scott looked like he wanted to argue, but a small shift from you had Stiles making another noise, and Scott slammed the door on his way out, practically screaming.
"He's going to murder me the next time we're alone," Stiles muttered.
"Don't worry about him for right now, I think we were in the middle of something," you murmured, nuzzling Stiles' jaw.
"You're right, what was I worried about?" he asked as you tugged your shirt off.
summary: penelope plans an office secret santa. she rigs the selection pool so that some of her best friends can finally act on their feelings.
warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, anybody who does not have an age indicator in their bio will be blocked if u interact, iâm on a huge the office kick so their gift exchange was loosely inspired by jim and pamâs in season 2, m*eve mentions (incredibly brief and she has no role in the fic), fingering f receiving, oral m receiving, unprotected p in v (wrap it irl folks đŤĄ) not proofread rip
a/n: dividers from @cafekitsune !! inspired by prompt 2 on this prompt list! also my first ever smut ficâŚiâm sry if itâs #hrble
the soft nip of a virginia winter bites through the air as you walk arm in arm with emily and penelope into rossiâs house. youâre fuzzy on christmas spirit and the wine bottle the three of you shared at emilyâs place before leaving. in order to prepare for the bau secret santa, penelope insisted on the three of you getting together a few hours beforehand to drink and gossip and wrap presents, since none of you had chosen each otherâs names.
this get together led to the clicks of your heels shakily echoing against cobblestone as the three of you stumble up the steps to his large mansion. your giggles ring through the air as rossi opens the door, chatter from the living room flowing out to the porch.
âhello ladies! you look great!â he greets, moving off to the side so you guys could enter through the foyer. the place was aglow from top to bottom with gold and white christmas decorations, complete with a tree you could see tucked into the corner of the spacious living room, now full to the brim with your coworkers and their family.
youâre juggling your present, another wine bottle, and your purse as you struggle to fit your appetizer on the kitchen island. itâs not an easy task, considering that itâs covered from corner to corner in various holiday treats. before you can get too frustrated, though, a large hand palms at the small of your back, causing you to turn your head.
âhey! i didnât see you come in,â the cheery voice of your closest coworker, spencer, lights up your chest as it fills your ears. âcan i help you with anything, sweet girl?â
âhi spence! i just got here,â you shoot him a sweet smile, âyou could take this wine bottle? i donât want to drop it,â you chuckle as you maneuver the bottle around your bag, which spencer ends up grabbing before reaching for the wine bottle.
you feel a bolt of electricity pierce through your chest as spencerâs fingers brush against yours, his own breath hitching at the contact. you dart your eyes up and suddenly realize how close you are to him, your cheeks burning as a flush rises to spencerâs.
âthanks,â you mumble sheepishly as spencer moves to set down your things, eyes still lingering on your form.
you finally tear your eyes away from each other and you smooth down your red mini sweater dress, desperate for something to do with your hands. spencer pads back over to you and you make sure to hide your present for him behind an extravagantly tall dessert penelope prepared for the event.
âwhat did you make?â he shoots you a goofy smile as he props his chin on your shoulder, watching as you unwrap the dessert that you brought.
âi found this amazing recipe for pumpkin cheesecake cookies on pinterest, i had to make them!â your manicured nails rise to scratch at his messy curls, and he wraps his arm around your waist.
âthat sounds amaaaazing,â he drags the word out as he sways you back and forth, going to reach for a cookie.
you rest the back of your head against his shoulder and watch him as he takes a bite. your heart rate picks up as his eyes fall closed, a soft groan emitting from his throat. you long to kiss him, the twist of your heart when you remember that you canât overwhelms you, your chest constraining with a funny feeling.
âthat is so good, youâre an amazing baker,â he praises you, mouth full of pumpkin cheesecake.
âthanks,â you giggle, your dopey smiling faces mere inches away from each other. the warmth of the candlelight in rossiâs kitchen combined with the fuzziness from the wine made you light headed, a giddy grin spreading across your face.
you watch his face, scanning over every detail. if you were asked, you think youâd be able to recite each individual feature from memory. you see a flush deepen his already wine tinted cheeks as he sheepishly returns your smile. a chuckle escapes his lips, his breath fanning over your lips. the sensation allows your mind to wander, dreaming of a different scenario in which you might feel his breath on your lips, his face so close to yours.
youâre lost in the swirling vortex of his eyes, in so deep that you completely forget youâre all but cuddling your coworker in the middle of your bossâ kitchen. youâre drawn back to reality by the high pitched squeals of jj and penelope entering the kitchen. you and spencer both flinch, darting apart from the other as if you were magnets, eager to deflect the other. your cheeks redden even more, if possible, and spencer clears his throat. any hope you had of seeming casual were officially out the window.
âoh-hey guys!â emily chirps, hopefully too drunk to pick up on the fact that her entrance feels like being blanketed in ice cold water, the loss of spencerâs comforting chest by your back has you feeling numb.
âwhat are you two looovebirds up to?â jj playfully sung as she tipsily threw herself between you two, arms slinking over both your shoulders. âyou look so gorgeous!â she lovingly yells, diffusing any tension formed by her callout. profilers.
âthanks babe!â you chirp back, leaping at the opportunity for a subject change, âyou do too! i love this green,â your eyes light up, pawing at the gorgeous emerald cashmere hugging her shoulders.
âthanks! we came to get you guys because weâre doing presents! grab yours and letâs go to the living room!â she herds you and spencer in the right direction while emily hands you another glass of wine.
the fireplace crackles and pops as you snuggle into emilyâs side, taking sips of your wine glasses in unison. your eyes light up and you clink your glasses together, a little cheers in celebration. the large christmas tree in the corner basks the room in a soft golden glow, setting an idyllic scene for your gift exchange.
itâs your turn to reach for your present laying on the table, teasingly moving around the circle of your coworkers before plopping it onto spencerâs lap, his surprised chuckle setting off a swirl of butterflies in your stomach.
âno way!â he excitedly leaps up, grabbing his present from the table, âi have you too!â
you squeal in delight, trading your gifts and eagerly pawing at the wrapping paper and ribbon. you uncover a pink knit sweater with sweet white hearts adorning the neckline and sleeve cuffs.
âspencer!â you squeal, hugging the sweater to your chest, âthis is beautiful! where did you get it?â you ask, eyes lighting up as you look at him.
âi made it,â he replies sheepishly, his lips pressing together to form a bashful spencer smile.
âyou made this?â your heart swells like a balloon, the irresistible man before you taking up every corner of your chest. âitâs incredible, thank you,â you launch yourself at him, the wine igniting bravery you normally wouldnât have in front of spencer.
you wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle your face into his shoulder. you feel his hands wander down your sides, your waist, your back, and you manage to pull yourself away before your coworkers can tell you to get a room.
you settle in his lap, wiggling your ass around on his thigh to get comfortable. you know youâre teasing, not offering much reprieve from the way your body felt under his fingertips, but he welcomes you with open arms anyway, even if his face is beet red.
âhereâs what i have for you,â you abashedly hand him a small rectangular gif. nerves strike you as he starts to unwrap your gift, fearing itâs nowhere near as good as a handmade sweater.
âhey!â he exclaims, pulling out a polished copy of the grapes of wrath, âi lost my copy the last time we went to la. how did you know?â
âyou said something to me about it! itâs a first edition. i hope you like it,â you nuzzle your cheek into his bicep and he rests his chin on your head. âi love it,â he replies, shooting you a goofy grin, âthank you.â
âalright lovebirds,â penelope chimes in, bursting your romantic bubble, ânext pair!â
you playfully roll your eyes as jj moves toward the middle, reaching for her gift. âiâm gonna go put my sweater on!â you whisper to spencer, slinking out of the living room.
in the peace and quiet of rossiâs guest bedroom, you unfold the beautiful baby pink sweater, sneaking your hand through the bottom to open up the garment. to your surprise, a tiny piece of paper falls out from inside the sweater, swirling to the ground like a snowflake. you sit on the bed and unfold it, spencerâs scratchy handwriting dances across the lines.
hey, you,
i do not plan on ever giving this to you. if you are reading this, i will have no choice but to blame penelope. i have to say this somewhere, somehow, because if i donât, iâll bottle it up until i explode. iâm in love with you.
your jaw drops, brain not quite yet comprehending that this note was found in your sweater, itâs for you. spencer is in love with you. you keep reading.
you make my days better. when weâre halfway across the country, and weâve seen some of the most horrific things mankind has to offer, i see you, and it all feels a little bitâŚless. youâre there, so things canât be that bad. iâve wrestled with accepting affection my entire life. i thought that maeve was my one shot. when she died, i thought that was it for me. i was ready to give up and accept that maybe there isnât someone for everyone. but then i met you, and i fell in love. you have all of me. merry christmas.
yours truly,
spencer
tears threaten to push over your lash line as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. your heart burns and twists and aches as you process the words on the page. you have all of me. that sentence alone was enough to give the butterflies in your stomach a field day. youâre ripped out of your thoughts when the door swings open, spencer standing shellshocked in the doorway. his face goes white when he sees whatâs in your hand.
âhey! you werenât supposed to read that,â he squeaks, snatching the paper from you, prompting you to stand from the bed. âplease tell me you didnât read the whole thing. or any of it. please.â
âspencerâŚâ your voice is calm, âis it true?â
âwhat?â he breathes, his face blotchy and chest heaving.
âwhat you said in that note. is it true?â you repeat.
âof course itâs true!â he exclaims, like he canât believe youâd even ask.
âthank god,â you murmur, narrowing the gap between you two to pull him into the guest room, âi love you too,â you whisper against his lips, shutting the door behind him.
he nearly whines as he chases your lips, eagerly smashing them together. his large palms overtake your cheeks as the wet clicks of desperate kisses fill the room.
âyouâre so beautiful,â he groans into your neck, kissing his way down, âis this okay?â he asks, hands fiddling with the hem of your dress.
âplease,â you whimper and spencer wastes no time, pulling your mini dress above your head in one fell swoop.
âholy shit,â he whispers, hands reaching to cup your breasts hidden under your lacy black bra.
âdo you want to see them?â you ask sweetly, batting your eyes in a way that has him palming his pants.
âyeah baby, i do, come here,â he pulls you to him and walks you over to the bed. he sits and pulls you in between his long legs, his hard cock pulsing against his tight pants.
your mouth waters at the sight, and he pulls you into a sweet hug. he dotes on you with his lips while he makes quick work of unhooking your bra. his eyes darken as your tits jiggle deliciously, falling out of your bra. you shake your shoulders in order to give them some extra bounce for spencer.
âgod,â he groans, fingers coming up to twist and toy with your nipple, âputting on a show just for me, huh? god iâm lucky,â he smiles his crooked smile as he reaches his other hand for your unoccupied breast. heâs tugging and pinching at your nipples, taking breaks every so often to rub at the softness of your tits. it has you whining, you arch your back, sticking your tits out for him.
âjust for you, spencer,â your blubbery tone breaks him, hands pulling away from your body in order to undo his pants.
âcanât help it anymore,â he responds to your whine at the loss of his touch, âneed to get my cock out. that okay? you wanna see this cock baby?â
âgod please!â you nearly wail, thankful for the loud party bustling downstairs.
a silence blankets the two of you for a moment as his cock hits his now bare chest. you bite your lip at the way his precum smears deliciously over his happy trail.
âoh spencerâŚâ you trail off, reaching to play with it gently, your fingers barely grazing over the head.
âyeah baby?â he shudders at your touch, âyou like what you see?â
âlove it. love it so much. love you,â you drop to your knees in between his legs, shooting him puppy dog eyes.
he throws his head back as you grip his shaft firmly and kitten lick his tip, grazing light kisses over the head. âmmph!â you sigh, mainly to yourself as you start moving your hand up and down his long cock, âyou taste so fucking good. love having this cock in my mouth,â the words fall out of your mouth, you couldnât have stopped them if you wanted to. your mouth continues to tease over his head, taking him deeper at certain points just to pull completely off of him the next.
âthat feels like fucking magic baby,â spencer croons, his fingers sifting through your hair. âsuch a tease,â his hips shift as you pull off him once more, this time with an exaggerated pop.
you sit up on your knees to give him a sloppy kiss, ensuring he gets a taste of your new favorite treat. you stand and let your panties pool around your ankles before stepping out of them, spencerâs eyes following you like a hawk. you take it upon yourself to switch positions, getting onto all fours on the bed, ass wiggling up at him.
âgod,â he smacks your ass lightly, âand i love you. love this ass, baby.â
a gasp involuntarily escapes your mouth at his dirty words, and you know he can see the way your hole just clenched. you hear him chuckle from behind you as his fingers teased your entrance, dragging your slick up to your clit and rubbing. he focuses mostly there, but he allows his fingers to dip in and out of your hole, stretching you for his large cock.
your back arches, whimpers falling out of your mouth the more he teases your sensitive button. you wiggle your ass in the air at the all consuming, downright dirty feeling of a man you love so much touching your most intimate parts.
âdoes that feel good?â he asks in a singsongy voice, hand slapping your asscheek, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way it recoils, âhavenât even fucked you yet and i got you shaking your ass for me, baby. such a dirty girl, iâm so fucking lucky.â
you whine into your pillow at his degrading praise, your legs beginning to shake. spencer pulls his fingers from your pussy and you cry out at the sudden loss of contact. your boneless as he flips you onto your back, legs automatically spreading.
âgood girl,â he coos, smirking. âgonna put it in now, âkay?â
you nod pathetically and he pushes the head into your tight pussy, shuddered breaths escaping the both of you. a whiny moan leaves spencerâs lips the further in he pushes, youâre clenching around him as he moves and you feel invincible.
he lifts your legs up to your chest, nearly folding you in half, âyour legs spread so wide for cock, donât they?â he degrades as he bottoms out.
âspencer!â you wail, âso fucking deep, oh my god!â you cry out as he starts to move. âi love the way your balls sound slapping against me, baby,â you whisper, your lips grazing the shell of his ear.
you feel him shudder in your arms and you rake your long nails up his back in order to maintain some of the power.
âyeah? my dirty girl likes my balls, huh? maybe we can put them inside your mouth next time,â he says into your lips. just like that, any power you had turns to dust as you melt in his arms, mewling, âthatâs it, take it baby, gonna give it to you whenever you want,â he presses his lips to your temple.
âi-iâm gonna cum, spencer,â you whimper, glossy eyes boring deep into his. âcan i please make a mess of your cock?â
âdo it,â he maintains his pace, picking up the intensity only a little, âcum on this dick baby, and then i can give you some of my own.â
the thought of his cum dripping from your pussy was enough to have you seeing stars, a burning sensation taking over your entire body, numbing you. you hear spencer groan and feel him shoot his load inside of you. he falls into your neck, both of you breathing heavily.
âiâm going to kill penelope for putting that note in your sweater,â he mumbles into your shoulder, making you burst out in laughter.
Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, misunderstandings, minor Foggy/OFC
Word Count: ~3200
A/N: We're almost to the end! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and commented on my little self-indulgent Chef AU -- y'all keep me writing!
As always, thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the line break -- it's being put to good use!
"Wait, Matt actually accused you of screwing him over and using him just to make a name for yourself?" Skyler asked as you sat in your kitchen together after work later that evening. "I don't remember anything in your article worth him getting upset over when I read it yesterday."
You shook your head. "That's because there wasn't anything! I absolutely raved about both his culinary skills and his food, I talked about how much care and consideration he puts into perfecting his recipes, and I even mentioned his volunteer activities at Clinton Church."
Skyler shook her head. "Walk me through the conversation again."
"I emailed him my article then decided to call him a little later to let him know that I had sent it over. He seemed a bit put off but I wasn't sure if he was still upset with me over running out on him the other night or if something else was bothering him, so I asked him if he had read it. Suddenly he just went off on me, saying how all journalists were exactly alike and how we're always looking for the next big scoop no matter who we screw over in the process, then he said that he thought I actually cared about him and that I was no longer welcome at Daredevil."Â
Your voice broke, the hurt and anger in Matt's voice upsetting you all over again. "The worst part of it is that I do care about him, Sky, I -- I think I might have been falling for him."
Skyler reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."
You shook your head with a sniffle. "I hate to admit it, but maybe Kelsie was right and Matt was just stringing me along but got tired of waiting until my article was actually published to stop speaking to me, so he just made an excuse."
Skyler made a face. "Ugh. First off, don't ever use the phrase 'Kelsie was right' in my presence ever again. Secondly, didn't you say that he opened up to you about some personal stuff but asked you to keep it off the record?"
You nodded. "Yeah, and I did. I didn't mention anything to do with that in the article."
You pulled up your work email on your phone, opening the attachment you had sent Matt so you could read over it once again. "I didn't even -- wait, what is this?"
You scrolled through the document, your blood turning to ice in your veins. "Oh shit. Oh no, no , no, no, no, no. "
A look of alarm crossed Skyler's face. "What's wrong?"
"This isn't my article."
"What? What do you mean, that isn't your article?"
I mean , the article I sent Matt is not the article I wrote, Sky." You handed your phone to Skyler. "It's got my name on the byline, but I didn't write this. It's no wonder Matt was so pissed at me though -- this article is a smear campaign."
Skyler's eyebrows raised as she read through it. "Someone had to have switched the documents. Did you leave your computer unlocked and unattended at any point today?"
You shook your head. "No, of course not, I--"
You sighed. "Wait, yes. I was getting ready to send my article to Matt when Kelsie told me I had a package downstairs that I had to go personally sign for."
Skyler raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, there was no package."
You nodded. "Exactly."
Skyler tapped at your phone screen. "Um, did you also send it to Max and Carrie and tell them Ellison approved your article and said to go ahead and send it to them?"
You shook your head. "No, why?"
"Because it looks like you did."
"What?" You grabbed your phone, scowling as you saw that the same attachment had been sent to the people who handled the layout for the physical paper as well as the digital edition. "Oh, but hell no. It's a good thing you caught that."
Skyler shook her head in disbelief. "That absolute bitch. I'm going to destroy her."
You sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to prove Kelsie is the one who wrote it and planted it on my PC though."
Skyler grinned. "Oh, I do. You didn't know that you can see who the original author of a document is and look at a document's editing history, did you?"
You shook your head.
"I bet Kelsie didn't either. I need your laptop."
You retrieved your laptop and pulled the document up on it before letting Skyler take over.Â
After a few clicks, Skyler nodded. "Sure enough. Not only is she listed as the original author of the document, but her digital signature is all over it."
You shook your head. "We need to go talk to Ellison."
You sent him a text message. Are you still at the office? I need to talk to you about something important.
A few seconds later, he replied. Yeah, still here trying to get this editorial column done. What's up?
I'll be there in 10 minutes. Don't go anywhere.
You saved the file to a flash drive, grabbed your keys, then you and Skyler practically ran to the Bulletin.
As soon as you got there, you booted up your computer and printed a copy of Kelsie's fake article. "Okay, let's go talk to Ellison."
You picked up the printout of Kelsie's fake article from the printer before you and Skyler headed to Ellison's office.
He looked up at the two of you tiredly. "Whatcha got for me?"
"Sabotage," Skyler replied. "As well as sneaky, underhanded, unethical so-called journalism."
Ellison's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"I have reason to believe that Kelsie swapped my Restaurant Week article out with a fake one in an attempt to discredit me," you explained.Â
You set the copy of the fake article down on Ellison's desk. "I wound up sending this to Chef Murdock, who was understandably upset by it and is how I caught it. And not only that, but Kelsie sent it to Max and Carrie while I was away from my computer."
Ellison's eyebrows raised as he read the fake article. "What makes you so sure it was Kelsie?"
Skyler scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? She's an evil, backstabbing bitch."
You shook your head. "Kelsie's had a personal vendetta against me ever since I got promoted to Features and has been going around all week accusing me of 'stealing' the Restaurant Week feature out from underneath her."
"And she's been saying all sorts of horrible things about Chef Murdock," Skyler added before pointedly looking at you. "Things that probably aren't even true."
Ellison sighed. "I knew she wasn't very happy with me for passing the Restaurant Week feature to you, but I wouldn't have suspected that she'd actually resort to sabotage."
He set the article down. "However, you both know that simply providing me with a copy of an allegedly-written article isn't enough. I need solid proof."
Skyler set the flash drive down on Ellison's desk. "Here's your proof. You'll notice that Kelsie is the original owner of the document and has edited it multiple times, and I bet if you look on her computer you'd find it there as well."Â
"Plus if you review the security footage from around 1:30 today you'll probably see her poking around at my desk." You set copies of the time-stamped emails sent to Max and Carrie. "She sent me on a wild goose chase trying to find some package I needed to personally sign for while she sent the fake article to Max and Carrie for publication."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she was behind the email server conveniently going down on Wednesday afternoon so you couldn't email your article to Mitch then," Skyler added. "It's a good thing you decided to print it and turn it in anyway."
Ellison sighed. "Do you still have your original file?"
You nodded. "She deleted it off of my computer here at work but I keep a copy of all of my articles on an external hard drive at home."
"Good. As soon as you get home, resend it to Max and Carrie marked urgent and CC me so I'll also have it digitally. In the meantime, I'll get Phil to pull the security footage from today."
"Okay." You bit your lip. "Um, is it okay if I take Monday off? After the week I've had I need a mental health day."
Ellison looked at you sympathetically and nodded. "Yeah, sure. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for all this."
You shrugged. "Not your fault. What I don't get though is why Kelsie also chose to go after Chef Murdock so hard."
"I think I can answer that," Skyler said, handing you her phone. "Take a look at Kelsie's Facebook."
You looked at her latest post, which was a picture of her cozying up to a handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed man. Romantic weekend away with my love, the photo was captioned. "So?"
Skyler shook her head and pulled up Kelsie's boyfriend's profile. "See who she's dating?"
Your eyebrows raised as you read his bio. "Huh, yeah, I guess that makes sense now."Â
Skyler showed it to Ellison. "Did you know this?"
Ellison shook his head. "No, I had no idea. It does explain why she was pushing so hard about getting the feature switched back though."
You nodded. "That way she could control the narrative."
Ellison sighed. "Let me go ahead and call Phil. Don't forget to CC me on that correction to Max and Carrie so it's documented."
You nodded. "Okay."
"I'll send out a staff-wide memo on Monday after everything is said and done, but in the meantime, don't say anything to anyone else on staff about this. I don't want it getting back to Kelsie so she can try to cover her tracks."
You and Skyler both nodded. "Yes, sir."
As you left the office and were headed back down the elevator, Skyler asked, "So what are you going to do about Matt? Still want me to kick his ass for you?"
You let out a light laugh. "No, that's okay. I'll just⌠move on, I guess? I mean, I'm going to send my actual article to him but he made it pretty clear that he didn't want anything else to do with me so I doubt he'll even open my email."
"Then it's his loss."
You stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened. "Thanks, Sky."
Skyler bit her lip. "What about Foggy? You think I should cancel my date with him tomorrow?"
You shook your head. "No way. Just because it didn't work out with me and Matt doesn't mean you shouldn't at least give Foggy a chance."
You gave her a wink. "Besides, just because I'm not welcome at Daredevil doesn't mean that you can't bring me some takeout from there, especially if you're dating the other owner."
Skyler laughed and gave you a hug. "Thanks, bestie."
"Let me know how it goes, ok?"
Skyler nodded. "I will."
You headed home and grabbed your laptop so you could send the correct article to Max and Carrie, CCing Ellison on the email with the explanation "Sorry, wrong attachment sent. Please use this attached copy in the print and online editions on Monday." .
You opened a new email and attached the correct file.
You probably won't even open this email, but I wanted to let you know that the article I sent you earlier today was not the article I had written about you, nor is it the article that will be appearing in Monday's edition of the Bulletin. Long story short, someone else on staff replaced the file for my article (which I had given a hardcopy of to my editor for approval on Wednesday) with the one I erroneously sent you earlier today.
I promise I never meant to hurt you and I swear I would never use you (or anyone else, for that matter) just to get a lead on a story or try to pad my portfolio. This past week was one of the best of my life and it was genuinely a pleasure spending time with you and getting to know you⌠both inside the kitchen and out.Â
You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should tell Matt exactly how much he had begun to mean to you. Ultimately you decided against it, instead closing with ' Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors'.
You added your work signature, then sent the email.Â
You sat back and sighed. While it hurt knowing that you would never get to find out if the spark you had felt with Matt could've ignited into something real, you also knew that you would treasure the time you had spent with him forever.
"Matt, there's a gentleman on the phone asking for you," Karen said as Matt and Foggy prepped for brunch service on Sunday. "Says he's from the Bulletin."
Matt nodded and wiped his hands. He had called the editor on Friday evening and had left a voicemail disputing the information contained in your article and asking for a resolution. "I'll take it in the office. Thanks, Karen."
He could feel both her and Foggy watching him as he exited the kitchen and headed to the office.
He picked up the phone and transferred the call. "Matthew Murdock speaking."
"Chef Murdock," the man replied. "This is Mitchell Ellison. I'm the editor over at the New York Bulletin. "
Matt was hit with a pang. You had emailed him again on Friday afternoon but with his hurt over your article being so fresh and so raw Matt had been letting your email sit unopened in his inbox until he was ready to hear what kind of (undoubtedly poor) excuse you'd had for using him.Â
He cleared his throat. "Mmhmm."
"I just wanted to call and personally apologize for the feature article you received in your email on Friday. That was not the article I had approved for publication and I wanted to let you know that after a brief internal investigation, the person responsible for it is being terminated first thing tomorrow morning. I assure you, we do not stand for such unethical behavior at the Bulletin ."
Matt winced. While he was extremely hurt and angry with you, he hadn't actually set out to get you fired. "Thank you for letting me know."
"I'm sending over the feature that I actually had approved for tomorrow's edition of the paper and I must say, it's some of the best, most honest writing I've ever read. I think you'll be much more pleased with it."
Matt heard his inbox chime with a new email. "I think it just came in."
"Great. Apologies again for the mistake."
"Mmhmm. Thanks for returning my call."
"Of course. Have a good day, Chef."
"You too. Goodbye."
Matt hung up and sighed, then popped in his earbuds and pulled up Ellison's email.
Attached is the article that has been approved for this year's New York Restaurant Week feature. If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to reach out.
Mitchell Ellison
Editor-in-Chief, New York Bulletin
Matt opened the attachment and tapped the keyboard command to begin his text-to-speech program, surprised to hear your name on the byline. He would have thought that whoever had been reassigned the article would get credited, especially since the editor-in-chief had said that your employment at the Bulletin was to be terminated.
Either way, Mr. Ellison had been right -- the rewritten article was immensely more positive than the previous one had been and actually included information that Matt had revealed to you during your recorded interviews⌠as well as information that hadn't been recorded and therefore only you would be able to include.
Matt's brow furrowed. Something's not adding up.
He closed out of the article, then navigated to your email.
He took a deep breath and opened it.
"Dear Matt,"Â his text-to-speech program dictated,
"You probably won't even open this email, but I wanted to let you know that the article I sent you earlier today was not the article I had written about you, nor is it the article that will be appearing in Monday's edition of the Bulletin. Long story short, someone else on staff replaced the file for my article (which I had given a hardcopy of to my editor for approval on Wednesday) with the one I erroneously sent you earlier today. "
Matt tapped the spacebar on his keyboard to pause his program, filled with an odd mix of confusion and relief. So if you hadn't actually written the first article you had sent him⌠who had and why?
He tapped the spacebar again to continue.
"I promise I never meant to hurt you," your email continued, "and I swear I would never use you (or anyone else, for that matter) just to get a lead on a story or try to pad my portfolio. This past week was one of the best of my life and it was genuinely a pleasure spending time with you and getting to know you⌠both inside the kitchen and out.Â
Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors, sincerely yoursâŚ"
Matt navigated to the attachment, sucking in a breath as he realized that the article that the Bulletin 's editor-in-chief had sent him a few minutes before had been your article -- your real article, apparently.
Matt groaned and covered his face with his hands. He had been so caught up in his worry about getting hurt again that he had never even considered the possibility that you hadn't written the other article.
"Everything okay?"
Matt shook his head as Foggy entered the office. "I messed up."
"What do you mean?"
Matt sighed and said your name. "I was wrong about her, Fog, I was completely wrong. She didn't write that article."
"She didn't? How did she wind up sending it to you then?"
"Apparently one of her coworkers had replaced the file for her real article with the one she sent me -- I'm assuming as some form of sabotage or something. The editor at the Bulletin told me that the person responsible is being terminated first thing tomorrow morning."
"So did you get to read the real article?"
Matt nodded. "Yeah, it's right here."
Foggy moved to his side and leaned over his shoulder so he could read it.
After a few minutes, he straightened. "Damn, Matt, that was beautiful."
Matt nodded. "I know."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Apologize profusely and hope like hell that she'll forgive me."
Matt sighed. If you didn't forgive him, at least he had the memories he had made with you over the past week.
But if you did ⌠Well, he wouldn't screw up a third time.
Summary / Request : You and Kylo Ren are dating and live on Starkiller base. Youâre friends with everyone on the base (even Hux and Phasma) so when Kylo goes on a solo mission, you decide to throw a party for everyone! When Kylo returns he tries to shut the party down, but something else happens instead.
Thank you @thefandomnetworkingchannel-32 for requesting this! I decided not to add in the song you requested, sorry! I hope you enjoy!
Warnings : Um, none!
Notes: Itâs a party yâall! Ayyyy!
âIâll see you tomorrow, hun.â You said, standing up on your tippy toes to kiss your boyfriendâs, Kylo Ren, cheek. He gave you a sweet smile then put his helmet on, leaving the quarters you and him shared.Â
Kylo Ren was going on a mission by himself and wouldnât be returning until late tomorrow. Once the door slid shut, you flopped onto your large, black bed. You didnât have a job on Starkiller. Well, you do help out with small tasks like overseeing training, cargo shipments, things like that. But nothing official.Â
You rolled onto your side and pulled out your data pad, checking the time. It was a little after lights out so you decided to call up one of your friends, Captain Phasma. You tapped a few buttons and eventually, she picked up.
âHey Phasma.â You said, smiled. The captain said âhelloâ and hung up her cape. âI have this idea.â
âNon of your ideas are safe or good, but what is it?â Phasma replied. You rolled your eyes at your friendâs comment.
âSince Commander Ren is on a mission until late tomorrow, we should throw a party. Give everyone a day off and we all just have fun.â You said, watching Phasma for her reaction. Phasma thought for a moment then shrugged.
âSounds like fun, just run it by Armitage and it should be fine. Iâll help you set it up tomorrow after I drill the troopers.â Phasma commented, taking off her gloves. You smiled and the two of you said your goodbyes, hanging up.
The next day, you talked to General Hux about the party and after a few minutes of debating, he finally said âokayâ. You and Phasma quickly alerted everyone about the party and started to clear out the cafeteria in order to decorate it.
After a hour of decorating, the two of you were done and satisfied with your work. And you finished right on time, people having walking in minutes after. You had made some nice treats and poured drinks into grey cups, setting them on a decorated table. Everyone gravitated to the food and drinks, then broke off into little groups to socialize.Â
Hux even joined the party. You saw him eat one of your blue milk cookies then take 2 more after the first one. Phasma helped set up a speaker to play some sort of music so people could dance if they wanted to.Â
You, Phasma, and General Hux were standing together in the corner, watching people talk and dance. âThis was a good idea, but we have to have to watch the time. If Commander comes back to see this, Iâm blaming you.â Hux commented, eating what seemed to be his third cookie.
You nodded, sipping your drink. âIâm sure he wouldnât be too mad at me. If it was you on the other hand, youâd be shipped off into space.â You joked, nudging the general. Phasma dryly laughed while Hux just rolled his eyes. You three had about a hour or so until you had to get everyone back to work and clean up before Kylo came back.Â
Or so you thought.
You felt your data pad vibrate in your back pocket so you grabbed it and checked it. It was a message from Kylo.
âJust landed. Where is everyone?â
âOh no.â You said, staring at your data pad. Phasma and Hux leaned over your shoulder and saw the message. You three talked quickly about what to do and decided you didnât have enough time to clean everything and get everyone back to their stations.Â
Kylo Ren walked the empty hallways of Starkiller base, confused why no one was at their station. He turned the corner that lead to the common areas and heard music coming from the cafeteria. He made his way over and saw people dancing. No one seemed to notice their commander walk in and search the room.
You, Phasma and Hux all saw him enter and panicked. Phasma casually walked away, hiding her panic with her chrome armor. Hux sped walked over to the snack table, trying to not look suspicious. Which left you, standing there like an idiot as your boyfriend make his way over to you.
âWelcome back, babe.â You said once he stood in front of you, laughing nervously. He looked around and saw Phasma and Hux, then looked back at you.Â
âWas this your idea?â He asked, his mask staring at you.Â
âYes. B-but Captain Phasma and General Hux helped!â You said quickly, playing with them hem of your shirt. Kylo sighed and took your hand in his, walking over to Hux.Â
âGeneral, get everyone back to their stations and order someone to clean this cafeteria up.â Kylo ordered, still holding your hand. Hux nodded and walked over to Phasma.
Kylo walked with you out of the cafeteria and down the hall that led to your quarters. Once he knew no one would see him, he stopped and took off his helmet.Â
âKylo, Iâm sorry. I thought it would be fun to give everyone a break and-â Kylo cut you off by kissing your cheek, causing you to get all flustered.Â
âWe need to get you a job.â Kylo said, taking your hand in his again. You hummed a âyesâ and smiled at him. It was silent for most of the walk back to your shared quarters.
âTo be honest, it was a really fun party.â You said, breaking the silence. Kylo laughed and kissed your head.Â
summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you â or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!
a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!
If it werenât for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you wouldâve moved out of your building by now.
Your neighbors donât like you. Youâre certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think youâre out of earshot.
It had started, you suspect, because of your age. Youâre a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.
The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the cityâs most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.
You shouldnât care. And you hadnât, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you canât even enter the building without judgment.
Youâre not a bad neighbor. Youâre not. Youâd learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.
You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that itâs the farthest away from the building.
Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like youâre less, like youâre a greedy little thing who has taken something she isnât worthy of.
Itâs the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.
They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. Heâs handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And youâre you.
Joel thinks youâre being paranoid at first, says they couldnât possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesnât take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment â never set in his direction, only ever yours.
One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. Youâre close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers.Â
He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries youâll draw blood.
âI hate them,â you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. Youâre wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he wonât let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.
âWanna tell me what happened, darlin?â he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.
âItâs stupid.â Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. âI was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,â you sniff. âThe woman who lives right next door â the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.â
âMhm,â Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. âDid they say somethinâ to you?â
You huff. âNo, not to me. They didnât see me there.â
Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.
Donât know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her.
Youâre tellinâ me. What a shame. Such a young thing â she canât possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!
âThey said Iâm not good for you,â you weep. âThat Iâm too young. That I â I c-canât be what you need.â
âDarlin,â Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.
âYou know I love you, right?âÂ
You sniff again. Nod.Â
âI donât give a shit if people think youâre too young for me,â he huffs. âYouâre a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.â
âYeah?â you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldnât stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if youâve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself.Â
Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that youâre laying against him. âYeah,â he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. âThose ladies can get their asses in line.âÂ
You laugh, then â a real, genuine laugh â the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.
Youâre so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that heâs yours.
You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joelâs thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath.Â
âDoes it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?â
He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face.Â
âMaybe a little,â he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. âDoes it stroke your ego, beinâ the only one who gets to fuck me?âÂ
And in truth, it does. Youâre the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.
Youâve learned him intimately, every inch of him. Ruined him for any other woman.
So in a fucked up kind of way â it does.
âYeah,â you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.
âThese all mine?â You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.
âMhm,â he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch.Â
Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.
âThis too,â he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.
Heâs half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim.Â
Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. âThis is all yours too,â he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull.Â
âAll of it â all of me. Donât gotta worry your pretty little head with anythinâ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?â
His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.
Yours, yours, yours.Â
And nobody elseâs.
âYeah,â you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you.Â
âGot it.â
Itâs two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox.Â
âYou must work with your hands,â she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all.Â
âUh-â
âIâm Sheila,â she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. âAnd you are?â
âJoel,â he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesnât miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense.Â
But sheâs insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.
You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joelâs, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.
âHi neighbor!â she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. âI was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.â Sheâs not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joelâs biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him.Â
Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.
âNot her friend,â Joel corrects before you can. ââM her boyfriend.â
âOh,â she says. âBoyfriend.â Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like itâs some fanciful thing. âYouâre too old to be someoneâs boyfriend.âÂ
Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. âMan-friend, then.âÂ
You laugh, not because itâs funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward.Â
Sheila pays you no attention.
âWell,â she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joelâs chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, âJoel, if youâre ever lookinâ for a good meal, Iâm just next door.â She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. âKnow a big man like you has gotta eat.â
Your vision blurs scarlet.Â
Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides.Â
âThanks, but no thanks,â he gruffs. âAnyway, nice to meet ya maâam-â
âSheila,â she reminds him.Â
âSheila,â he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. âWe should probably get goinâ, right sweetheart?â
Youâre still fuming, barely able to register Joelâs voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.
And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You donât dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head.Â
Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least sheâs out of your sight.
âPlease just move in with me,â Joel begs when youâre finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this womanâs apartment on fire.
Youâve talked about living together a few times. Itâs just â youâve never considered it so seriously until right now.Â
âI canât let them win,â you mutter, agitated.Â
You hate how theyâve made you feel, like youâre some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush.Â
With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joelâs devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that heâs yours.Â
Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you donât have anything nice to say, donât say anything at all.Â
And then you have a thought â a devious thought â maybe you donât have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.
Your mouth is on Joel the second youâre back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.
Heâs not expecting it â why would he be? Youâve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. Heâd practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears.Â
So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.
âWhoa, darlinâ,â he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. âWhat are you-â
âJoel.â Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. âDo you trust me?âÂ
Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you â more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when youâve been made to feel so small these past few minutes.Â
Still, his cock doesnât get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle.Â
You give him no choice with the way youâre touching him, the way youâre looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. Heâll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?
âYeah baby, of course,â he breathes. âWhat do you need?â
You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. âNeed you to be loud,â you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. âLet them know who makes you feel good.âÂ
He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. âFuck, okay.â
His belt falls to the floor with a clang.
He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.
Itâs already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. Heâs so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.
âAlways so eager to please me, arenât you, pretty girl?â Joelâs voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.
âLouder,â you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.
âFuck,â he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. âDirty fucking girl.âÂ
His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy.Â
âMmm,â you hum approvingly.
âYeah? You want me to tell âem? Tell âem youâre making my cock drool for you? That nobody â shit-â You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. â-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?âÂ
Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joelâs cock. Itâs followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door â all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly itâs coming from.Â
Sheila is home.Â
Perfect.
Itâs probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe theyâve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you canât help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing.Â
You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joelâs cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea.Â
âGo ahead,â you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip.Â
Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used.Â
âYou sure?âÂ
Itâs not that he doesnât think you can handle it. He knows you can. Youâve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are â just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise.Â
But still, he canât help but worry that heâll hurt you.Â
You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.
You donât pull away, donât show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length.Â
Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx.Â
The sounds heâs pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then thereâs him, moaning wildly, not sure if heâd be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and heâs going to â fuck, heâs going to cum if you donât stop.Â
He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. Youâre panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him.Â
âChrist,â he says. âFuckinâ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.âÂ
âYeah?â
âYeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,â he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat.Â
He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he canât help it.Â
âSo fuckinâ beautiful, you know that?âÂ
You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.
The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. Youâve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.
You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. âPlease,â you breathe against his lips. âIâll make you feel so good, I promise.â
âKnow you will,â he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.
His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. Itâs always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in.Â
âYou okay?â he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.
âYes, fuck â yes,â you whine. âNeed you to fuck me, Joel.â
âIâm goinâ to baby, donât worry,â 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. âPussyâs so goddamn tight, âts suckinâ me right in.â
It feels like hours pass with Joelâs cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. Youâre whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.
When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. âF-uucckk,â you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.
The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot.Â
âOh, shit,â you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep.Â
âNot going to last if you keep doinâ that,â he warns. âCunt is too fuckinâ good. Best Iâve ever â uuuhh â had.â
Heâs not just saying it for show. Itâs true. You know it is, too. Heâs told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, heâd said once.
âItâs â fuck, itâs fine Joel,â you mutter. âIâm close too, just keep going, right there.â
A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile.Â
Do you hear that?Â
Yeah; what is that noise?
Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you.Â
âThink they caught us, darlinâ,â he says. âCaught you takinâ my cock like youâre fuckinâ made to.â
Oh my word!
Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that youâve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp.Â
The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joelâs cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast.Â
If these people donât leave, theyâre going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.
âJoel, fuck-â
âYou gonna cum?â he goads. âYeah, can feel you squeezinâ me â youâre gonna cum, arenât ya?â
This is vulgar!Â
We should file a noise complaint. Câmon.
His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, youâre gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted.Â
Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt.Â
He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle.Â
A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.
Keep it down next time! I donât need to hear that!
And then youâre laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth.Â
âThink theyâre really gonna make a noise complaint?â Joel asks when you finally come up for air.Â
âI dunno,â you smile. âDoes your offer still stand â for me to move in with you?âÂ
âAlways,â he vows, forehead resting against yours.
end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3
10/10 wouldn't put it past steve to spike her drink with something that'll make her horny af or make her use wear some bikini that'll make her pussy and tiddies and....well, we all know what happens next. and i would 10/10 gladly accept my fate if he resorts to that plan đ
oh my GOD. Lord help me why is this so hot.
(doesnât really fit into the koala!steve universe so instead iâm just writing it as a dark!steve one shot)
WARNING: dark!steve, innocent!reader, dub!con, manipulation, toxicity, steve drugs reader (side effects similar to sex pollen), age gap, smut
đ
It was meant to be a boysâ holiday. It was meant to be an opportunity for Steve to relax, and not have to watch his friends fawn over their wives and long-term girlfriends as always.
But Steve Rogers had gotten used to being disappointed.
When Bucky first told him, sheepishly with flushed cheeks, that he, Sam and Thor would all be inviting their partners on vacation, Steve almost socked him straight in the jaw.
âI know this was supposed to be a guys thing,â Bucky said apologetically. âBut you know how convincing the girls can be.â
Steve almost pulled out. He almost refused to go, just to be spiteful. Buckyâs girlfriend was bringing her younger sister, for Christâs sake. This was turning into a big family holiday, when all Steve wanted was to get drunk on the beach and fuck hookers.
When he saw you at the airport, he did a double take. Who the fuck looks that good for a plane ride? He was almost about to approach you, try and use some of that Rogers charm to get your number, when he saw you walking over to him. Nice. He guessed he must have looked pretty good, too.
âHey, Y/N!â Bucky suddenly called out from besides Steve before pulling you in for a tight hug.
Steve was confused. What were the chances that Bucky knew a stranger at an airport?
âY/N, this is Steve,â Bucky introduced, before patting Steveâs shoulder. âSteve, this is Y/N; Giaâs sister.â
He almost choked. You were Giaâs sister? The same annoying, overbearing Gia that had her claws deep in Buckyâs shoulders for the past three years?
âHi,â You greeted, holding out your hand for him to shake. âGiaâs told me so much about you. Your career is inspiring!â
Steve took your hand and placed a kiss to the back of it, making you blush. âHi there. I have to say, Gia failed to tell me how beautiful you are.â
You immediately look down, before your eyes widen. âShit! Speaking of Gia; she told me to meet her at Subway. Iâll be right back!â
With that, you sprinted off, leaving the two men alone.
Bucky was giving Steve narrow eyes, causing Steve to chuckle. âWhat you giving me that look for?â
âYou need to relax,â Bucky said sternly. âY/Nâs in college. Sheâs just a kid. And if you try anything with her-â
âWoah, Buck,â Steve cut him off. âWhat are you accusing me of here?â
âNothing,â Bucky replied, before coldly adding, âYet. If you so much as even think about flirting with her-â
âCome on, now-â
âLet alone touch her, I will end you,â Bucky finished with a clenched jaw. âGia knows what youâre like. She made me promise to keep a leash on you. Touch Y/N, and Gia will kill us both.â
âBucky, listen to me,â Steve ordered, meeting his best friendâs eyes. âIâm not interested in Y/N, alright? I promise. I was just being polite. She seems like a sweet kid.â
Steve was bad at following rules. Steve was even worse at keeping promises.
How could he, when you were parading around the private beach in nothing but a skimpy swimsuit?
âYou alright there, Lips?â Steve asked, staring at you. He was so grateful to whoever invented sunglasses; they allowed him to keep his eyes lustfully drinking you in even when Bucky and Gia were around.
You giggled at his nickname before twirling around to face him. âJust staring out at the water, Mr. Rogers.â
He never once told you that you could call him Steve, because he loved the way âMr. Rogersâ sounded coming from your pretty mouth. The others had gone in for the resortâs buffet dinner, but you and Steve had filled up on street food earlier so you stayed out to watch the sunset.Â
âCan I sit here?â You questioned him shyly, walking over to the deck chair next to his.
âOf course, Lips,â He replied almost instantly, turning his head to face you. âYou know you donât have to ask.â
You sat down before giving him a small smile. âWhy do you call me âLipsâ?â
Steve hardly skipped a beat before answering. ââCos of that gorgeous red lipstick you love wearing every day.â
Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you shook your head and laughed it off. âCan I admit something, Mr. Rogers?â
This was it. This was the moment when youâd tell him you were just as horny for him as he was for you, and heâd fuck you right here on the sand and it would would be the naughtiest, filthiest secret youâd both ever keep.
âIâm something of a... fan of your work,â You said when he prompted you to continue. âI know I said Gia told me about you, but I actually already knew a lot about you - not in a weird way, more like in a admiring way. Like, you inspire me.â
âReally?â Steve asked with a wide smile. âIâm honored.â And incredibly intrigued by what you could possibly mean by âknow a lot about youâ.
âYour entire career is nothing short of electric,â You went on to say, excitement in your voice. âYouâre actually the reason I chose to major in Engineering.â
Steve pulled up his sunglasses, needing to get a proper look at you. With shock, he chuckled. âSeriously?â
âMhm,â You said. âAnd I canât believe I told you that. Sorry. You probably get admirers everywhere you go, and now youâre on vacation and youâre still being fawned over-â
âHey hey, donât be silly,â He cut you off gently. âUsually, when someone tells me they admire my work, itâs an old guy. I donât often get pretty little things like you interested in my job.â
You laughed, before looking back out to the blue ocean.
Scanning your body, Steve reached his hand out and rested it on your shoulder. âBe a good girl and go get me another beer.â
Subconsciously, your finger moved to your mouth and you bit down on it, causing him to smirk.
âYou like that?â He asked, stroking your arm. âBeing called a good girl?â
Your giggles told him that you do, but you shook your head as though you were shaking away the naughty thoughts.
âIn that case,â Steve began, mischief in his tone. âBe a good girl and do as I say.â
You got up, obediently getting a beer from the cooler. When you returned, he pulled the beer bottle a little too hard, causing you to land on his lap.
âIâm so sorry,â You stumbled, attempting to get up. He kept his grip tight on you, though, preventing you from standing.
Before you could have asked what he was doing, Steve pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. Shocked, you used all your strength to rip yourself out of his grip, your eyes wide.
âI-â
âDonât worry,â He assured you, standing up too.
âNo,â You said, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I have a boyfriend."
Steve was taken aback. Usually, when he came on to someone, they'd be in his bed within minutes. It didn't matter if they had been married to another man for 10 years; Steve Rogers got what he wanted.
"I can't say I'm surprised," He said lowly, the look on your face leaving him no choice but to accept defeat. "I apologize, Y/N."
He was not used to the feeling of embarrassment, and he didn't enjoy it.
Three days.
You had managed to avoid being alone with Steve for three entire days. The vacation was in its final throes, and Steve was miserable. He hadn't managed to sleep with anyone, much less you.
"What's got you down, brother?" A stranger asked him on the beach bar one late evening.
Steve sighed, staring over to where you were dancing around with the others.
"Woman troubles?" The stranger pushed, causing Steve to look over at him.
"Something like that," Steve answered cryptically.
The stranger had an odd look in his eyes. "I can help you out if the problem comes from down south."
"Excuse me?" Steve asked with a frown, wondering why this man was even talking to him.
"If you are having an issue with your lovemaking," The stranger began, "I have just the thing. A concoction to get your juices flowing. You'll be harder and hornier than ever before- your wife will be delighted."
Steve snorted. "That's the last thing I need right now." If he got any hornier, he likely would've imploded.
"Well then, for your friends?" The stranger went on. "Any of them having trouble getting hard, or staying hard?"
Giving him a blank look, Steve sighed. "Surprisingly, the typical topic of discussion with my friendship doesn't consist of whether or not we suffer from erectile dysfunction."
"Not just erectile dysfunction," The stranger persisted. "It's holistic. Your mind, your soul, your body; it makes it so that the only human need you want to fulfil is sexual satisfaction."
Steve's eyes landed on you, and your gorgeous body. An idea entered his head. "Does it work on women?"
The stranger scratched his head. "Um, a woman hasn't ever tried it."
"I'll take some," Steve stated, taking out his wallet. "Give me three doses."
"Woah now, one dose is more than enough for a man," The stranger said with wide eyes. "For a woman, I'd recommend less than half a dose. Especially the first time."
Taking out 500 Euros, Steve's eyes darkened as he stared down at the man. "Three."
The stranger gulped. 500 Euros was more than he was planning on making all month from this stupid sex drug, so he immediately took the money and handed Steve the potions. "Use them carefully, Sir. I can't predict what the outcome will be on a woman; especially in such high dosage."
Steve ignored his words and pocketed the pink vials, a cunning smirk growing on his lips as he watched you dancing.
Soon.
â˘
"I'm not sure what it is," You complained, rubbing your head. "I just don't feel so good."
Bucky was sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing your arm with a sorrowful look. "Might be food poisoning, kid."
"But I don't feel any stomach pain or nausea at all," You say confusedly. "I just... feel dizzy, and uncomfortable." And for some reason like you wanted Bucky to do more than just rub your arm.
"Maybe we should stay on the resort today," Gia suggested, touching up her hair in the mirror.
"No; you put so much time and effort into that itinerary," You argued. "You guys go ahead and stick to the schedule. They have a resident nurse here; I'll go visit them if I need to."
"I don't feel good about leaving you here alone," Gia pouted, before her eyes widened. "Hang on. I need to pee."
She rushed into the bathroom, while you sighed and looked over to Bucky. "You have to convince her to go. I'll be fine; I probably just drank too much last night."
Bucky moved closer, a concerned look on his face. "Are you sure you'll be alright here alone? What if you start feeling worse?"
His hand continued stroking your arm, and you felt tingles. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the intense desire to be touched even more by him. "I'll be fine," You mumbled, placing your hand on his upper thigh and giving him an innocent look. "I promise to call you if I need you."
Bucky held back a shudder when your hand squeezed down on his thigh. When he felt his cock harden, he removed your fingers from his leg and cleared his throat. Sure, he thought you were gorgeous, and felt the need to keep you protected- but he hadn't let his thoughts get any darker than that. Sometimes he couldn't control it, especially when you wore those mini skirts and that damn red lipstick you loved so much, but he could never act on it. You were his girlfriend's little sister, for crying out loud. He loved Gia.
Thankfully, Gia walked back in again, making you unnecessarily angry. You didn't know why her presence pissed you off so much suddenly, or why you were just now realizing how fucking hot and big and strong her boyfriend was, but you had to control yourself.
"That soap smells glorious," She commented, sniffing her hands.
Just then, Steve entered your room, making your eyes widen. You couldn't get the memory of Steven fucking Rogers, your absolute inspiration and role model, trying to kiss you. You felt bad for wanting it for a split second before remembering your boyfriend, and you knew you had to stay away from Steve before things got any more steamy.
Now, though, seeing him walk in your room almost made you moan out loud. He was shirtless and in grey joggers, the outline of his fat cock shamelessly pressed against the soft material. You wanted to eat it.
"Morning, guys," He greeted, running his hand through his hair. "Just wanted to let you know I'm not feeling so good today. Might just stay in my room, see if I feel any better." He didn't even look at you, because he knew how horny you must have been after those three doses he slipped into your drink the night before. He knew that keeping you starved of his attention would only make you crave him even more.
Gia's eyes lit up. "Yes! I mean, I'm sorry you're not feeling well, but neither is Y/N - you can both keep each other company today."
"Yeah, okay," Steve said casually, secretly pumped.
Bucky should've noticed the hungry look in his best friend's eyes. He should've pulled Steve to the side and warned him not to touch you. He should've made sure not to leave you alone with Steve, and prevented him from having full access to you.
But Bucky was distracted with recovering from the boner you gave him, desperately trying to take his mind off of your body so his dick would soften before Gia saw it.
"Good idea," You said, unable to hide your excitement as you got up onto your knees.
Steve couldn't keep his eyes off of you any longer. He scanned you up and down, taking in your skimpy tank top and tight shorts as you remained on your knees, a dumbstruck look on your face.
"Great," Gia chirped before linking her arm in Bucky's. "See you guys later! Keep us updated!"
You and Steve mumbled your responses while they left the room, the sound of the door shutting making you release your inhibitions.
"Shove your cock down my throat," You stated bluntly, unable to hide your desires. Nothing else mattered. You felt no shame, embarrassment, or even loyalty to your boyfriend anymore. All you felt was horny.
Steve wanted to do as you said. Fuck, he wanted so badly to fuck your face until your tears were mixing with his cum pouring out your mouth. But he knew he had to make this last. It was his only opportunity.
So he just laughed and shook his head. "Don't be silly, kiddo. Wanna watch a movie?"
You were utterly shocked. All week, he had been desperate for you and you knew it, and now that you were ready for him, he didn't want you anymore?
Once you were lying side by side on your bed, watching an animated film, you decided to try again. You trailed your fingers down his bare chest, making his abs flex.
âWhat are you doing?â He asked sternly, tightly grabbing your fingers.
âTouching you,â You whisper back, your eyes wide. Without warning, you get on top of him, straddling his waist. âLet me touch you, Mr. Rogers.â
He swallowed thickly. Not yet. âYou need to get off of me, kid-â
âStop calling me that!â You whined like a brat, moving your hips and making him gasp. âI wasnât a kid when you kissed me.â
âThat was a mistake,â He said, but you werenât having any of it.
You began bucking your hips hard and fast, rubbing your crotch over his growing boner. Your juices had soaked through your panties and were beginning to moisten your shorts, almost making him cum then and there.
With a deep breath, he grabbed your hips and pushed you back down onto the bed before climbing on top of you. âYou need to stop it right now, Y/N,â He scolded sternly, giving you a frown. âYouâre being very naughty.â
You sighed dreamily at his authoritative tone, his boner digging into your thigh. âThen punish me, daddy.â
Steve almost fainted. With no warning, you pulled off your tank top, revealing your breasts to him. He practically drooled, his eyes hooked to your hardened nipples. He made a mental note to find and thank the stranger at the bar.
âTaste them,â You coaxed him, a look of intense lust in your eyes.
Meeting your gaze, Steveâs face dropped. âNo.â
With that, he rolled off from on top of you and turned his attention back to the movie, making you scoff. âSeriously?â
He didnât respond, leaving you to lie there half-naked while staring at the tent in his pants. Deciding you needed to take it up a notch, you slipped your hand down your shorts and past your panties. Steve noticed immediately, but he didnât react.
âOh, yes,â You moaned, your head digging back into the pillow. âThat feels so fucking good.â
Steveâs mind went fuzzy. He couldnât even hear the movie anymore; all he could hear was the sound of your wetness as you rubbed your clit.Â
âDaddy,â You whined softly, still not feeling satisfied. It wasnât enough to masturbate. âPlease, help me.â
He let out a long sigh. You were gonna be the death of him.
âPlease, daddy,â You cried, pulling off your shorts and underwear before slipping your fingers back into your cunt. âI need your cock, Mr. Rogers.â
Steve turned onto his side, making your heart race as he looked down at you. Bringing up his hand, he stroked your cheek gently. âIf I help you, do you promise you wonât tell anyone?â
You nodded urgently, your eyes filling with tears because of how frustrated and needy you were. âI promise, Mr. Rogers.â
âYou wonât tell your sister?â He mumbled, an innocent look on his face. âYou wonât tell Bucky?â
You shook your head, âI wonât. I promise, Sir, I wonât tell anyone.â
Steve smiled, satisfied with your answer. He lowered his hand and replaced your fingers with his, playing with your pussy with more skill than anyone else you had ever been with. It was like he knew you better than you knew yourself; exploring your cunt and rubbing your clit like he had the blueprint of your body memorized.Â
âOh, yes,â You moaned, the fire you were feeling finally being soothed. âKeep going, Mr. Rogers.â
He bit his lip at the name, before slowly reaching into his pants and pulling out his swollen cock. Lifting up your leg that was closest to him, he turned you on your side so that your back was against his front. Your leg was pulled up so he could plunge his dick into you deeper, his chin resting on your shoulder.
You let out a cry of relief as he filled you up and stretched you out magnificently, leaving no room for want. This was perfect. This was what you had been craving without even knowing it.
Steve let out grunts as he started pummeling into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He kept one hand on your leg, keeping it stretched upwards, and the other around your neck, keeping your body close to him and squeezing the sides of your throat every so often.
âYour pussy belongs right here,â He whispered into your ear, his tone grave and merciless. âWrapped around my cock, milking it. Taking every fucking inch.â
You let out incoherent moans punctuated with sobs as he slammed his dick in and out of you, his hot breath on your neck.
âYou always knew youâd end this trip as my filthy little slut, didnât you?â He asked teasingly, a smirk on his lips. âMr. Rogersâ personal fuck bunny. Thatâs all you are now.â
Your mind went blank and you could only process pleasure, his dirty words driving you insane.
âDonât worry; when we go home, youâll still be my cockwhore,â He snarled. âIâll have to snatch you away in private. Steal you and hide you and keep you all to myself.â
A weak cry left your lips as he hit your g-spot, sending electric waves through your body.
âThatâs a good idea, isnât it?â He uttered, speeding up his thrusts. âTheyâd think you were kidnapped. That some sick monster killed you and buried the body. Theyâd never guess you were in my house, locked up safely for me.â
His words scared you. He wasnât being serious, was he?
âHidden away, just for me,â Steve continued. âMy little fuck bunny. Thatâs all youâll be good for. All youâll be used for.â
A whimper left your mouth. You felt yourself clench around his cock, but you also felt yourself grow terrified with his threat. Was it a threat? Or was this just intense dirty talk gone a little too far?
âIâll fuck you senseless,â He promised, thrusting harder into you. âFuck you until all you know is my name. Until all you live for is my cum.â He roughly turned your head so you were forced to look at him as his eyes darkened. âMy personal cumslut. Thatâs what you are.â
You felt your orgasm peak as your cunt tightened around him, making him groan.
âThatâs it; cum all over daddy,â Steve instructed you. âShow me what a good cockwhore you are.â
He began rubbing your clit, bringing your orgasm to the surface as you squirted all over him with a scream. Chuckling darkly, he continued fucking you, until his dick began twitching and throbbing and creaming, shooting his cum inside you.
âGood girl,â He groaned, his thrusts weakening and slowing down. âSuch a good fucking whore for me, arenât you?â
âY- yes,â You whispered feebly, stuck in a daze.Â
Steve pulled his cock out, moaning at the sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt. He used his dick to push it all back in, and kept himself nestled inside you like a plug.Â
Waiting until you had come back to reality, he smiled and stroked your hair. âFeel better?â
You nodded, meeting his eyes. âThank you, Mr. Rogers.â
He smiled warmly at you. âJust you wait until we get back home. Iâll give you a lot more to be thankful for.â
Your heart skipped a beat at his words and your eyes widened. âY- you mean-â
âI meant every word I said, baby,â He confirmed softly, striking fear in your mind with his words though his voice was gentle. âYouâre my little fuck bunny, now. Iâll keep you all to myself.â
Speechless, you parted your lips, still overwhelmed from your orgasm and confusion.
Steve grinned, happier than heâd ever been before. âDonât worry,â He began comfortingly, making you relax as you waited for him to say he was only kidding. But when he continued speaking, you felt as though your stomach was filled with lead. âIâll give you a chance to say goodbye to everyone.â
A barbecue at the Rogers' residence gets messy when you're introduced to Uncle Bucky.
Content Warning: Enemy's Dad!Steve Rogers x Reader, DILF!Bucky x Reader, age gap, smut (fingering, dirty talk, blowjob, face fucking, mean dom!steve, praise kink, a tiny bit of degredation kink), possessive!steve, fluff.
Part One | Part Two
"Okay. You are officially, absolutely deranged," Davina hisses as you drag her down the huge driveway. "You told me this was a fashion event!"
"That's the only way I could get you to come!" You retort, tightly gripping her wrist. "And I sure as fuck wasn't coming here alone."
The house in front of you is the biggest you've ever seen. There are multiple sports cars parked up, as well as a butler awaiting you with a grin.
"What the fuck?" Davina mumbles as the two of you approach him. "What kind of barbecue is this?"
"Welcome!" The man greets you. "My name is Phillip. You must be the wonderful Miss Y/N, and her friend...?"
"Davina," She finishes with a tight-lipped smile.
"Master Rogers awaits you both," Phillip tells you warmly, shooting you a wink. "I'm sure he'll be delighted to know you've arrived."
You follow him into the house and he leads you through the entryway and back out into the garden. There are a lot more people than you expected to see, and you immediately become acutely aware of just where you are.
"What the fuck am I doing?" You mutter to yourself, before turning to Davina. "How could you let me do this?"
Her rage-filled eyes widen. "I am going to beat your ass," She utters lowly, grabbing your hand. "Let's get out of here before someone sees us-"
"What the ever-living fuck are you doing here?" A cold voice suddenly cuts in behind you. You turn to see Jamie pushing her sunglasses up on her head as she looks you up and down with a glare. "Could that dress be any shorter?"
"We got lost," Davina claims, making you roll your eyes before stepping forward.
"I was invited," You remind Jamie curtly. "It would be rude to turn your father down."
"He only invited you 'cuz he thinks we're friends," She points out with a huff. "Why would you even want to be here, anyway? Are you planning something? I swear to God, if you're trying to pull something-"
"Relax, Jamie," You say calmly, patting her shoulder. "I just came by for a burger. No ulterior motive."
Astounded, she scoffs and points behind you. "Leave. Now. And take your little puppy with you," She hisses, giving Davina a dirty look.
"Screw you!" Davina retorts, and a determined look grows on her face. "You know what? Come on, Y/N, I see Mr. Rogers cooking sausages and they look delicious."
You snort as she practically drags you across the lawns and to the barbecue, where Steve is standing in a blue polo shirt and shorts. God, he's sexy. When he spots you, his face lights up and he takes off his sunglasses. Smiling widely, he puts down the tongs and opens his arms. "Hey, Y/N!" He greets you, pulling you in for a quick hug.
"Hi, Mr. Rogers," You reply coyly, looking up at him with a grin when you pull back.
"Please, call me Steve," He requests before glancing at Davina. "Hello, there. Another friend of Jamie's?"
She gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Something like that. Do you have any ice cream?"
"Sure do, honey. Head on inside and find Phillip; tell him I said you can have whatever you want," He says, to which she excitedly rushes away.
"Your house is amazing," You gush, standing at his side as he flips over a few burgers.
"Thank you," Steve says with a chuckle, quickly looking you up and down. "Cute dress. Buy it just for me?"
Your stomach flips but you hold your own, not letting your weakness be shown. "What, this old thing?" Lie. You bought it straight after your last encounter with him, but he doesn't need to know that. "So, Master Rogers, huh? Do you also have a batcave and a latex suit?"
Steve grins. "I dunno about the cave, but I'm sure I can find some latex for us to use," He says smoothly.
"Ugh. That was corny," You complain with narrow eyes. "I do appreciate the advocacy for safe sex, though."
"Yeah, I probably should've thought of that the last two times I saw you," He says with a wince while opening up a packet of burger buns. "You're on the pill, right?"
You nod. "And you're not fucking anyone else, are you?"
"Jealous?" He asks you with a cocky smirk. "Nah, baby. I don't have the energy or desire to be fucking anyone else right now."
"Me neither," You agree, wanting to be fully transparent with him. "Pietro and I still fool around, though - but not sex."
Steve swallows thickly but nods, keeping his eye on his meat.
Having not noticed his slight discomfort at your revelation, your eye catches a birthday banner hung up above the pool. "Where's the birthday boy? This is for Jamie's uncle or something, right?"
Steve nods, looking around. "Yeah, my best friend, Bucky. He should be here somewhere..."
You scan the crowd until you spot a man about Steve's age wearing a pink party hat and smoking a thick cigar. He has a big build, paired with a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes. Fucking hell. Are all the men in Jamie's family this hot?
"I think I see him," You utter, unable to take your eyes off him.
"Yeah, that's Buck," Steve says, focusing on his burgers. "You should go over to him. Birthday wishes from pretty girls always make him smile."
He doesn't have to say it twice. Before the sentence even fully leaves Steve's mouth, you're already trekking over to where Bucky's pulling out a beer from a cooler. His lips curl up when he notices you approaching him, and he quickly looks you up and down.
"Hi, there," Bucky greets you smoothly. "You one of Jamie's girlfriends?"
"Steve invited me," You point out, wanting to be more than just his niece's classmate.
"Did he, now?" He asks, raising a brow.
"Bucky's a weird name," You say curtly, pointing at the banner before stealing his beer and taking a swig.
Looking surprised by how forward you're being, he chuckles. "Uh, yeah. My first name is James, middle name Buchanan. Steve came up with Bucky when we were kids," He explains.
"James..." You trail off as the cogs in your head turn. "Was Jamie-?"
"Named after me," Bucky finishes proudly. "I'm her Godfather."
"Uncle Bucky!" A sudden shrill voice sounds out, right before Jamie jumps in between the two of you. "What are you doing over here? C'mon, let's help Dad with the food."
"I'm in the middle of a conversation, J," He clarifies sternly, making you smirk while she deflates.
"Right," She mutters under her breath. Turning to you, she lifts up her red solo cup, and it's almost as though the next few seconds happen in slow motion. Jamie moves forward as though planning on walking past you, before pretending to trip on nothing and spilling her drink all down your dress. Her eyes meet yours and she faux gasps. "Oops!"
The freezing cold beverage soaks through your cotton dress, sticking to your chest and making you shiver. Once the shock wears off, you're outraged - but you keep on a calm front for Bucky.
"What the hell, Jamie?" He says with a frown, putting down his beer and sticking his cigar between his teeth.
"I slipped!" She claims innocently while you cringe at the sensation of your wet, sticky skin.
"Come on, darlin', let's go clean you up," Bucky mumbles, nodding towards the house as he takes your hand in his.
"She can take care of herself, Uncle Bucky!" Jamie whines. "Let's go help Dad-"
"Stop acting like a child," He scolds her firmly, shutting her up as her lips slam together.
A wide smile breaks out on your lips, and just before Bucky whisks you into the house, you shoot Jamie a wink. First her dad, now her godfather? You're on a fucking roll. But it's not like she doesn't deserve it - your dress wasn't cheap, and it's likely ruined.
Bucky takes you upstairs and into a bathroom that most definitely has to be Jamie's judging by the decor and products, where he grabs you a towel. You do your best to wipe up as much of the liquid as possible, but your chest is still sticky.
"Here, lemme wet a few napkins," He suggests, taking his cigar out of his mouth and holding it out to you. "Grab that for me, cheerleader."
You take it from him and a few seconds pass before you process what he called you. With a frown, you tilt your head. "How did you know I'm a cheerleader?" You question him curiously.
He's dampening a few paper towels in the sink and he looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror with a sheepish look on his face. "Lucky guess?" He offers.
Narrowing your eyes, you place the cigar in your mouth. "Oh, sure. I bet Mr. Rogers has told you everything, hasn't he?" You ask flatly, only slightly annoyed at the idea of Steve bragging about you to his best friend.
Bucky smirks down at you, watching as you take a puff from the cigar. It's thankfully not too bitter for you, and you slowly blow out the smoke while keeping your cool. He then takes it back from you, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Those are bad for you, cheerleader," He mumbles with a wicked look in his eyes. "There are plenty of better things you could be putting in that pretty mouth of yours."
Tilting your head, you purse your lips. "Like what, James?" You ask him.
Instead of answering you, he grabs the moistened napkins and begins to pat them on your chest, cleaning up the residual liquid. "You're gonna have to take your dress off," Bucky tells you casually, staring at your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your dress. Subconsciously, you pull your shoulders back and accentuate your bust, which he notices and smirks at.
"Could you help me?" You ask him, your voice a little softer than usual as you feel your panties dampen at his touch.
He steps closer until there's no space between you, your bodies pressing against each other. With his breath on your lips, Bucky grabs two handfuls of the skirt of your dress and pulls it up, over your head. He tosses it to the side before looking you up and down, taking a puff from the cigar while drinking you in. Without a word, he lifts you up by your hips and sits you down on the edge of the sink, moving to stand between your legs.
"I can help you however you want," He utters smoothly, stroking your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "However you need, cheerleader."
Although you know it's inherently a bad idea to go there with Bucky, you can't help but want to, so bad. And right now, when it's only you and him, and you're already half naked, there's no way you'll make the right decision.
"Touch me," You request lightly, resting your hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah? That's what you want?" He asks, his eyes twinkling. When you nod, he steps closer to you and continues stroking your leg, gradually moving his fingers closer to your heat. You gasp when he brushes them over your panties, making your legs tremble. "Don't worry, baby, there's no need to be nervous. It's just me," He assures you, only making you want him more.
He takes off your panties, biting his lip when he lays eyes on your practically glistening cunt. With a small smile, he looks into your eyes while running his fingers through your folds, making you whimper.
"Tell me how you want it, cheerleader," He says as he slowly pushes a finger into your entrance. "Talk to me."
"Fuck," You breathe out as he slowly opens you up. He thrusts his finger in and out of you a few times before you feel a increased desire. "More," You utter. "More, please."
"Yeah? You want one more?" Bucky asks teasingly, not taking long to comply with your request. He slips another digit into you, making you shudder. It's almost painful how slow he's going, the smug look on his face telling you he wants you to beg him for what you want.
"Faster," You say weakly, leaning back until your head rests against the mirror.
He does as you say, fucking his fingers into you faster, keeping his eyes on your face. "That feel good, cheerleader?" He asks you with a smirk.
"Yes," You cry out, gripping the edge of the counter with both your hands. "Feels so good, Bucky."
"Good girl," He mumbles, using his free hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh.
After a few moments, you're aching for something more. "Bucky, could you..." You begin, slightly nervous to complete the request.
"What is it, baby?" He asks you, continuing to finger you.
"Please, could you... curl your fingers?" You ask sweetly, placing your hands on his biceps, shuddering when you feel his muscles flex beneath your palms.
Your question makes him chuckle, and he nods. "Like this?" He asks before curling his digits inside you, making you squirm.
"Oh, shit!" You call out as your pleasure increases tenfold. "Oh, my God, just like that."
"Yeah? Like this, baby? You like that?" Bucky asks, getting off on your moans.
You feel lightheaded as he continues, every inch of your skin on fire. "I'm dizzy," You whisper.
"You're getting so tight around me," He mutters, fingering you harder while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? Gonna be a good girl and cream all over my fingers?"
"Fuck, yes!" You moan as your eyes roll back. "Oh, shit, I'm cumming."
"That's it, good girl," He coaxes you through your orgasm as pure bliss rains over you. Your pussy squeezes around his fingers and your juices coat his hand, and he continues fingering you through your high.
Just as he's about to lean in to kiss you, the bathroom door swings open and you feel your heart fall to your feet. When you turn to see Steve in the doorway, you're only slightly relieved.
"Hey, man," Bucky says as he slips his fingers out of you, giving him a sly grin. "Thanks for the birthday present." When he sees the less than pleased look on Steve's face, Bucky winces. "Oh. Is this your girl?" Turning back to you, he gently taps your knee. "See, the reason me and Steve have been best friends so long because we have same taste in beer and different taste in women."
You raise a brow at his statement, subtly closing your legs. Steve is also confused, as he asks, "The fuck are you talking about, Buck?"
"Look at her!" Bucky exclaims, gesturing to you. "She has me written all over her. How was I supposed to know she was yours?"
"Alright, you can leave now," Steve grumbles, standing to the side to allow the brunet space to leave.
Holding his hands up in surrender, Bucky shoots you one last wink before walking out of the bathroom, patting Steve's chest on his way out. Once the two of you are alone, you give Steve an innocent look.
"It's his birthday," You excuse with a coy smile. "And you're the one who introduced me to him."
He lets out a grumble, walking further in and shutting the door behind him. "Is that right?" He asks, raising a brow. "You gonna fuck every man I introduce you to?"
"You gonna keep introducing me to hot men?" You counter.
"Definitely not," He states, watching as you stand up and put your panties back on. "You wanna know why?"
"Why?" You bite, taking a step closer to him.
Suddenly, Steve grabs you by the chin and pulls you closer. "Because, you dumb little thing," He begins lowly. "You're mine."
His words are simple, but they still have an intense effect on you. You suck in a sharp breath, utterly taken by him.
"Now, here's what's going to happen," He says in a soft voice, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt. "You're going to get onto your knees, and I'm going to fuck that pretty face of yours, and in the morning, when your throat is sore from my cock tunneling down it, you're going to remember exactly who it is you belong to. Do you understand me?"
With a dumbstruck look on your face, you nod. "Yes, Sir," You reply gingerly.
Steve tilts his head. "Then why the fuck aren't you on your knees yet?"
Immediately, you sink down to your knees, eager to please him. He runs one of his hands through your hair while you unzip his pants, your heart racing with excitement. Finally, you reach into his boxers and take out his hard, throbbing cock, swearing that it looks bigger than last time.
With wide eyes, you slowly lick a stripe up his length. He shivers as you flick your tongue over a prominent vein, covering his dick in your spit. "Stop fucking teasing," He growls, cupping your head in his hands. "Open."
Obediently, you open your mouth as wide as possible before he plunges his cock inside. Your brain goes into panic mode as his dick sits heavy and thick on your tongue, but you take a few deep breaths through your nose to calm yourself down. Once he senses that you're ready, Steve begins to fuck your face, his tip hitting the back of your throat.
"Ah, fuck," He hisses, throwing his head back. "That's it, good girl."
You keep your eyes on him as you suck his cock. It feels like you're doing something wrong; sucking Jamie's dad off in her own bathroom, but it just feels so fucking right.
"That's it," He praises, pulling on the ends of your hair. "Take it all. I know you can."
His words motivate you to take his entire length, causing you to gag. Your vision blurs but you keep your eyes open and on him, wanting him to see how determined you are to please him. Needing him to know how devoted to his pleasure you are.
Steve's cock continues to slide over your tongue and slip down your throat as he uses you for his pleasure. "Good girl," He mumbles, making your heart jolt. Such a casual comment shouldn't have such a deep effect on you, but the words echo in your head and drive you to urgently chase his pride.
And chase it, you do.
Hollowing out your cheeks, you begin sucking him harder than ever. This makes him groan loudly as his hips buck forwards, pushing his cock further down your throat and making you choke. His shaft begins to throb and twitch incessantly in your mouth, his fingers wrapping tighter around your hair as he pulls your head forward. With an animalistic grunt and a string of curses, he cums in your mouth. You feel his hot seed pour down your throat, and you eagerly swallow every last drop.
"Oh, fuck," He groans, throwing his head back as he weakly thrusts a few more times, riding out his high. "That's my good little slut."
His cock leaves your mouth with a string of spit attached to it, and you lick it clean for him before he places it back into his pants which he promptly zips back up. He's still breathing heavily when he holds his hand out to you, pulling you up onto your feet when you take it.
Once you're standing up, he immediately crashes his lips onto yours in a hot, fervent kiss. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, darting your tongue into his mouth. His hands trail down your body and to your ass, which he squeezes in his big palms.
When he pulls away, both of you breathe heavily, and he smiles lazily. "Have I told you that you give the best head?" He asks teasingly.
"You don't have to," You say with a smirk. "All the noises you make are proof. And the fact you last less than-"
"Alright, I'm an old man, leave me be," He cuts you off, lightly spanking your ass. Suddenly, he sobers, and he looks deeper into your eyes. "So, you have fun with Bucky?"
"Sure did," You reply lightly. "Not as much as I have with you, though."
"Yeah?" He asks, to which you nod. "Good. That's good to know."
While you put your dress back on, you look around the bathroom, spotting the towel with Jamie's initial embroidered onto it. Knowing what you just did with her dad, and her uncle, you smirk, feeling satisfied. But deep down, there's a tinge of doubt, highlighted when Steve shoots a smile your way and your heart flutters.
Is this still just for revenge, or are you starting to catch feelings?
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Davina's cynical comment elicits an eye roll from you while you touch up your lip gloss in the mirror. "It's fate, Davie. How can I ignore fate?" You ask incredulously, turning to face her. "He's here, on campus. I have to take advantage of this opportunity!"
She lets out a long sigh, shaking her head as she watches you put on your uniform. "What are you wearing that for?" She asks with a frown.
"He might only be into me because of the whole cheerleader thing," You explain simply. "I can't risk him rejecting me."
"He's visiting his daughter at college; if he doesn't reject you, he's a pervert!" Davina retorts, standing up.
"No, he is not!" You shoot back. "He's beautiful, and really good at sex. Will you just let me have this?"
"There's no way he's gonna have sex with you again," She reckons, not too sure herself. "How would that even be logistically possible?"
"I don't need to fuck him; I just wanna see him again," You admit with a smile. "Twirl my skirt a little, take up some space in his mind."
She lets out a sigh but gives up on trying to stop you, which you take as her blessing.
Jamie Rogers' building is on the other side of campus. It's a short walk over, and you spend the whole time buzzing. The second you saw her dad on her Instagram story with a caption about how he had surprised her with a visit, you knew you had to at least try to see him.
You know exactly where she lives, thankfully. Her apartment is right next to Pietro's, which you frequent. When you get there, you knock on her door a few times, before stepping back and smoothing down your skirt. Almost a month has passed since you last saw Mr. Rogers, and you're itching for your next hit.
The door opens and Jamie immediately looks disgusted. "Are you lost?" She asks you, looking you up and down with a frown. "Maximoff lives next door."
"I'm not here to see Pietro," You reveal with a friendly smile, holding up the poster in your hand. "I came to invite you to help out with a fundraiser the Falconettes are hosting."
Utterly confused, Jamie scoffs. "You came all the way here to give me a poster for an event I most definitely will not be attending, let alone helping out with?" She asks incredulously.
You take in a deep breath before pushing past her, casually strolling into the apartment. "It's for a good cause," You insist, feeling your stomach flip when you see her father leaning against the breakfast bar. "Hi, Mr. Rogers! I didn't know you were visiting."
A smile grows on his face as he sees you, looking you up and down. "Hello, Y/N. It's good to see you again," He greets you with a subtle smirk.
"Yeah, she was just leaving," Jamie interjects, snatching the poster from your hand. "Why should I care about this fundraiser?"
Giving her a warm smile, despite how much you just want to give her just as much attitude back, you reply, "We're trying to raise money for our flights to Nationals. But whatever we have left over is going to the Falcons, so I figured you'd be interested in helping out."
"That sounds great," Mr. Rogers suddenly chimes in. "Honey, you're always complaining that you guys don't have enough budget for a new uniform."
"Exactly!" You add on with a grin, holding your hand and taking Jamie's. "Everyone can win, Jamie, if we all work together."
She grimaces before pulling her hand back. "Why are you being so nice to me after last week?" She questions you with narrow eyes. "Get high off your boyfriend's supply, again?"
The mention of last week makes your eye twitch. At a party, you and Jamie had got into yet another argument, which ended with her dumping her drink on your head. Most of your motivation to fuck her dad again comes from the rage you felt that night, but you slap on a fake smile and keep up the act.
"Don't be silly, Jay! Bygones!" You exclaim with a soft laugh, gently hitting her arm. "And Pietro and I are just friends, you know that!"
Raising a brow, she lowers her voice. "Yeah, that's not what I heard the other night-"
"Anyway!" You cut her off, turning to Mr. Rogers. "Have you two got any fun plans today?"
Jamie huffs, giving up with trying to make you leave anytime soon. Mr. Rogers steps forward, folding his big arms across his chest. "We're gonna watch a play," He tells you.
"Right after I shower and get ready," Jamie mumbles, looking down at her watch.
"Oh. Right," You say, feeling a bout of mischief as you slowly back away towards the door. "Well, I'm going next door to hang with Piet."
"When?" She questions, confusing you.
"Uh, right now?" You retort with a frown.
"No, when did I ask?" She asks with an eye-roll, but you're too busy giving Mr. Rogers fuck-me eyes to notice her diss.
"Enjoy your shower, Jamie," You sing, before getting down on one knee and pretending to be tying your shoelace.
"Enjoy screwing your boyfriend, slut," She retorts quietly, to which you shoot her a wink.
"I will," You whisper while she storms out of the room.
When you hear her bedroom door slamming shut, you look up from your shoes to see Mr. Rogers walking over to you. You're about to get up, but he cups your cheek in his hand and lowers his voice. "Stay there," He orders with a mumble, making your pussy throb.
You say nothing, too awestruck by his silent dominance as he unbuckles his belt and pulls out his hard cock. Your other knee lowers to the carpeted floor and your lips part instinctively.
"Miss me?" He asks you teasingly, tapping his tip on your bottom lip.
"Yeah," You whisper breathlessly, already flustered into complete submission.
"Been thinking about how good I fucked you?" He questions lowly, slowly inching his dick into your mouth. "'Bout how nobody else could ever make you cum that hard?"
Your stomach flips and you know that it's true; nobody comes close to being as good as him as pressing your every button. For the past month, you've been masturbating to the memory of him, and now that you have the chance to experience him again, you're utterly overwhelmed. Fucking Pietro is nice and all, but he doesn't hold a candle to Steven Rogers.
Without warning, he begins to fuck your face. You tightly grab his thighs in each of your hands, taken aback by his rough intrusion. "Keep your eyes on me," He growls, running a hand through your hair before pulling on the ends. "That's it. Don't act so coy, baby, we both know this is exactly what you came here for."
You let out whimpers around his cock, your heart racing as it tunnels down your throat. Incapable of a single coherent thought, you simply stare up at him, letting your jaw relax and letting him use you like a toy. You feel yourself getting wetter, every one of Steve's grunts making your cunt throb. In an attempt to feel some relief, you squeeze your legs together and slightly move your hips back and forth.
"Look at you," He mutters with an arrogant smirk, slowing down his thrusts. "Getting wet for me, baby? Need me in your pussy?"
You nod as best as you can, eager to fuck him again and also keenly aware that you don't have much time with him. Jamie could jump out the shower any minute, and the two of you know that. Without wasting a second, Steve pulls out of your mouth and grabs your arm, dragging you up to your feet. Dazed, you stumble backwards, and he follows you to push you against the wall and give you a sloppy kiss.
"Haven't stopped thinking about you," He admits lowly, squeezing your hips as his forehead rests against yours. "That perfect pussy. I'm hooked, baby."
Timidly, you wrap your fingers around his dick, gently and slowly stroking it. Steve's jaw clenches as he groans lowly, his eyes darkening.
"Fuck. Come here," He mumbles before lifting up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. You rest your arms on his shoulders and your stomach flips with excitement as he brings his cock to your entrance. "Ready?"
"Yes," You whisper, before gasping when he sinks into you. Slowly, he feeds you every inch of himself, his pulsing dick filling you up.
"Oh, fuck," He groans, throwing his head back. "Shit, you're gonna kill me."
Once you're used to his intrusion, you squeeze his shoulder and nod profusely. Steve takes that as his green light and begins pounding in and out of you, fucking you against the wall and making the shelves shake. Your voice is stolen as he fucks you, and you're unable to let anything besides weak whimpers and moans out of your mouth.
"That's it, baby, you're taking me so well," Steve praises you, thrusting harder. "That's my girl."
You light up at his words, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He can tell he's already got you in the palm of his hand, and he loves it. Suddenly, he stops his movements and begins walking you over to the couch. Jamie's couch. Steve puts you down onto your feet before bending you over the back of the couch and lifting up your skirt again.
"Such a good little slut for me," He utters, slapping his tip against your pussy a few times before pushing it back into you. You feel him much deeper in this position, and it makes your toes curl when he brushes against your cervix. He gives you no time to adjust, fucking into you hard and fast once again.
Steve takes your hands in his, pulling your arms behind you as he slams in and out of you. Your moans are loud, but you don't care. Jamie's music is blasting from the bathroom, and even if it wasn't, you grin widely at the thought of the look on her face if she were to walk in on her dad railing her worst enemy on her own couch.
"You are unreal," Steve says, making you smirk at how smitten you've made him. He slows down his thrusts and cups your face, bringing you up so your back is against his front. "Tell me, baby, who does this pussy belong to?"
Through your smile, you reply, "It belongs to you, daddy. I'm all yours."
He pulls out before turning you around to face him and cups your cheeks in his hands. With a deep kiss, he lets you know exactly how obsessed with you he is, and you're glad your feelings are mutual. During the kiss, as his tongue dances with yours, Steve picks you back up and takes you over to the breakfast counter. There, he sits you down onto a stool before lifting your legs up and placing them on his shoulders.
"All mine," He repeats with a mumble, marrying his cock back to your cunt, sliding back into you. "My good little slut."
He fucks into you deeper than ever, lightly wrapping his hand around your throat. You feel dizzy, overcome with pleasure. "Daddy," You whine as your eyes roll back.
"Fuck, baby, take it," Steve grunts, pawing at your tits through your top. "That feel good?"
"So good," You reply, digging your nails into his biceps. "Please don't stop, daddy, make me cum."
Your words spur him on to fuck you harder, and soon you feel your core tighten. With a loud cry, you let go and cum, overwhelmed with a rush of bliss and intense relief.
"That's my fuckin' girl," He groans, thrusting slower. He pounds into you a few more times before cumming, shooting his load into you with a grunt. "Shit."
Shuddering, you slowly come down from your high while Steve gently puts your panties back into place and smoothes down your skirt. Once your mind is back on the ground, and you can see clearly again, you realize you're sitting at the counter and Steve is opening up a bottle of kombucha before he slides it over to you.
"Drink up, cheerleader," He says, giving you a smile.
"Fuck," You mumble, fixing your hair. "Did we really just do that?"
Smirking, Steve rests his hands on the counter. "You wanna come watch the play with us?" He asks, watching as you take a sip.
"Absolutely not," Is your instant reply.
He knows to give up, shrugging before holding out his hand. "Give me your phone," He orders, waiting for you to fish it out of your pocket and place it in his pal. "Password?"
You tell him the number code, curiously observing as he types and swipes. After a few moments, he hands it back to you.
"Call me," He says simply, to which you snort.
"You're so old," You tease him.
With an eye roll, he sighs. "Fine, text me, or whatever the fuck," He huffs.
"I will," You chirp, putting your phone away.
"When?" He asks.
"When I want to," You say with a casual shrug. "Might not be a while."
Steve raises a brow, giving you a cold look while saying nothing. It's enough to knock all the confidence out of you and you immediately lose the attitude.
"Tonight," You correct yourself, earning a smug look from him. "When will you get home?"
"Around 9," He answers, before a mischievous glint shines in his eyes. "Come with me."
"I have classes tomorrow, and don't you have work?" You wonder with a frown.
Steve shakes his head. "Retired."
Taken aback, you scoff. "You're like, not even forty! How are you retired?"
"Created a banking software in my early twenties, developed it for a decade, sold it in my early thirties, invested in a bunch of companies with the money, and here I am. No need to work for the rest of my life," He explains calmly, as though he isn't describing his journey to self-made millionairism.
"Oh," You say simply. "Nice."
Steve leans forward, resting his arms on the counter. "So, come see my big house," He invites.
With a sigh, you shake your head. "Sounds good, but I have training tomorrow," You say with an apologetic look. "Nationals are soon, and I can't let my girls down."
"So you're gonna let your man down instead?" He asks, smoothly using the possessive pronoun like it's nothing and turning you into a giddy ball of nerves. Your man.
Thankfully, before you have to say something in response, Jamie re-enters the living space, screwing her face up when she sees you. "Why are you still here?"
Sitting up, you give her a grin. "Your father and I were just talking about finance. His journey is truly fascinating, I'm a big fan of his work," You lie through your teeth.
Unconvinced, she raises a brow. "You care about finance?" She asks incredulously. "The cheerleader majoring in Excercising Science cares about finance?"
"I have a quiet passion for math," You claim, standing up.
"Whatever," She mutters. "You can leave, now."
"Aren't you gonna invite your friend to the barbecue next weekend, J?" Steve asks, giving her an expectant look.
"She's not my friend, dad," She reminds him, frustrated.
"Don't be rude, Jamie," He says sternly, before giving you a smile. "You should come, Y/N. Jamie's Uncle Bucky works in Sport Science; I'm sure the two of you will have plenty to talk about."
Storming over to you, Jamie lowers her voice. "I'll come to your stupid fundraiser. Now, will you please get out of my life?"
The twinkle in Steve's eye is holding you captive, and you can't help but smile back at him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," You sing, before shooting her a wink.
i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifs đ
Hi mommy Kinny. For a Steve request, how about enemyâs! Dad steve. Like the person you hate the most has the hottest dad oops đ¤
The Cheerleader
18+
The captain of the football team is a total bitch. Her dad's pretty fucking hot, though.
Content Warning: DILF!Steve x Cheerleader!Reader, age gap (around 20 yrs), smut (public sex, daddy kink, degradation kink, face fucking, rough sex, cream pie), no aftercare.
"We won't stop, we won't be beat! Falcons never taste defeat! Goooooo Falcons!"
You kick your leg straight up at the end of the chant, waving your pom-poms with a wide grin. Cheering for the football team isn't exactly your favorite part of cheerleading, but it has to be done. It feel juvenile and basic compared to the intense cheer competitions you take part in, but part of college cheering unfortunately includes supporting the sports teams.
No matter how irritating the players are.
"Make sure there aren't any of your feathers laying around, this time," Jamie spits bitterly as you and the others walk off the field. "Annoying ass chants."
"Excuse me?" You ask pointedly while Davina attempts to pull you away.
"You heard me," Jamie doubles down, glaring at you. "Get off the damn field; your embarrassing dance is over."
Rolling your eyes, you pull your arm out of Davina's grip before stepping closer to Jamie. "You know, maybe if you stopped losing so badly, game after game, you wouldn't be so frustrated," You say casually. "The only thing embarrassing about what I do is the fact that it's for such a shitty team."
"What would Coach Wilson say if he heard you talk about the team like that?" She retorts bitterly.
You start to walk away, shrugging. "I don't know, Rogers. If you ever take his dick out of your mouth long enough for you to ask him, let me know what he says."
Her eyes widen with rage as she lunges for you. "Bitch!" She yells, immediately being held back by her teammates.
Jamie Margaret Rogers is your worst enemy. It's been that way since freshman year, and you don't see it ever changing. For some inexplicable reason, the two of you have never gotten along. Something about the other sets off the ugliest side of you both, leading to blow ups and fights if you're ever in the same vicinity for too long.
"One day, one of you is gonna end up killing the other," Davina warns as she leads you over to the bleachers. "Do you know how traumatic that's gonna be for me to witness?"
"She's fucking insufferable," You mutter, slamming your ass down on an empty seat.
You manage to calm down somewhat as the game begins, doing your best to ignore the fact that you despise the captain of the team. Time passes and soon it's halftime.
"What's she doing?" Davina asks with a frown, her eyes on Jamie who is currently rushing up the stairs of the bleachers.
"I swear to God, if she starts on me again, I'm gonna rip her head off," You grumble, sitting up and preparing yourself for another round.
She reaches your row and you're sure she's about to yell at you - until she grins widely. "Dad, you came!"
Oh.
Out of curiosity, you turn to the left to watch her as she talks to her father. When you get a glimpse of him, though, you do a double take. Why the fuck is he so hot?
After a brief conversation, Jamie rushes back down to the field, leaving you with wide eyes.
"Bro," You utter, gripping Davina's forearm. "Please tell me why Jamie's dad is the most attractive man I've ever seen."
Assuming that you're kidding, Davina looks over with a smirk - before it drops completely. "Holy shit."
Blinking a few times, you release her arm and state, "I'm gonna fuck him."
She snorts, narrowing her eyes at you. "You cannot fuck Jamie's dad. He's married."
"Her parents are divorced. Remember that essay she wrote about it?" You ask, feeling your heart race. "Oh, my God."
"Have you seen him?" Davina questions you with a scoff. "As if he's single."
"I don't care," You say flippantly. "He's an older man and I'm a cheerleader; he'll be into it. I'm literally going to fuck him. This is the greatest revenge plan."
"Y/N, you can't-"
"See you on the other side," You cut her off and stand to your feet, taking in a deep breath. Letting your adrenaline propel you, you slowly start to walk up to his row. He's focusing on the game, but he gives you a couple of glances as you stand at the side. Instead of saying a single word, you simply send him a smile. When he looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your short skirt, you know you've got a chance.
The second your eyes meet, you shoot him a wink. He raises a brow at you, and you feel your stomach flip. Fuck. He's so hot.
Sitting next to him is Pietro, your plug, so you walk over to kneel on an empty seat in front of them before leaning over the back of it. "Hey, Piet," You begin, instinctively pushing your chest out. "Can you drop off a gram to my dorm tonight?"
Jamie's dad keeps his eyes forward, doing his best to make it look like he isn't listening to the conversation.
"Sure thing," Pietro replies before lowering his voice. "You gonna pay me in cash this time?"
You laugh at that, leaning closer into him. "How about I just suck your dick again?"
He sighs, rolling his eyes. "You're lucky I have a thing for cheerleaders," Pietro mutters bitterly.
As you get up to walk away, you make eye contact with Jamie's dad who's staring intently at you. You lick your lips before walking past him, making sure to brush your leg against his shoulder as you walk up the stairs and to the back of the stadium.
It takes him four minutes to join you in the parking lot.
He pretends to have only come for a smoke break; lighting a cigarette and leaning against the fence without sparing you a glance. You saunter over to him, coyly smiling as you approach him.
"Can I?" You ask him innocently, glancing down at the cigarette.
His eyes flicker down to you. "It's bad for you."
"Who cares?" You shrug. "Everyone does it."
Turning to you, he leans down and lowers his voice. "The only thing your lips should ever wrap around is a cock," He utters. "And, judging from your conversation with your little friend, you do that plenty."
You tilt your head. "Are you calling me a slut, Mr. Rogers?"
"Depends," He replies, standing up straight. "Are you a slut?"
"Depends," You echo. "Do you want me to be?" Reaching out, you place your hand on his huge bicep. "I can be a good girl, if you want. I can be a virgin who's never so much as kissed a boy. Is what what you're into, Mr. Rogers? You wanna ruin my innocence?"
He swallows thickly before tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. Without a word, he grabs you by the throat and drags you behind one of the big buses. Clenching his jaw, he pushes you against the side of it and moves his face closer to yours. "How about I just treat you like the fuckin' whore you are?" He suggests with a growl.
You whimper at his words, bucking your hips up in an attempt to feel his crotch rub against yours.
Tutting, he shakes his head. "Look at you," He mumbles softly. "So desperate for an old man's attention, hmm?"
"Please," You whine lowly.
"Please what, little girl?" He questions you with a smug look.
"Please, use me," You whisper. "I'm worthless unless I have your cock in one of my holes."
His eyes light up as he smirks. "Such a well-trained whore," He mutters, mostly to himself. "You crave my approval, don't you?"
"Yes," You mewl, clinging onto him. "Please, Sir."
"Someone messed you up real bad, hmm?" He asks. "And now all you wanna do is make daddy proud?"
Your heart skips a beat. "Yes, please."
"You dumb little girl," He coos teasingly, stroking your cheek. "Don't you fret. Daddy's gonna give you plenty of opportunity to make him proud, alright?"
"Thank you, daddy," You say, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Looking you up and down, he licks his lips. "Get on your knees."
You obey him, wincing as the hard gravel presses into your knees.
"Aw," He says with a pout. "Does it hurt, baby?"
Nodding silently, you lift your knee up slightly to relieve it of the pressure.
The kindness disappears completely from his face, and it's as though he's become a different person. "Open your fucking mouth, slut," He orders gruffly. "I don't care if your knees bleed. Be of some use and suck my cock."
"Yes, Sir," You reply. The next few moments pass by in a blur and then his dick is halfway down your throat. Your mind is free of thought and all you can focus on is the darkening blue of his eyes which are staring down at you. His hands grab fistfuls of your hair and he uses the makeshift pigtails as handles to assist him in fucking your face.
"Fuck, just like that," He groans, watching his cock disappear and reappear in and out of your mouth. "Taking it like the good little slut I knew you'd be."
You swirl your tongue around his shaft, eager to bring him pleasure. He pulls harder on your hair, making tears spring into your eyes and shots of electric pleasure course through your body.
"Look at how much prettier you are with your mouth stuffed," He coos, stroking away a stray tear from your cheek. "I bet your pussy will be even prettier once I stuff her."
Your eyes roll back and you moan around his cock, squeezing your legs together in a desperate attempt to feel some friction. Mr. Rogers notices, and the sight makes him smirk.
"Are you getting wet for me, baby?" He asks you teasingly. "Sucking cock makes you horny, doesn't it?"
You nod as best you can, keeping your eyes on his.
"Can you feel yourself getting wet?" He questions with a sly grin as he continues fucking your throat. "That pussy's begging for daddy's cock, isn't she?"
"Mmm," Is all you can respond with, making him groan at the vibrations you send through his dick.
"Fuck," He hisses under his breath. Just as his cock twitches against your tongue, he quickly pulls out of your mouth, wanting to save himself for your cunt. With no gentleness, he grabs your arm and pulls you back up to your feet. Then, he places his hands under each of your thighs before lifting you up and pushing you back against the bus.
"Daddy," You mumble weakly, taken aback by his dominance. It's been a while since you've had good sex, and you most definitely weren't expecting to get it today, or from Jamie's dad.
"Already brain-dead and I haven't even stretched that pussy out, yet," Mr. Rogers mumbles mostly to himself. He pulls up your tennis skirt and clenches his jaw when he sees the black, Spandex shorts you're wearing underneath. "Fuck's sake." Without warning, he puts you back down on the ground before turning you around and pressing your face to the bus. "It's your own fault I have to take you like this, so no complaining about me fucking you too deep. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir," You whimper, heart racing at the thought of it. You could barely take his entire length into your mouth, and so you're more than thrilled to know he's about to drill it into you.
Your shorts are roughly pulled down, taking your panties with them and leaving you bare. They're tight around your knees, but you have no time to complain as Mr. Rogers is already sinking into your soaking pussy. Once he's a few inches deep, he wraps one hand around your throat and grips your waist with the other, keeping you firmly in place.
"Don't be afraid to be loud," He whispers slyly in your ear. "Nobody will hear you."
With that, he slams the rest of his cock into you, and you immediately let out a cry. He doesn't give you time to adjust and begins fucking you hard and fast, brushing against your cervix with every thrust. Your eyelids drop and you can't hear anything outside of his groans and your bodies slapping together, your vision blurring.
"Don't you dare pass out on me," He grumbles, bringing his hand to your cheek and slapping it, pulling you out of your head. "C'mon. I wanna hear you, slut."
"Feels so good, Mr. Rogers," You whine as he kisses your jaw.
"Mmm, that's a good girl," He moans lowly, slapping your ass. "Such a good girl, knowing exactly what you're made for. Made for taking cock."
"Yes, Sir," You respond, shivering when his teeth sink into your neck.
"Your pussy is golden," He growls, pounding into your faster. "You're gonna milk me fuckin' dry."
"Please, daddy, cum inside me," You beg him, feeling your end approach.
"Not until you cum for me, baby," He says, tightening his grip on your throat. "Rub that clit. Show me how you play with yourself when you think about older men like me railing you, like the horny little slut you are."
You're convinced that his words alone could bring you to orgasm, every sentence setting you off and flooding you with pleasure. As he ordered, you bring a hand down to your clit and begin rubbing it in fast circles, desperate to cum. Mr. Rogers looks down over your shoulder, groaning as he watches you touch yourself.
"Ah, fuck," He grunts. "Gonna make me cum so hard, baby, don't stop."
"Daddy," You whine, throwing your head back as your stomach flips. "I'm gonna- daddy, cumming!"
He thrusts harder when he feels you gushing, tightening around his cock. Unable to hold back, he lets go and cums deep inside you, letting out a guttural groan. Falling forward with his face in your neck, he thrusts a few more times, giving you every drop of his seed.
You're breathing heavily, still feeling aftershocks while you come down from your high. At some point, you feel him pull out, and immediately you realize how sore you are. Mr. Rogers helps pull your panties and shorts back up, but that's the extent of his kindness as he steps back, leaving you there to recover against the side of the bus.
After a few moments, the sound of a lighter brings you back to reality and you turn around to see him smoking against the fence. Finding your footing, you slowly walk over to him, take the cigarette from his mouth, and take a long drag. He watches as you slowly blow out the smoke, and the two of you continue sharing it in silence.
The crowd eventually bursts into loud cheers and you can tell that the game is over. Leaving Mr. Rogers behind, you make your way back to the field, hoping there aren't any visible marks on your body from the sinful act you just committed.
Jamie and her teammates are making their way to the changing rooms when you stop her in her tracks to give her a smile. "You played amazingly, Jamie," You tell her warmly, earning yourself a confused glare.
"That was a great game, sweetheart," A deep voice adds from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.
"We lost, Dad," She points out bitterly.
"You still played really well!" You insist with a grin, in a largely better mood than before.
Mr. Rogers steps forward so he's standing next to you and he places a hand on your lower back, making your stomach flutter. "How about I take you and your friend out for a nice meal?" He asks Jamie, whose face contorts at the suggestion.
"Ew, she's not my friend," She tells him with a scoff.
"That's okay, Mr. Rogers, but thank you so much," You say politely, smiling up at him. "I hope to see you at the next game."
Jamie grimaces at your words, rolling her eyes and turning away.
Mr. Rogers shoots you a wink while patting your ass. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifs đ
Kinny i have embarrassing news that would probably be a good drabble, so awhile ago i gave my friend my old phone and like I swear i deleted everything on it but he told me he somehow found some â¨spicy pics⨠of me on it and i wanna DIE. Anyways feel like it would be less embarrassing if i gave my old phone to cocky!bestfriend!bucky OKAY BYE I LOVE YOU CONGRATS ON 10k FOLLOWERS!!
art imitates life or whatever so here we go
separation anxiety
18+
content warning: semi-dark!frat!bucky x bestfriend!reader, mature themes, fluff, sexy pictures, bucky is a perv but are we surprised? he's also an annoying finance bro in this but we can look past that, smut (DUB!CON, CNC, daddy kink, mommy kink, forced breeding kink), fluff.
the smut got a lot darker than i planned oops
"And there you go," Sam says proudly, handing you your new phone. "All set up and ready for you."
"Thank you so much!" You exclaim, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad; I had my old phone for half a decade."
"Speaking of your old phone," Bucky begins, sitting at the breakfast counter. "You got it with you?"
You stand up and walk over to him, digging through your jacket pocket to pull out your old phone. It's in relatively good condition for a 5-year-old, but you were bored of it. "Why do you want it, again?" You ask him with a raised brow.
"I'm sick of using my phone to keep up with stocks," He tells you, taking it from your hand. "This way, I can keep it all separate."
Rolling your eyes, you shrug. "Alright, Wolf of Wall Street, have fun."
"Come on, sprinkle," He groans with a smirk. "You know how hard it makes me when you call me that."
"Freak," You mutter, hitting his shoulder before making your way back over to Sam on the couch. Steve and Wanda are making out by the speakers, Natasha's in the kitchen making nachos, and Thor and Peter are playing video games on the other couch.
"We should do this more often," Sam suggests. "You know; instead of stupidly big parties, just hang out and chill."
"You're right, Sammy," You agree as you rest your head on his shoulder, looking around the room at your friends. "A lot less clean-up, too."
"And nobody's trying to have sex on my bed," He adds bitterly, still jaded from the last party.
Coming over to sit on the other side of you, Bucky sighs. "I don't know; I kinda like when everyone's having sex everywhere," He chimes in. "Makes it more fun."
"Perv," You mutter while Sam grimaces.
"You love it," Bucky mumbles, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer to him and away from Sam.
"Oh! He did it again!" Nat calls from the kitchen, pointing at you. "Steve was right!"
Pulling away from Wanda, Steve grins and says, "Told you fuckers. Thor, you owe me twenty bucks."
"Fuck's sake," Thor grumbles.
"What are you guys talking about?" Bucky asks them, utterly baffled.
You throw your head back over the couch, shaking your head as you smile.
"Sprinkle?" He utters lowly. "What are they talking about, huh?"
Sam leans forward, smirking triumphantly. "Steve pointed out a few days ago that you cannot handle anyone else touching Y/N," He reveals. "And you always have to be touching her yourself."
"That's not true," Bucky argues with a frown, keeping his arm around you nonetheless. "It's just... comfortable to hold her. To hold anyone. I do it to Nat all the time!"
"No, you do not," She counters with a smirk.
"It's true, J," You tell him with a shrug. "You're sorta obsessed with me."
With a scoff, he just pulls you even closer to him. "And? You're my best friend; I basically own you."
"Woah!" Thor and Peter call out with wide eyes.
"Not in a weird way," Bucky clarifies, though you aren't so sure. "Sprinkle's my best friend, so I can do whatever I want to her."
"I'm not sure that's how consent works, Barnes," Wanda says with a raised brow.
"It's fine, guys, he's harmless," You assure them, before turning to him. "I know what you mean, J."
"See?" He asks the others pointedly.
"You have severe separation anxiety, man," Sam comments, standing up. "Since you met her, what's the longest you two have spent apart?"
The two of you look at each other with a frown, each trying to figure it out.
"So... met on the first day of college three years ago," He mumbles. "There was that time in second year when - no, that was only two days."
"We had that week you went to Portugal with your parents," You add. "That's probably the longest we've gone."
"Oh, that was horrible," He whines, resting his face in your neck.
"You guys even make a point to see each other during the holidays," Steve points out as he and Wanda walk over to join the rest of you. "Even Wan and I haven't spent Christmas together, yet."
"Well, maybe you don't love Wanda as much as I love sprinkle," Bucky says with a shrug, causing everyone to burst into offended groans.
"Jamie, you cannot say that!" You scold him, hitting his shoulder.
"I'm kidding," He swears between laughs, resting his free hand on your thigh.
"Prick," Steve mutters, wrapping his arm around an irritated Wanda and placing a kiss on her forehead.
"Whatever," Bucky says bluntly. "You guys are just jealous-"
Peter groans, "Oh, don't pull that card-"
"- that sprinkle and I are close," He finishes proudly. "And you virgins wish she loved you as much as she loves me."
"Virgins?" Sam repeats with a sputter. "You're one deluded son of a bitch, Barnes."
"You're such an idiot," You mumble to him between laughs, before the others continue to rip into him.
You glance up from your notes to look across the room at Bucky, who's currently playing around with your old phone.
"Having fun there?" You ask him.
He nods, "Mhm."
"Can I borrow a red pen?" Wanda requests, leaning towards you. She takes the pen from your outstretched hand before looking over at Bucky. "What are you doing, Barnes?"
"Setting up the phone," He mumbles in response.
You try to get back to work, but you can't stop staring at his concentration face. It's too damn adorable to look away from, so you carry on staring at him as he types and scrolls. A few moments later, his eyes widen and his lips part. He takes in a quick gasp before swallowing thickly. His eyes glance up at you, an unreadable glint in them.
"Buck?" You ask with a frown. "Everything okay?"
He slumps down on the couch, staring down at the phone. "Yeah. Yeah, everything is absolutely... amazing," He breathes out before biting down on his lip.
"Did you win the stock market, or whatever?" Wanda asks him with a bored tone.
Smirking, he continues scrolling. "Something like that, Wand. I've just come into some incredibly valuable goods."
"Yeah?" You ask, sitting up. "Anything interesting?"
"Ugh, no finance talk, please," Wanda begs. "I'm sick of work and I'm sick of numbers. Can we talk about something else?"
"That's a great idea," Bucky replies, sitting back. "Why don't we talk about boys?"
Snorting, you raise a brow. "You want to talk about boys with us?"
"Sure," He says with a shrug. "Let's start with you, Wan. How's Steve?"
"As I'm sure he's probably already told you in more-than-necessary detail, Steve is absolutely perfect," Wanda replies smugly.
Bucky nods slowly, before his eyes flicker over to you. "And what about you, sprinkle?"
Putting your notes to the side, you give him a smile. "Uh, there are approximately zero romantic leads in my life right now," You admit. "Why the interest?"
He keeps his eyes trained on you. "Y'ever wear lingerie for Steve, Wan? Take sexy pictures for him?"
With a look of disgust, she stands up. "Okay, you're in a pervier mood than usual, so I'm gonna go before you do or say something that Steve would beat your ass for," She states before gathering up her stuff and storming out of your apartment.
When the door slams behind her, Bucky stands up with a sigh. "Finally, am I right?"
"Don't be mean," You scold him, watching as he comes over to sit next to you. "You get me to yourself every day; it's nice to have a little girly company now and then."
"Not right now, though," Bucky says, placing his hand on your thigh as he smirks at you. "Have you ever worn lingerie for a guy?"
You think it over, resting your head on the back of the couch. "Yeah, a few times."
"And... y'ever send sexy pictures?" He pushes, leaning closer to you with a wry grin.
Narrowing your eyes, you push him back. "Stop being weird, James."
"One last question," He promises with a cocky look before lowering his voice. "Have you ever forgotten to delete those sexy pictures before giving your old phone away?"
Slowly, realization dawns on you. Surely not. Your face drops, along with you stomach, as you feel a rush of embarrassment. "What?"
Lifting up the phone, he chuckles. "Thanks for the surprise, sprinkle. These are gonna help me out so much tonight."
You immediately attempt to grab the phone out of his hand, but he stretches his arm out, making it impossible for you to reach it.
"James Barnes!" You yell, hitting his shoulder. "Give me the phone, now!"
He pushes you down onto the couch before straddling you, the cocky smirk never fading. "Oh, but I can't give up these pictures now, my little sprinkle," He claims lowly, slotting himself between your legs. "Not when you look so fuckin' sexy in them."
"Stop being such a perv, for one minute!" You cry, trying to push him off of you but failing terribly. "Those pictures aren't for you!"
Bucky pouts playfully at that, grabbing your wrists in his hand to keep you subdued. "No? Then who are they for, sprinkle?"
You say nothing, struggling against his hold.
"Who were they for?" He asks, lowering his voice as he leans closer to you. "Who'd you take these pictures for, sprinkle?"
Shaking your head, you keep your mouth shut.
"Aw, you don't wanna tell me?" He coos teasingly, letting his crotch press against yours. "But you tell me everything, bubba. I'm your best friend. Who did you send these to?"
You swallow thickly, knowing he won't let up until you tell him what he wants to know. "They... I sent them to Sam."
His face drops and he clenches his jaw. Rage clouds his eyes, making you shiver.
"It was last year," You reveal. "We just... we fooled around, a little. It was nothing serious."
"Nothing serious?" He repeats with a mutter.
"We didn't even have sex," You tell him truthfully. "It was just a little bit of fun, and it was all over the phone. Nothing in person."
"How did I not know about this?" Bucky asks you gravely.
"You were too busy with that girl that worked at the cafe," You tell him with an eye-roll. "Cathy, or whatever."
"Callie," He whispers, before raising a brow. "You were jealous, hmm? Not getting enough attention from me, so you went and got it from Sam?"
"Maybe," You mumble bitterly, before pushing his chest. "Now, will you get off me?"
"I can't, my darling sprinkle," He says with a sigh, grinding his hips against yours. "I have separation anxiety."
"Jamie-"
"Shh, baby," He hushes you softly, slowly thrusting against you. "It's alright. Don't you wanna feel good?"
Your heart is racing as your pussy throbs through your clothes, your breath hitching in your throat.
"Don't you wanna make me feel good?" Bucky adds with a smirk.
"This is- we shouldn't do this," You warn him. "We're best friends, Buck."
"Exactly," He chuckles darkly, bringing his lips to your ear. "And that means I can do whatever the fuck I want to you."
"Bucky, stop," You utter, unable to hold back the whimpers as he grinds harder. Shit, that feels good.
He lets out a low groan, bringing one of his hands to your throat. "Fuck, baby, makes me so hard when you tell me to stop," He mumbles, brushing his lips against yours. "You don't really want me to, do you?"
"Jamie," You cry out, arching your back. "I- please."
"Say it again, baby," He mutters in your ear. "Tell daddy to stop."
You feel your panties soak at his words as your eyes roll back. Weak moans escape your throat as you buck your hips up to meet his. "We- you shouldn't be doing this, daddy, stop."
He lets out a low groan, thrusting faster. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking hot," He says, before pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties. "Such a fuckin' slut, getting so wet for me."
You gasp as his fingers slip inside your entrance, opening you up for him. He curls them inside you, brushing against your sweet spot as you cry out in pleasure.
"Yes, daddy, right there!" You cry, digging your nails into his shoulder.
He thrusts his fingers in and out of you for a few more moments before pulling down his zipper and taking out his throbbing cock. It rests heavy on your thigh, making your cunt clench around his digits.
"Want daddy to fuck you, baby?" He asks you teasingly. "Want my big, fat cock inside you?"
"Daddy," You breathe out, eyes wide. "Kiss me."
With a smug smile, he complies, leaning down to press his lips against yours. The kiss is messy and hot, and he slowly brings his dick to your entrance. Just as tip inches in, you pull away from the kiss, gasping.
"Too big," You whine, shaking your head as his girth stretches you out. "Hurts, daddy."
"I don't care if it fuckin' hurts, baby, you're gonna take it all," He tells you coldly, clenching his jaw as he continues sinking into you. "You're gonna be a good little slut and take it all for your daddy."
You hold your breath as he bottoms out, his cock sitting in you and pulsing against your walls. A weak cry escapes your mouth as he slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.
"Pussy's so fuckin' tight," Bucky grunts as he lifts up your legs and folds them against your torso to fuck you deeper. "Fuck, baby, I've dreamt of this so many times."
"Jamie," You begin, running your hands through his hair. "Feels so good."
"Yeah?" He asks with a smirk. "Been wanting to rail my little girl for so fuckin' long. You know how crazy you make me?"
You do nothing but moan as he slams in and out of you, making your core burn with delight.
"Sending pictures to Wilson, as if that fucker deserves them," He rants through gritted teeth, wrapping his hand around your throat. "He couldn't fuck you this good if he tried, baby. But you're daddy's little slut, now, so he'll never get the chance."
"All yours," You promise him, feeling weak as he squeezes your neck. "Use me, daddy, I'm yours."
"Shit," He grunts, bringing his free hand down to rub your clit. "Who knew my little girl could be such a filthy whore, hmm?"
"I want..." You trail off with a squeak as he rubs your clit faster.
"Tell me, baby, what do you want?" He asks you gently. "What does daddy's little girl want, hmm?"
"Want your cum inside me," You manage to get out, feeling weak. Your mind swirls until all you can process is Bucky and the pleasure he's serving you with.
He chuckles darkly at your words, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "You'll get my cum, baby, you'll get all of it," He promises. "Gonna get you fuckin' pregnant."
Your heart skips a beat at his words and your eyes light up. That's the sexiest fucking thing you've ever heard.
"Tell me you don't want it," He orders you darkly. "Tell daddy not to fuck a baby into you."
A whimper leaves your mouth as you cup his face in your hands. "P- please, daddy, I can't get pregnant," You tell him, putting every bit of your remaining energy into the act. "Please don't cum inside me."
"You don't want to carry my child?" He asks you softly, moving his hand up from your throat to your cheek.
You shake your head, feeling your heart race. "No, daddy, I don't want to," You whimper.
"Well, that's too bad," He growls, fucking you harder. "'Cuz I'm gonna fill you up, gonna give you a baby, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"Daddy," You whine as your legs shake and your pleasure almost reaches its peak.
"That's right, baby, you're gonna make me a daddy," He tells you arrogantly. "And you're gonna be the prettiest little mommy in the world. Gonna make you my wife, gonna be mine forever."
You let out loud moans at his dark promises, feeling your orgasm arrive.
"Cum for me, mommy," Bucky orders you, slapping your clit repeatedly. "Cum, now."
Obeying him, you let go, feeling the sharp hit of pleasure as you cum all over his cock. Your pussy tightens around him, making him groan.
"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum," He tells you, slamming into you faster. "Tell me to stop. Tell daddy to stop."
"Daddy, please stop," You cry, wanting nothing more than for him to continue. "Please don't cum inside me, daddy, stop."
"Oh, fuck," He growls as he shoots his seed deep into you, moaning loudly with each thrust. "Take it, baby, every last fuckin' drop."
You shudder as you feel his cum inside you, your chest heaving with every breath you take. Bucky falls forward to rest his head in your neck, catching his breath as he strokes your hair.
"Oh, my God," He mumbles weakly. "That was fuckin' incredible."
With a deep breath, you let out a laugh. "Jamie, I.. I didn't know you were into that kind of sex," You admit, still taken aback.
"Ditto, you little freak," He chuckles between breaths, lifting his head up to look at you.
"If I knew, we'd have fucked a long time ago," You tell him honestly.
"Well, then," Bucky begins with a smirk. "I guess we have a lot to make up for."
"I guess we do," You agree with a giggle.
"Also," He begins, raising a brow. "Sam? Seriously?"
"It just happened; I wasn't expecting it either!" You exclaim. "It was like, a week of phone sex and nudes."
He narrows his eyes. "And he didn't ever try to fuck you?"
"Nope," You answer truthfully. "He was too scared of you. Said you'd never forgive him."
Bucky raises a brow at that, nodding. "He was right. Smart man."
"Tony, on the other hand-"
"Don't you dare even go there, sprinkle," He warns you coldly. "I'd rip his head off, and you don't even wanna know what I'd do to you."
"Maybe I do," You whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "What would you do to me, daddy?"
He clenches his jaw, bringing his hand up grab your chin. "I'd chain you to my bed and keep you as my baby-making machine," He tells you lowly.
"That sounds great," You tell him coyly. "I wanna be your housewife."
"Yeah?" He asks, his eyes darkening. "Wanna be my obedient little wife, cooking and cleaning for me?"
"Anything you want," You promise, playing with his hair. "S'long as you fuck me every day."
"Oh, baby," Bucky grins, kissing you deeply before pulling back. "I'm never letting you go."
"Never?" You ask with an expectant look.
"Never, my pretty little sprinkle," He promises with an arrogant smile, stroking your cheek. "I've got separation anxiety, baby."
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you don't think sharing a room with your lecturers is a big deal. not until professor rogers starts going a little too far with his sleepwalking. thankfully, professor barnes is there to talk you through it.
content warning: dark!steve x f!reader x soft!dark!bucky, age gap, somnophilia, dub/noncon, naive!reader, smut, voyeurism, booby stuff, fingering, penetrative sex, rough sex, cream pie, cockwarming.
As you lie on your side, the gentle sound of rain pattering against the window soothes you. You've never been quick to fall asleep, but the motel's lumpy mattress isn't helping. You are appreciate of Steve's warmth, though, and the fact that you don't feel uncomfortable to be sharing a bed with him at all.
When Professor Barnes invited you on this research trip, you knew you couldn't turn the opportunity down. Two weeks with two of the greatest minds in quantum physics? You had to say yes, utterly honored that they allowed you, a mere freshman barely two months into her college career, to accompany them.
Bucky was happy to take the sofa bed, where he lays now. He's still awake; you can hear him typing on his phone every so often. It's only been ten minutes since you got into bed but they did tell you Steve takes only minutes to fall into a deep sleep. They also warned you that he's prone to sleepwalking, which doesn't worry you - until you feel his arm wrap around you.
"Professor Rogers?" You whisper, turning your head to find his eyes closed as he softly snores.
"Everything alright?" Bucky asks you from the couch. The lamp by the TV is still on so you can clearly see him sitting up.
"Uh, yeah," You reply lowly. "All good."
Not convinced by your tone, Bucky stands up to check on you, his brows furrowing. "Steve sleepwalks, as we mentioned, pay it no mind," He assures you. "Try and get some sleep, flower. Big day tomorrow."
You take his advice, shutting your eyes and trying your best to relax - but then you feel Steve's hand cup your breast. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying wide open.
"Professor Barnes," You call out to Bucky, who's still standing by the couch.
"What's wrong?" He asks you, taking a step closer.
"He.... he's touching my... chest," You manage to spurt out, cringing inwardly.
Bucky tuts, slowly walking over to you. "I'm sorry about him, but you must stay calm," He tells you firmly. "You can't wake up a sleepwalker."
Steve's fingers start rubbing and pulling at your nipple, making you freeze up. "He... Professor Barnes, please stop him!" You beg him desperately.
"Shh," Bucky whispers soothingly, coming closer to where you lay. His glasses rest lowly on his nose, the pipe in his mouth letting out smoke. "Be brave, flower. It can be incredibly dangerous to wake someone while they're sleepwalking."
"I - this isn't sleepwalking," You whisper, holding back your whimpers while Steve paws at your tits.
"Ah, but it is," Bucky retorts. "Sleepwalkers don't only get up and trot around in the night. I've heard some cases where they cook and eat an entire meal while asleep, and one man even drove all the way to work. It's a dynamic ailment, flower, please be patient with him. I'm sorry, I didn't know Steve's sleepwalking could manifest in a sexual manner, but I'm sure he'll stop soon."
You bite down on your lip and hope he's right. Carefully, you try to move Steve's hands off your breasts, but he only squeezes them harder, making you squirm. Suddenly he pulls up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold air - and worse, to Bucky's eyes.
"Professor," You shudder, bringing your hands up to cover your chest.
"Just relax," Bucky says lowly, his eyes dark. "It'll be over soon."
Steve pins your left shoulder down firmly before moving his head down. You aren't sure what he's doing until you feel his lips wrap around your nipple. A whimper leaves your mouth as he sucks on your tit, conflicting feelings coursing through you. Though you're terrified and embarrassed, you also feel pangs of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.
"Remain calm, flower," Bucky utters soothingly. "Let him continue and he'll stop on his own accord. We cannot wake him."
You're slightly frustrated at his words - surely a professor forcing his way on a student, whether consciously or not, is more important than whatever danger to Steve you would be posing by waking him up? You try to push him off you, but even in slumber, he's much too strong and heavy for you to try and fight against him.
Steve's hand suddenly pushes past the hemline of your shorts and bypasses your panties. You almost squeal as his fingers plunge into you with no warning, three digits stretching your entrance. The ease with which he's able to slide in, the juices which coat his fingers, leave you incredibly ashamed.
"Professor Barnes," You cry lowly between shaky breaths. "It - he's hurting me."
"Shh, shh, shh," Bucky hushes you as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, honey, I really am, but there's nothing I can do. Try and close your eyes, think about something else."
You squeeze your eyes shut but no pleasant thoughts can distract you from Steve fucking you with his fingers. He curls and scissors them inside you, making your stomach flip. The sound of his fingers sloshing in and out of your wet cunt fill the room, and you're utterly humiliated.
Small whines and moans rush past your lips uncontrollably as Steve fingers you faster, his mouth still latched onto your hard nipple. You wince, trying not to let the pleasure take over, determined to remain professional.
"You're doing so well, flower," Bucky says as he looks your body up and down, watching as Steve violates you. "Being such a good girl, so calm."
"Please, Sir," You whimper, shaking your head. "Make him stop."
"I'm sure it won't be much longer, now," Bucky assures you, biting on his smoke pipe. "That's it, flower, stay nice and relaxed."
Your heart is beating out of your chest and it only beats harder when you feel Steve's hard cock resting against your bare thigh. Before you can move away from him, he pulls his fingers out of you and rips apart your shorts, panties and all. Your body is frozen in shock as he shoves you onto your side with a gruff grunt, and before you get the chance to realize what's about to happen and brace yourself for it, Steve pushes his entire cock into your cunt.
"Oh, my God!" You can't help but cry loudly. Hoping it's enough to wake him, you feel a sense of relief as he stops moving. There are a few moments of silence and just as you look up and meet Bucky's eyes with your tear-filled ones, Steve begins to roughly fuck you.
His hips snap against yours over and over as he mercilessly probes you with his thick cock. You could swear it feels like you're being torn apart, every inch of your skin on fire as you tightly grip onto the sheets.
"Just stay calm," Bucky says casually as he strokes your hair, watching Steve fuck you like an animal. "That's a good girl, just take it."
"Please," You whimper, crying with every hard thrust he serves you. It makes you feel even worse when the pain begins to make room for pleasure, as though you're just as animalistic and depraved as Steve's unconscious alter ego.
The springs in the mattress squeak beneath you as Steve fucks you harder and the headboard repeatedly smacks against the wall with a heavy thump. He lets out low grunts and growls into your ear, his hands keeping you pinned to the bed. A part of you doesn't believe that he's genuinely sleepwalking when you see the look in his eyes - but you remember what Bucky said. Some people can cook meals and drive cars while sleepwalking - it is so crazy to think someone could have sex while sleepwalking?
Still, though, you refuse to let Bucky know that a part of you is finding the sordid encounter enjoyable. While pleasure envelopes you and cascades down your spine, you keep on a strong face in hopes that it'll convince Bucky you can remain professional even in the most difficult and absurd situations.
"That's it, flower, you're being so good," Bucky mumbles, gently stroking your cheek. "It's almost over, I promise. Just a little longer. You're taking this all so well, being so good for us. We knew you would be."
His words confuse you for a second - did they know this was going to happen? But you shake away those thoughts. There's no way they would have let you come if they knew this was possible, you must have misunderstood him.
Steve's thrusts become quicker and harder as he fucks you into the mattress. Your legs shake and you can't believe how close you are to climaxing. You try to hold it back, refusing to orgasm in front of your professors, but when Steve suddenly begins rubbing harsh circles onto your clit while pulling and twisting your nipple, you know you have no control. With a loud cry, you cum onto his cock, your cunt squeezing around his pulsating shaft.
"That's it, good girl," Bucky mumbles, stroking your slacked jaw as your eyes roll back and your body trembles and shakes.
Steve thrusts a few more times before he cums with a grunt, filling you with his seed. You gasp at the feeling, his warm cum coating your insides, his twitching cock beating against your walls.
"You did so well," Bucky says, his own cock hard and leaking precum, threatening to burst through his pants. "You've been such a good girl tonight."
All you can let out is a weak whimper.
Bucky gives you a soft smile. "Now, get some sleep," He tells you firmly before making his way to the bathroom.
You breathe heavily, trying to process the events of the night, equally as ashamed as you are exhausted. A few moments pass and you wait for Steve to pull out and return to his side of the bed, but he remains where he is with his cock inside you, heavy arm around your body, soft snores leaving his mouth.
You try to push him off you but he only grips you tighter and even thrusts his softening cock in and out of you a few times, scaring you into remaining perfectly still for the rest of the night.
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Warnings; fluff, grief, one use of Y/N, female reader inset
Word count: probably somewhere around 1k (once again this is a quick one written in app soâŚ)
A/N- didnât know where this was going when I started it but now we are here. premise is reader didnât get to say goodbye to Peter in her own world. when she is suddenly pulled across space and time to another dimension, is she finally about to get that last kiss she always wanted.
âDo you mind if I sit here?â Peter asks as he begins pulling back the stool on the other side of the table in front of you.
Everything inside you is screaming âNo, go away, leave me aloneâ but instead you give a quiet âYeah, sure,â because youâd never be that rude.
But it had been a weird 48 hours. Magic, villains from other dimensions, Peterâs from other dimensions, including one particular Peter with fluffy hair and deep brown eyes who looked just like your best friend back home. But it wasnât him. Would never be him. He was long gone.
âYou know, you have been awfully quiet throughout this whole process.â He observes.
You know you have been quiet. You have been very quiet, acting very unlike yourself. You hadnât had a problem being yourself at all to start with. You had found Peter and his friends very quickly, assisting them with their quest to round up the villains so that they could send you all home. Had made friends with Ned and MJ, acting as a sort of older sister figure to them. But then came the incident at Happyâs apartment. Youâd gone to Nedâs house like their Peter had told you to. Then everything changed again. Then came the other Peterâs. The moment he first walked through that portal and pulled his mask off you knew you were in trouble. You needed to keep your distance. Needed to not interact. Not get attached. Pretend it didnât kill you inside to have those eyes look at you and not know who you are.
âJust⌠working away.â You say briefly and cheerily trying to make as little eye contact with him as possible.
âYouâre shaking.â He observes.
âYup, right you are again.â You say putting your pen down and breathing deeply, trying to get yourself under control. He didnât know you. This wasnât your Peter. He looked like your Peter. Sounded like your Peter. But he wasnât and in a few hours time when you had all fixed everyone, you would both go back to your respective universes and never see each other again. Youâd never see that face again. Or hear that voice. OrâŚ
âAre you okay?â
With your reality fully dawning on you, you decide to be brave. You grab his hand, that had been resting on the desk, get up and begin to pull him out of the classroom and into the corridor.
âOkayy.â He says dragging out the word as you come to a stop, dropping his hand. Your eyes tell him everything and he softens as tears begin to well in your eyes. His head drops to the floor before he gives a muttered, âsorry.â
âHe looked like you.â You are finally able to say through the lump in your throat. âMy-â you canât even say his name, your lips being sucked between your teeth as you try to compose yourself. He waits patiently in front of you, neither stepping forward to touch you or utter a single word, now aware of the impact his mere presence has on you.
After a moment of silence, unsure of what to say or do other than cry you just look at him.
âWhat do you need from me?â He asks softly.
âI didnât get to say goodbye.â You say as tears stream down your cheeks.
âOkay, well um⌠would it help if you said it to me. If you pretended I was him, I meanâŚâ he says flustered, unsure of what to say or do.
It takes you a moment to process his words but you silently nod.
âOkay, uh, okay.â He says suddenly looking around. âNot here.â He says taking your hand and pulling you down the corridor, leading you back up to the roof.
Although he may have not been your Peter, his hand felt familiar. The pressure in which he trapped your fingers with his own, holding you tight and steady as he pulled you out into the night air.
âOkay.â He says as he turns himself to face you. âUmm, whatever you need to say- or do,â he quickly adds, âjust pretend Iâm him. Okay? Whatever you need, just-â
You kiss him. It surprises him for a second but he soon wraps his arms protectively around you and kisses you back. You breathe him in deeply, as if youâre trying to use all your senses in order to commit this moment to memory.
You break the kiss, keeping your eyes closed as you step further into his arms, you hands rubbing soothingly across his back as you nuzzle your face into his chest. He holds you firmly, his hand smoothing down your hair as he holds your head closely to him. For a moment you almost forget, caught up in the fantasy of being held by your man, one last time. Rewriting that last night in your mind. No argument. No city in need of saving. No giant lizard man. Just another night, stood on the roof with your favourite guy enjoying the view.
âThank you.â You say, clearing your throat as you finally step back from him.
âUh, no worries. Anytime.â He offers with a small smile, a tiny blush to his cheeks as he looks at you.
âWe should, uh probably go back.â You say awkwardly.
âEh yes. Yes!.â He says more animated. âWe should, uh definitely do that.â He says skipping forward slightly as he moves towards the propped open door, holding it open and ushering you back inside first.
You pause as you take him in once more, âThank you, Peter.â
a/n: hey guys so i've been struggling a lot with the fact that i might have hearing loss (i'm going to the doctor next week) and as always i am projecting, but i am not 100% sure everything in this fic is accurate and for that i apologize. but it's my little passion project and i hope you enjoy <3 as always, comments and reblogs are always loved and appreciated!
warnings: hearing loss, hearing aids, tinnitus, reader struggling with being disabled, some parts are more vulnurable and don't have the reader being like overly confident in their disability, matt being soft, some suggestive behavior at the end, kissing, nicknames, pretty pg-13 honestly
word count: 3.0k
summary: your hearing aids run out of battery, and you're forced to struggle through a day of ringing ears and being deaf. matt helps, as he always does.
pairing: matt murdock x hard of hearing!reader
now playing: the lakes - taylor swift
"take me to the lakes/where all the poets went to die/i don't belong/but my beloved, neither do you."
âAre you deaf?â
âWhat?â
Youâre eighteen, home from college for the first time since fall break. Your family sits around for Thanksgiving, and there are so many people talking. Thereâs about thirteen people at this long dining room table, and they are all talking at once. Youâre sitting next to your sister, but you canât hear her well.
You know sheâs speaking, and youâre sure youâre yelling, but youâre frustrated.
âI said, are you deaf? I repeated myself like, four times!â
You feel your face flush.
âSorry, I didnât hear you. Youâre mumbling, and itâs loud in here.â
Your sister looks at you like youâre crazy.
âIâm right next to you, and Iâm not mumbling. In fact, no one is yelling, either.â
You poke your fork at your sweet potatoes and feel hot, angry tears in your eyes as you avoid everyoneâs gaze.
Your mom sits across from you, and frowns, planning to tell you to make an appointment at the student health center when you get back to campus.
She doesnât even have to. Youâve booked one by the time she says it to you.
At the student health center, they administer a hearing test, and then refer you to a specialist for further testing. You call your mom, crying and she gently comforts you, before driving to the nearest bookstore and picking up a book on hearing impairments and a copy of ASL for Dummies.
At the specialist, they do another round of tests. Your doctor tells you that you do in fact have hearing issues and that you should come back in a year for more testing, to see if your hearing gets worse. For now, you get a doctorâs note that requires all your professors to take your hearing impairment into consideration. The process for getting that applied at your university is painful, and only gets worse through your years there.
Before you get to law school, your doctor tests you again, and tells you how your hearing has been decreasing in quality in the past few years. He says that youâll need hearing aids to regulate it. You cry because you cannot afford that.
You get captioning accommodations throughout law school, as well as a note taker for certain classes that are entirely lecture based. You still try to take your own notes, but it frustrates you that suddenly you need all this help. Your own notes are incomprehensible and often miss key parts of the lecture as you sit for a few minutes trying to decipher what your professor had said a few minutes prior.
You go into corporate law after law school, choosing to stay out of court initially because you find yourself frustrated that you wouldnât be able to process all of whatâs going on due to the many voices.
You stay at this company long enough to get your hearing aids, long enough to pay your loans, and long enough to save up a good fund for your hearing aid needs.
You quit your job and get hired at Nelson, Murdock & Page as an interim while you decide what you want to do.
With your hearing aids, life isnât so frustrating anymore. You find yourself enjoying casual chatter and not worrying about processing what your friends are saying. At family dinners, you take your hearing aids out when youâre mad at your family, to which your stepdad, another hearing aid user, always laughs.
And, despite the pay not being stellar at your job, you love it. You love working with people who need help, love fighting injustice, and you love your coworkers.
...
If only Matt Murdock would reciprocate your feelings towards him.
Youâve been dancing this dance for months. You come into work with coffee and stutter when you get to his doorway.
You wonder if heâll ever know how desperately you want him.
You go about your days quietly, going to the bar with them at the end of a long week. You love your friends and find yourself hoping they know how much you love them.
Karen and Foggy, as well as Foggyâs fiancĂŠ, know about your hearing aids since they sit sort of clunkily on your ears.
You donât tell Matt, though, not at first.
You know how bad it is, to not even tell your blind crush that you have hearing aids. But youâre embarrassed. It makes you sound like an old person even though youâre in your twenties.
But when Matt crawls into your window late at night, bleeding, you donât even flinch as he crashes onto your floor behind you. Youâre reading, your hearing aids out, and heâs unsure why you canât hear him. Your heartbeat had no reaction, itâs like you donât even realize heâs there.
He taps you on your shoulder and you turn quickly, and gasp, before starting to sign at him. Even in his disoriented state, he knows youâre doing something with your hands and moving your mouth. At first, he thinks that he might have stuff clogging his ears, but then he realizes youâre signing, probably because you think Daredevil isnât blind.
He takes off his helmet.
âMatt?â You say, and it comes out a little louder than it should, because you canât hear yourself to gage how loud youâre being.
He says something, and your gaze focuses on his mouth, where you can barely make out what heâs saying.
âI canât hear you.â You say, softer now. You reach over to your bedside table and put your hearing aids on. By the time you look back, Matt has passed out on the ground. Oh fuck.
You get your first aid kit and begin to work on his wounds. When youâre done, you pull him onto your couch, now stained with his blood, and watch as he sleeps. Blood covers your hands, and you listen to him breathing.
When he wakes up that morning, youâre asleep on the couch, and when you feel him start to stir. You grab your hearing aids, and turn them on, before watching him wake.
He says your name softly, and you take his hand in yours.
âHey.. You.. Youâre Daredevil...â
âYouâre deaf.â
âHard of hearing. Not fully deaf, just⌠My right ear is a lot better than my left, but without my hearing aids Iâm close to deaf, yeahâŚâ
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âWhy didnât you tell me you were Daredevil?â
âI was scared. Scared that⌠That you would view me differently, scared that you wouldnât like me as much.â
âI was scared too..â
âWhen did you start losing your hearing?â
âIn college. I realized it when I went home for Thanksgiving, and then it got worse from there..â You tell him. A hand reaches out to your face, and you lean into it, letting your cheek rest in his palm. His fingers trail up towards your ear and gently run his fingers over your hearing aid.
âThanks for stitching me up.â He says softly.
âNo problem.â
âThe hearing aid does explain the buzzing I always hear when youâre around.â
âYou can hear my hearing aids?â
âApparently. I can hear a lot of things. I have heightened senses. You use pomegranate shampoo and had red velvet cake for dessert tonight. Your heart is racing.â
Your face flushes.
âI can turn them off if itâs bothering you.â
âHow would you hear me, then?â He has a point.
âI just donât want them to bother you.â
âDonât offer to hide your disability just to make other people more comfortable.â
You kiss him when he says this, in a careful way. Youâre gentle, making sure not to hurt him as you do. He lays there and lets you kiss him, his hands on your face. You realize you had no reason to be scared that Matt might reject you for your disability, because he is the only person in your everyday life who really gets how it is to have a disability that affects all aspects of your life.
You trace the healed scars on his skin as you kiss him gently, careful not to hurt him. You promise that youâll kiss him more passionately when he isnât freshly stitched up.
â˘Â â˘Â â˘
A few weeks passed after that night. You and Matt start seeing each other more and more as you fall deeper in love. You find it silly that you wasted so many days, afraid of talking to each other and maybe disappointing each other over the fact that you both lack a vital sense.
But Matt never views it that way. You wear hearing aids and itâs perfectly fine because most of the time, you arenât struggling to hear him and cannot communicate with him, and he canât see when you canât hear him.
Instead, Matt loves that he can hear your hearing aids buzzing softly because it always alerts him that youâre there. He can hear your heartbeat and smell you, too, but itâs not quite the same as this soft little buzzing that reminds him often of a bee.
Except for this one day.
You slept over at Mattâs on a Thursday and really, you should have known better. You knew your hearing aids were going to need a battery change soon, but youâve been so busy with work and with Matt, and worrying about him at night, that youâre tired. So tired that you forget to pick up batteries before your hearing aids die.
You sneak out of Mattâs apartment early, sending him a text that you needed to go get changed before work. Really, you want to avoid the fact that you wouldnât be able to hear him. But he didnât respond to your message. You decide that you donât care at this moment and head out to work, debating the right way to tell your coworkers about your predicament.
When you get to work, Foggy is immediately talking to you, and you are tense.
âFoggyââ Heâs not stopping. It sounds like heâs mumbling, and thereâs this ringing in your ears. âFoggy, I canât hear you.â He finally looks to you, and says something, you make it out to be a phrase of confusion. âMy hearing aids died.â You tell him. Youâre frustrated, and Matt isnât in the office yet.
You deem this as a blessing and a curse. Foggy goes to tell Karen whatâs going on and as youâre settling down for the day, you get a text. You hope itâs from Matt, but when you see Karenâs name, you falter slightly.
âHey! Foggy told me what was going on. Weâll have your calls redirected to one of us and you can spend the day doing housekeeping and paperwork.â
âThanksâ, You respond, âSorry about all this. Iâm usually on top of my battery life.â
âDonât worry about it. These things happen.â
âStill, thanks. Did you hear from Matt at all?â
âNo, he probably just slept in late. He should be in soon.â
You try to ignore your anxieties over his absence even though you know that when he does come into the office, youâll have to struggle to communicate with him all day.
So, for the first hour or so of your day, you try to get some work done but thereâs a light ringing in your ears thatâs getting worse and worse as you attempt to try and focus on other things. Everything sounds so muffled. Youâre so focused that your teeth grind against each other, your muscles tense, as you attempt to try and block out the ringing in your ears.
You have a feeling that by the time you leave today, those hot frustrated tears will be threatening to pour once more.
You donât hear Matt as he steps into your office and stands by your left side, where youâre almost completely deaf. He stands there for about ten minutes, trying to get your attention before he realizes the light buzzing of your hearing aids are not there.
You must not have them in.
So his hands find your shoulders gently, and instead of tensing, you actually relax under his touch, because you realize that it has to be Matt. A slight turning of your head confirms it and you lean into his touch.
Neither of you say much for a while, deciding to let your frustration slowly dissipate as you lean into his warm hands. They stay on your shoulders and upper arms, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin.
After a good ten minutes of this, his body shifts to your right side and he leans down, before speaking at full volume, maybe even a little louder, just to make sure you can hear him. It still sounds like heâs mumbling, but you can hear him.
âForgot your hearing aids?â
âBatteries died.â You tell him. âYou never answered me.â
âMy phone died. I forgot my charger, too.. Are you gonna be okay to work all day?â
âMhm..â You smile softly, âYouâre gonna have to help answer calls, though.â
He kisses your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.
âAnything for you, sweetheart.â He says, a soft smile on his face.
The day goes by pretty much as you expect it. You spend it doing paperwork and dodging phone calls, your tinnitus gets worse as the day goes on. By the time the day is finally winding down, Karen sends you one final text.
âMattâs staying a little late to catch up on some work. Want me to walk you home?â
âNo, Iâll be fine. Thank you.â
You realize that because she and Foggy are heading home, youâll be able to sit with Matt, maybe get a little bit of peace. Youâre thankful, too, because youâre about to lose your mind over all of this. The ringing is just getting to be too much.
You wait a few minutes after Foggy and Karen head home before you go into Mattâs office. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come in, and you do. You lean against his desk, as he speaks loud enough now that you can hear him.
âIâll just be a few more minutes, Bee.â Even the soft-spoken nickname doesn't get you out of your funk, too busy wanting to get on your hands and knees and beg God for your hearing back.
That doesnât usually happen, but every once in a while you ask him for a normal life.
God sends you a blind man as your soulmate, because he must think that the whole thing is quite funny.
âOkayâŚâ
You feel hot tears pooling in your eyes as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your skin. You almost draw blood.
âWhatâs wrong?â He can tell that something is wrong. He can always tell, and youâre foolish to think anything less of him, and even more foolish to forget his super senses. A part of you bites back a bitter feeling, since you wish you couldâve had super smell, super sight, super taste, anything in exchange for your hearing. You were not given an exchange, only forced to give, with nothing in there for you.
You forget that your boyfriend has super senses and can taste and smell your salty tears and blood in the air. Damn him.
âLoud⌠Ringing in my ears, my tinnitus is always really bad when I donât use my hearing aids for a while..â You say softly. âItâs just.. it really hurts...â You confess, tears slipping down your face.
âSweetheart..â He takes off his glasses and rests them on the desk in front of him. âCâmere..â You canât hear that last part, but the way he opens his arms gives you the hint.
You sit on his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck with a shaky sigh. You feel the thumps of his heartbeat and hold onto it, the ringing in your ears slightly muffled by his skin. It doesnât fix the problem, but it helps.
His hands linger on your body, gentle caresses of your knee or thigh happening here and there. He just wants you to know heâs there, in the same way he desires when everything becomes too much for him.
ââm sorry..â you say gently, and he just hushes you softly, kissing your head. He traces patterns into your skin. He traces words into it as well.
L-O-V-E.
S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T
He traces your name, his, and your last names.
You kiss him softly, realizing that you might never be 100% okay with your hearing, but Matt will help. Heâll understand. He loves you, and itâs enough to be confident in your future again.
You spend only a few minutes more in the office before you decide to head home, his hand never leaving yours.
You make it back to his apartment and Matt plugs his phone in in case you need to text him and get his attention. You wind up stealing a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. The two of you wind up tangled together on his couch.
Your ear is pressed against his chest as he gently caresses your skin, occasionally moving your hair from your face. He mumbles sweet nothings, and while you canât hear them, you feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest, and you relish in them. You bathe in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping against his skin.
You fall asleep like this, with Matt touching you and talking in this low tone to make sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat. Itâs enough just knowing heâs there. That this thing you thought would deem you unlovable is no match for Matt Murdock, who on your wedding day will throw up the sign for âI love youâ in ASL.
For Matt Murdock, who, when youâre taken for loving the devil, will find you and take you into his arms and kiss you so that you know heâs real.
For Matt Murdock, who touches you in all the right ways so you can hear the sounds of your own pleasure.
For Matt Murdock, who will gently trace patterns into your skin when you need to be grounded. For Matt Murdock, who feels himself slipping further and further in love with you and finds himself searching for the soft buzz of your hearing aids when you walk into the room.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary:Â Between your home life and work, you just can't catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.
Characters:Â Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner
Note: Hope yall like this one!
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iâm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenât forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. đ
Everyone knows to keep their head down when Mr. Hansen walks through the department. As often as he already has a gripe in his belly, he is just as likely to be looking for a victim to accost. You keep your head down as you sense him trawling the bullpen, his figure a speck at the corner of your eye.
You keep an ear pricked, call it paranoia, but you've witnessed the sort of suffering he can rain down on the unexpecting. You browse the spreadsheet, carefully inputting numbers cell by cell. You withhold a sigh, not wanting to give away any clue of your existence.
"Kendra," he leans on the blonde's desk, his other hand on his hip, "pretty nameâŚ"
She thanks him. The new girl is always his favourite novelty. It's these moments that make you even more thankful for the obscurity that comes with age. And more disgusted by the unchanging behaviour of creepy men.
"There's this conference next month, good experience for a temp," he offers, "what about it, sweetheart?"
If it was any other man, you might clear your throat to let him know you can hear him. To remind him of professionalism. Too dangerous. You feel a twinge of pain at letting the twentysomething flounder against his undeniable proposal.
"Far away so⌠we'd have to fly out," he continues and you shift in your chair unthinkingly. You can't help it, you've been there, you've had to smile and fawn, to pretend your skin isn't crawling. "...pack something pretty."
Your elbow hits your pen and it rolls off the edge of your desk. You wheel back to grab and dare a peek over at Mr. Hansen in his predatory posturing. His eyes are drawn to you and he squints as he rolls his tongue behind his lower lip. Shit.
You sit up quickly, repressing a groan at the pang in your lower back, and roll up to your desk. You cradle your face, hiding behind your hand as you scroll and pretend to be enraptured by your screen. You doubt you're enough to distract him from the beautiful blonde.
"They got room service up in Gaines," he continues, "think about it."
He taps two fingers on her desk as he pushes off. You expect him to strut back to his office but continues his walk of the floor. You shrink down and curl your shoulders, looking at your cold coffee in desperation. A good excuse to get away from your desk but you can already hear him rebuking you for getting up just for another cup.
You click to the next sheet in the file as he nears. You stiffen as he comes behind you, holding your breath as you wait for him to pass. You feel him pause and hear the subtle scuff of his sole. You nearly jump as he puts his hands on your shoulders.
He leans in, his overpriced cologne tickling at the migraine in the back of your brain. You select a cell and pull up a report for comparison. He watches you work without a word, hands firmly on your cardigan.
He shoves away suddenly and claps his hand as he twists on his heel.
"Alright team, back to work," he demands as if the whole floor must be rapt by his presence, "no fucking around."
You let out a breath of relief. You glance over at Kendra as she gives a cringe at his back. You want to commiserate but you'd hate to make her feel more awkward.
You wait until you're certain Hansen is in his office and take your half-finished coffee to the kitchen. You rinse it out and dry it before placing it on the tray of the machine. You put a pod in and select the size, standing back with crossed arms to watch it brew.
You hear someone behind you but don't look over. The shadow approaches the fridge and pulls it open, taking out a container seemingly at random. You turn your head and blanch at Mr. Hansen as he cracks the communal carton of milk meant for coffee and drinks directly from it. You try not to show your disgust.
"Morning," he swipes the back of his hand across his mustache, "want some?"
He offers the carton as you grab your mug and shake your head, "no, thank you, sir."
"On a diet? Keeping the dairy low?" He wonders before taking another gulp then looks at the label. "Ugh, who the fuck ordered skim?"Â
You muster an awkward smile. You've never been good at office politics, you don't pander, you just mind your business and so your work. A good day is when no one bothers you.
He puts the carton back without closing it. You retreat slowly, realising he's between you and the door. You try to sidle past as he reaches into the fridge again. He steps back, nearly into your path and examines the tupperware. You stop short as you recognise the worn teal lid; it's your leftovers from the night before, your name clearly labelled on the top.
"Huh," he peels back the lid and smells the chili, "smells delishâŚ" he dips his fingers to your shock and sucks it off shamelessly, "hell of a cook." He says, a tinge of red in his mustache.
"Uh, thanks, I shouldâ"
"You should?" He arches a brow, "you should⌠keep your nose out of my conversations and focus on your own work, right?"
"I don't know what you meanâ"
"I saw you. Squirming like a caterpillar," he snaps the lid back into place and tosses the whole container on the bin beside the fridge, "look, I know at your age, thereâs not much excitement but it doesn't mean you needa eavesdrop on matters that don't concern you."
"I didn'tâ"
"I get it, you're jealous, your ass blew up after the kids and your husband hasn't looked at you in yearsâ"
"Sir," you say affronted but more stung by the accuracy, "please, I wasn'tâ"
"Oh, yes, you weren't listening because you have a deadline," he steps closer and wraps his hand around your mug. He wiggles it free of your grasp and you let him, "I moved the budget review to tomorrow morning soâŚ" he pauses and swigs the coffee while snapping his fingers with his other hand, "snap, snap on those expense reports."
You stand, stunned and shamed. He spins nonchalantly and strides out, still sipping your fresh coffee. You let your head fall back and groan. Not only are you out the extra caffeine boost but you have to call the babysitter.
đď¸
You don't mourn your lunch as you likely wouldn't have the time to eat. You spend it outside, below the awning of the building as rain pours over the edge. You have your phone in hand and a needling in your skull. This sort of weather always gives you a headache.
On the fifth try, Pete picks up and you swallow a sigh, "hey," you say abruptly, checking your watch.
"Hey, what's up? I had to leave a meeting," he hisses low, out of breath.
"I'm sorry, I just need to know what time you're expecting to be home. The sitter can only stay until seven but I have to stay lateâ"
"Late? Honey, you know I can't guarantee I'll be there. I'm working my ass off tryna get this thing off the ground. Grindingâ"
"I know, I know, but we could use the overtime and⌠I don't really have a choice."
"Can't you do tomorrow?"
"Pete, it's one nightâ"
"One night? It's a call I'm not makingâ"
"Please," you beg, "we need the money, you know we do."
He puffs and blows a raspberry, "shoulda told that sitter to stick aroundâŚ" he grumbles.
"We can't even afford to pay her for the extra," you mutter.
"I fucking knowâ"
"Don't swear at me," you warn, "if you hadn't bought that damn corvetteâ"
"Not doing this again. I'll be home at seven. Happy?"
You roll your eyes, "yeah," you lie. Happy, no, that's not something you feel anymore.
"Pete," a female voice purrs and he hushes them.
"Got it, Anita," he clears his throat, "tell them I'm on my way back."
"Sorry to keep you," you chew your lip, "I'll let you go."
"Sure," he scoffs.
"See ya tonight," you soften your tone, "love ya."
Click. The call ends and you're left dangling. You pull your phone away and look at the screen. No point in using up the last of your break, you might as well just go back to your desk.
đď¸
Your vision glosses as you stare at the messily painted portrait of a house and tree. The sitter sent a picture of Simone's latest artwork and tugs on your impatience to get out of there. You wish you could be there to pick up your kids and hear all about their day.Â
Most times you spend the hours after work cooking, cleaning, and trying to rein them in. You're not fun like Emma, their sitter, you're always the voice of reason, the strict ruler of discipline. You send back a heart and black the screen.
Another person packs up for the day, once more tightening the chain that attaches you to your desk. You lean forward, your head pulsing as the brim of your vision blurs. The advil did nothing against your migraine.
You hold your forehead as you squint at the numbers. This is going to take forever. Pushing a budget meeting up one week surely is a personal attack. You need to work on your poker face, you can't do this again. You're too old and tired.
You yawn and fight to keep your eyes open. Maybe Pete can do bath time. You almost snort at that. Right, and hippos are bright pink and friendly.
You shake your head and lean back, trying to stretch out the kinks. You hear the elevator. Eventually you'll get there.Â
You look around, realising the desolation of your predicament. Not too many people left, at least not those without offices. You roll each ankle, arches achy just from your low heels.
Your phone buzzes and you ignore it. It's six-thirty. You let it go to voicemail and save your file for good measure.
You think of having another coffee but that will only make your head throb and your night sleepless. Well, more than usual.Â
Your cell starts to jitter again. You're agitated as you snatch it up. It's 7:03. Emma's number greets you in blaring white digits. Dammit, you already know what's going on.
You answer, saving again as you wheel the chair back and reach into the drawer to fish out your purse. You keep the phone to your ear as you say 'hi' and struggle to get your jacket on. Pete!
"Hi, um, I'm still waiting for someone to show upâ"
"I'm so sorry, Em," you shut off the monitor without bothering to boot down, "Pete said he'd be there. I'm on my way now."
You step around your chair, nearly tripping over it and push it in behind you. You rush across the office in a clomping gait, half-running as you weigh coming in at 4am and convincing security to let you up early. You continue to apologise to Emma as you promise to be home as soon as you can.
You hang up and dial Pete. As you near the elevator, his voicemail plays and you sneer, hitting end and dialing out again. You poke the down button several times and wait for an answer.
"Pick up!" You growl to no one.
"All done for the night?" A lilting taunt brings you around to face Mr. Hansen as he runs a small comb through his mustache, "you work fast."
"Mr. Hansen, I⌠I have an emergencyâ"
"Ah, so you're not done," he tuts, "I figured you'd be used to working fast. I'm sure the old man only last about five seconds, huh?"
"Sir," you bite back your offence, "my kidsâ"
"Aw, mommy's running late for supper. Let me guess, the dead beat can't even boil water."
You want to shriek. Can this man not shut up? This day just won't end and it's really all his fault. You're welling up and about to explode.
"Please," you utter.
"Oh, come on, you got exactly what you wanted, didn't you? Kids, a husband, the whole nine yards," he tucks the comb into his front pocket, "didn't anyone ever tell you they stop fucking you once you pop at a couple watermelons?"
You gulp. What is happening? Your throat tightens up and your eyes glaze. It shouldn't bother you, he's a gross old pervert but what are you? A bitter and sad old woman.
"You're not going to cry, are you? A strong working lady like yourself? Nah, you can hold it in, for the kids. You got a daughter don't ya, you wouldn't want her to see you breakâ"
You take a step towards him and stop yourself, palm itching to smack him. You raise your chin and bat your lashes.Â
"I'll finish the reports at home. I need to go take care of me kids," you fight to keep your voice steady.
"That's the thing about you moms, always the martyr, always looking for special treatment cause you let a guy drop a load indoors," he sneers, "and you're just gonna raise a couple of brats to go off and live the same boring lives."
"Stop," you croak.
"If you're gonna cry, just do it," he goads, "huh, maybe it's menopause kicking in early? All that stressâ"
"Good night, Mr. Hansen," you say curtly and face the elevator just as the doors slide apart, "I'll have the numbers done. I promise."
"Oh, I know you will," he snickers, "but you still owe me. For being such an understanding boss, you know?"
You turn around and grimace in confusion. Owe him? He winks and smirks back, "say hi to the kiddos for me."
The doors shut and you close your eyes, hanging your head in defeat. You're going to be up all night, less than ready for the review and certainly unprepared for Mr. Hansen. You can only hope by then he finds a new target.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary:Â Between your home life and work, you just canât catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.
Characters:Â Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner
Note: The reblogs and my comments await your wrath.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iâm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenât forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. đ
Your turn to present comes and you stand up at the board, your budget projected as the bulb nearly blinds you. You point to the numbers and the accompanying graphs, going over each as best as you can. Your life might be an utter and complete mess but you know numbers. Your job is simple as simple gets and you can go over this ad nauseam.
Still, your focus is splintered as you find yourself stalling here and there. Each time you meet Mr Hansen's sparkling blue eyes, you nearly swallow your own tongue. You can't help but think of what you did in his office. Of what Pete would say when found out. And he will because you've never been a good liar and this isn't a secret you can keep. You just don't know how to say it.
He won't care that you were in a bind, that you were disgusted by yourself, that you didn't want to do it. You still did it. You betrayed your marriage. Even if it is a bit rocky, you made a vow. Despite the friction, you love Pete. You wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. It's just a rocky patch. Or it was, until this.
Your eyes linger on Hansen as he leans back in his chair and lets his gaze drift towards his lap. You gulp and look to the board, pointing out the projection as you finish up. You wallow in a momentary silence before you retreat and reclaim your seat at the conference table. You were absolutely certain to be as far from him as possible, though that was easy as all the executives cluster together.
You keep your attention at the front of the room. These things are always dull. You're not high up enough to care about more than your own piece in the puzzle. You don't make the big decisions, you just show what's there.Â
You sip from your cold coffee. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Not now. You ignore it and tap your fingers on the table.
You glance around and once more find Hansenâs attention on you. He should be more concerned with the marketing presentation going on. You hide any tinge of emotion; irritation, confusion, humiliation, a peer up at the front.
The meeting ends just as you catch yourself nodding off. You shuffle out with the rest of the bodies and find your desk, nearly keeling over as you sit. You got what, an hour's sleep. You don't know if you can make it through.
Your phone goes off again. Great, what is it now? You really can't handle anything else today. Your morning has already drained you of everything you have left.
Shit, it's the school. You get up and answer your phone, marching between desks to find a quiet place. You dip down towards an empty meeting room and shut yourself in. The secretary tells you Malik got sick in gym class. Today? You sigh and promise you'll be there as soon as you can.
You put your hand to your forehead and yawn as you hang up. If you have any more caffeine, you're going to explode. You just need to get through it. You always do. Not for you, for the kids. That's what it's about.
You turn and find the door open, a figure against the frame. You could like and say you're surprised but you know Mr. Hansen isn't the type to let you sink in shame. He wants to rub it in.
"You know, I didn't think witches were real but you got magic hands, toots--"
"Sir," you fight to keep your voice even, "I just got a call from my kids' school--"
"Ew, let's not with the kids," he flicks his fingers dismissively, "I'm talking about us."
"Us?" You frown, "sir, please, I have to--"
"That husband of yours, he's lucky. Is that from practice or are you just that desperate to get your hands on some prime meat?"
You give him a look, the kind you give when you're trying not to yell. As a point, you don't raise your voice. He gives a shiver as if shaking off a chill.
"I'm teasing. I'm just... let's turn this thing around, honey. You got your budget, I got... off. And now we can get along. So, let me be a nice guy and say, go, get your kid, be a good mommy, and be back bright and early tomorrow."
You stutter. You don't quite believe him. It feels like a test. A trap. He smirks and lets his hand wander down his stomach. He grips himself through his pants.
"Unless, you want more--"
"I really have to go," you squeeze your phone, "my son--"
"Alright, alright, ugh, boring," he sneers, "I don't wanna hear about the kids."
"Um, okay," you near him, "thank you, Mr. Hansen."
"Yeah yeah," he backs out of the doorway, "don't stress it." He steps aside as you go into the hallway, "unclench a little."
As you turn, you stumble, a sudden clap against your ass throwing you off balance. You steady yourself but don't look back as he retracts his hand. Your eyes are wide, your steps stiff and stunted as you tell yourself to just keep going.
Shit, this is a problem.
Your job is stressful enough. The last thing you ever wanted was to be Hansenâs next target. Itâs not something you ever worried about. Youâre too old, too flabby, and too worn out. When he realises that, heâll be back to the likes of Kendra. You donât know who you should pity more; yourself or her.
You don't have capacity right now. One thing at a time. Get Malik home, then you can figure out how exactly your life is going to implode.
đď¸
You get Malik on the couch, bundled up watching his favourite cartoons, as you sit and stare at your phone. You know that even if you called, Pete wouldn't pick up. He's too busy for you. Still, your anxiety eats away at you and makes you impatient. You can't even enjoy the time away from the office.
You make some soup once your son's stomach settles but yours is in worse shape. You don't have an appetite, you're restless and exhausted. You're in pieces.
You know you can't go back and change things. Hell, you couldn't have done anything different. You have a mortgage, insurance, and children to look after. You can't throw it all away on one man's ego.
Still, you did something wrong. Something unforgivable. If you think Pete hates you now, he's going to despise you. And you might just lose everything anyway.
You sit and bend over, holding your head. God, you're stupid and weak and awful. You chose this, a family, a man who doesn't care, and a job that gives you nothing but stress. You could've had a better life and never inflicted your mistake on anyone else.
"Mommy," Malik taps your shoulder, startling so you sit up too fast, nearly falling out of the chair, "mommy, the stove."
You look over at the pot boils over, hissing and bubbling. Great, now you've burnt the chicken noodle. You get up and quickly flip off the burner and move the pot to the next one.
"How about some vegetable soup, huh?" You offer, "sorry, Mal."
"Are you okay, mommy?" He pouts as he stands in his dinosaur pajamas.
"Yeah, yeah, mom's just tired," you answer, "go sit down. I'll clean this up. Then it should be time to go pick up Simone."
He mumbles and leaves you. You look at the burnt soup, curdled and filmy and black around the edges. Usually, you just want Pete home but tonight, you don't know what you're going to do when he gets in. You can be sure it'll be a sleepless night.
đď¸
You spend the evening avoiding your phone. It's easy. You sit and help Simone with her homework as Malik colours at the other side of the table. After dinner you get them washed up and in their pajamas in time for bed.
You canât help but try to suck up every second. You donât want to lose this. It can be hard, Peteâs long hours, your sore hips, the childrenâs antics. It can be utterly defeating but you donât want to lose it all. Maybe you shouldâve tried sooner to fix things, maybe if you did, Pete might believe you didnât want to do what you did.
Once the kids are asleep, you're left to yourself but not really. You clean the kitchen and get lunches packed for the next day. You switch the laundry before you head up to bed but leave the light on as you lay down.Â
Itâs a mirror of the night before, except youâre not the one with your tail between your legs. Pete gets home as late as ever. You want to be mad that he's only there on weekends to see the kids. Yet, you don't see much of him then either.
He comes upstairs, pushing back his hair as he enters, blanching as he sees you awake. His face falls and he runs his fingers around his stubbly lips. You don't say anything as he loosens his tie and sighs.
"Please, I don't wanna argue tonight," he says as he sheds his blazer, "it's been a long day."
"Alright," you agree, fighting not to squirm as your stomach flips. "But⌠I wanna talk about something."
"Look, we're almost there. The hard part's almost over," he explains as he unbuttons his shirt, "we're about to hit oil with this thing."
"I know, but⌠there's something we need to talk aboutâ"
He closes his eyes and hangs his head back as he peels off his shirt. He's in good shape still. You suppose making your own hours gives you a lot of time for the gym.
"Can I take a shower first?" He huffs.
"Sure," you murmur. He's trying to wait you out, hoping you fall asleep before he's done. "Take a shower."
His brows rise and fall and he turns away as he digs in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in, leaving it face down on the dresser. He unclasps the gold chain around his wrist and puts it in the jewelry tray with his watch. You watch his hands.
"Where's your ring?" You ask as you focus on his fingers.
"Oh, uh, fuck," he sniffs, "must've left it in my gym bag again."
"Mmm," you him and don't comment further.Â
You look down at your own band, twisting it on your finger as your inside rot with guilt. You have to face this. You have to be honest. As much as it hurts you. As much as it'll hurt you.
He moves around the room. He misses the hamper again, this time his underwear fall on the floor. You want to cry as more than just the weight of your confession crushes you. Itâs all of it. The years of distance between you, the memory of good days far behind, what youâll never have again.
The bathroom door shuts and you look up again. You get up, needing to walk off the excess energy. You pace in circles and wring your hands. You want to rehearse what you should say but you got nothing.Â
You hear the subtle buzz and pause. You go back to the bed and take your phone off the night table. Nothing. Not even a notification for that dumb matching game you played once while waiting at the doctor's office.
You set it back down and go back to your aimless circling. You hear it again and again. It's annoying. Tweaking your already addled nerves.Â
You look around and see Pete's phone, the edges limned in the glow of the overturned screen. You cross the room and flip it over to turn the volume down. You stop as the newest message pops across the top.
'Hey babe, can't wait for Saturday. Bikini or no suit at all?'Â
You read it once, twice, several times before your shock fully sets in. What? Your heart drops as you put his phone back as you found it and back away.Â
You sit on the bed and stare at the bathroom door. Things can always get worse, that's your bitter mantra. You swallow as your eyes brim with tears and your throat locks up. You listen to the showerhead buzz.
You were prepared to be the bad guy. To lay yourself bare and plead mercy. You psyched yourself up to face the music but you're unprepared for this.Â
You get up and turn off the lamp. You get into bed and face away from the bathroom, just like most nights. You pull the blanket to your shoulders and close your eyes. You measure your breaths to keep from crying. Once you start, you won't be able to stop.
When Pete finishes, you're still awake. Sleep? That's a joke. You just lay there and listen to him move around. When he comes to bed, he doesn't try to talk to you or wake you up.
You open your eyes and see the glow of his phone outlining your silhouette against the wall. You gulp, careful not to give yourself away. He groans and he types away on his phone. Right beside you⌠like you don't exist. You're just an afterthought for him. Just like your vows. Just like the kids.
As low as you thought you were that morning, youâve sunk even further. Would he even care if he knew? Youâre so unlovable, he probably wouldnât even believe another man would let you touch them.
Pairing: Dark!Step-Brother!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader
Summary: Your stepbrother would do anything for you. And heâs more than happy to prove that over and over and over again until you believe him. No matter what it takes.Â
Warnings: Language, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, Sex between Step-siblings, bit of a size kink,Â
Word Count: 3.7K
A/n: I have many parts of this planned but not written, and the taglist is open. Also, incase yâall forgot: I donât talk politics on my blog. Iâve made it clear where I stand on certain things already and I want to keep my blog as an escape from reality for myself and others.Â
A/n 2: Iâm fucking tired so Iâll reply to asks and stuff probably tomorrow
!!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT! 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!
~*~
âHey, did (Y/n) get a new skirt?â At the sound of your name being mentioned, Steve snaps his head up, following his best friendâs gaze until it finally lands on you.
Youâre walking across the campus courtyard towards the two of them, a smile on your face as you talk animatedly with Natasha and Wanda.
Sure enough, a new mini skirt is decorating your pretty legs. It flows with the breeze, almost getting blown up enough to see your panties.
âJesus, that kidâs got some legs,â Bucky says, eyes roaming over your figure. Steve shoves his friendâs shoulder, giving him a hard glare.
âThatâs my fucking sister youâre talking about. What would Nat think if she heard that?â Bucky rolls his eyes, grinning as his favourite redhead blows him a kiss.
âGod, what I wouldnât do to have those legs wrapped around my head.â You shudder in disgust, yelping as a hard hand comes down on your ass.
âHey!â You exclaim, turning around and covering your butt while looking at the man.
âCâmon sweetheart. Whatâd you expect when youâre dressed like that?â
