[mycomfortstuff]

Hi :)

This blog is for any and all hyper-fixations/minor interest. Could be LITERALLY anything at any time, I am simply an og fangirl at heart :)

Minors pls do not interact! I am an ADULT and will be posting/reblogging adult content, you are NOT welcome in this space!

[idkyetxoxo]

Little Star | Azriel | Series Masterlist

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Summary - Rhysand’s sister—the little star of the Night Court. Beloved. Brilliant. Until Rhys went Under the Mountain… and she stopped burning. Bit by bit, she let herself be reduced, forgetting how to shine. Believing love meant pain, and healing was for other people.

But Azriel? He sees all of it. Always has, always will. And all he wants is for her to let him love her.

A story of a girl who lost herself, and the male who would burn the world to bring her back. Of the family who never stopped loving her, and the Shadowsinger who would wait a thousand years more if she asked.

Tags - slow burn, friends to lovers, healing, found family, yearning so intense it hurts, saved and saving.

Contents -

☆ One | The Calm Before the Storm | 2.9k words

☆ Two | How the Star Faded | 2.9k words

☆ Three | Where Smoke Lingered | 2.2k words

☆ Four | Falling Awake | 2.7k words

☆ Five | Breathing Room | 2.9k words

☆ Six | A Light to Follow Home | 2.5k words

☆ Seven | The Hurt We Carry | 2.4k words

☆ Eight | A Heart Laid Bare | 2.1k words

☆ Nine | Beneath the Silence | 2k words

☆ Ten | The Cost of Loving Her | 2.1k words

☆ Eleven | Ignite Me | 2.7k words

☆ Twelve | A Soft Return | 2.7k words

☆ Thirteen | Until You | 2k words

☆ Fourteen | A Thousand More | 2.3k words

☆ Fifteen | Written Among the Stars | 2.8k words

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - This series will include content warnings at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing. I'm so excited to finally share this—I already have a few parts written, so it’s just a matter of editing and posting from here on out.

I haven't written for ACOTAR before, so I appreciate any and every thought. Please don’t hesitate to like, comment, or reblog along the way, it truly means the world to me. <3

[mycomfortstuff]

And what about x reader fanfic hmm? What is SOOOOO cringy about fantasy and wanting to imagine my life in a different universe HMM?????

I’m tired of the x reader slander it is NOT tolerated on this blog.

[mycomfortstuff]

Okay actual discussion about TADC

SPOILERS BELOW

Starting off so incredibly strong with TRANSFEM LESBIAN JAX BEING REAL ARE WE KIDDING.

The theory of Pomni being an abandon building exploring youtuber being right was so satisfying I loved seeing that.

Zooble and gangle getting to be full blown lovers is 10/10 I love that for them.

Ragatha getting her justice and love as she deserved was chefs kiss. Ragatha was just as complex and loveable as anyone and if you HATED her I feel like you should sit with that and figure out why. All she did was try to be nice and kind and friendly and she got pushed and prodded and poked so fucking much.

Kinger being SANE PERMANENTLY.

Caine still being around was also done VERY well. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel if he came back around? But seeing him going through the neural scans and LEARNING from his behavior was satisfying. Getting rid of the other half of himself in order to be a better “person” for lack of a better term.

Jax and ribbit becoming more fleshed out and seeing kauffmo as well????

And now for what I assume is everyone’s problem:

Jax abstracting. This was heartbreaking. This did not come out of nowhere. It’s been HEAVILY implied he would be next for quite some time. I hated it, but not in a “this episode sucks”. It made sense, it was emotional, it was done how it should’ve been.

Not having a set in stone way to come BACK from abstraction makes sense, albeit sucks. I do wish there was some way to reverse abstraction, but that’s just not the world gooseworx created. A lot of this show is an allegory for mental health and how relationships are important, but it is also a show about a VR video game world and not all corrupted files can be saved ya know. That’s essentially what abstractions were and it makes sense for that to be final.

In conclusion, just because the show didn’t wrap up in the color bow you wanted, doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrapped up at all. Not all endings are fairytale endings. Not all endings are happy endings. This ending was just what it needed to be. Additionally, I’m not telling you you have to think it was good, you can have valid criticisms and gripes. But going as far as to hate on the creator because the show wasn’t curated directly to you and your wants is insane. Saying the show would’ve been better if the creator didn’t create it not only is so incredibly mean, but makes 0 sense. If you liked ANY of tadc, you also should understand it wouldn’t be anything without goose. It wouldn’t exist in any capacity. It wouldn’t be tadc but curated to you, it just wouldn’t exist.

[mycomfortstuff]

HOW ARE PEOPLE SAYING TADC ENDING WAS BAD?????? HELLOOOOOO??? WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT.

[rhettroblues]

There is a right way and a wrong way to do things. I'm aware. You've said that like 600 times. Didn't your mother ever teach you any of these things? No, she didn't stick around long enough to teach me anything.

LEWIS PULLMAN as Cameron Cassmore REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES (2026) — dir. Olivia Newman

[mimosa-sexypeople-contests-2026]

WE’RE GETTING A MARCELINE AND BUBBLEGUM SPINOFF LETS FUCKKKKINNNNGGGGGG GGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[stealingpotatoes]

Do you like Eva Stratt? (I fear that by saying you liked PHM you’ve opened to gates to a bunch of asks about it.)

it's fine keep 'em coming and i DO i love you complex female characters i love you morally grey women i love my cancelled wife

[pink-petal-horns]

Threads of Memory

Bob Reynolds x Female Reader

Masterlist

The facility was quiet.

Not sterile like the hospitals you’d known—this one was… soft around the edges. Calming, almost. It was government-funded, sure, but clearly designed by someone who wanted him to feel safe. The hallways were wide and open, the windows tall. Light filtered in through gauzy curtains. But it still couldn’t reach the corners of his room.

That’s where you found Bob most days—sitting in the corner, arms resting on his knees, staring out at the trees like he was waiting for them to disappear.

You’d come every day. They’d called you when he first woke up, unsure if he’d even recognize you.

And at first, he didn’t.

—

He called you “Miss” the first three times you visited.

Not cruel. Not cold. Just careful.

“Miss,” he’d say, that deep, uncertain voice cutting the silence as you placed tea on the little table beside him. “You don’t have to stay.”

You’d smile gently, taking the chair across from him. “I know. I want to.”

His eyes—bright gold beneath the shadows—would flick to you. Study you like a puzzle. You knew he was searching for something. A memory, a flicker, a spark of recognition.

It wouldn’t come.

But you stayed anyway.

—

It was the fifth visit when something changed.

You brought old photos. Printed ones. Glossy edges, a little worn. From before the fall—before the mission where things went wrong, where the Void broke free and Bob was lost inside himself.

You laid them out gently. A small table. Two cups. A photo of the two of you on a rooftop, your head resting on his shoulder, wind in your hair. A rare moment when he’d let you be that close without panic.

He stared at it a long time.

“Is that…?”

“You and me,” you said softly. “We were close. We are close.”

He swallowed. His hands hovered above the photo like he was afraid to touch it.

“I look… happy.”

“You were,” you said, voice thick. “Not always. But sometimes.”

His eyes flicked up. “Did I ever hurt you?”

The question hit like a weight.

“No,” you answered immediately. Then, quieter: “You were scared. But you never hurt me.”

Bob looked down. “I don’t remember being him. The man in that photo. I want to. But it’s just… blank. Like someone else lived it.”

“You did,” you whispered. “You’re still him. He’s still you.”

—

The next week, he sat next to you.

Not across the room. Not in the corner. Next to you, on the couch, barely an inch of space between.

“I keep seeing flashes,” he said. “Tiny things. You—laughing at something I said. A blanket. Music. Your hand in mine.”

You looked at him slowly, heart pounding. “You remember that?”

“I don’t know if it’s memory or imagination,” he said with a soft, strained laugh. “But it’s warm. It feels real.”

You reached out, hesitating.

“May I?”

He nodded.

Your fingers curled into his. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Feels right,” he murmured.

—

He asked you about the past.

Not the missions. Not the combat. The little things.

“Did I cook?”

“Once. You burned the rice.”

“Did I ever sing?”

“Only in the shower. Terribly.”

“Did I make you laugh?”

“Every damn day.”

He smiled.

And it wasn’t the strained, unsure smile of someone trying to be polite.

It was the first real one.

—

One afternoon, you brought the old hoodie.

His.

Faded black. Smelled like cedar and safety. You’d kept it after everything, not sure why. You didn’t think he’d ever want it back.

He took it in his hands like it was fragile.

“I wore this a lot, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes,” you said quietly, “you’d leave it on the couch just so I’d pick it up and wear it.”

Bob huffed. “That sounds manipulative.”

“It worked.”

His eyes flicked up to yours. That smile again. Softer this time.

He pulled it on slowly, like muscle memory.

When he looked in the mirror across the room, he paused.

“I know that face,” he said.

You stepped beside him, wrapping your arm around his.

“You’re not gone, Bob,” you whispered. “You’re finding your way back.”

—

That night, he fell asleep with his head in your lap.

You didn’t dare move. You just ran your fingers through his hair, watching his breathing slow. His hand was wrapped around yours, like even unconscious, he didn’t want to let go.

And for the first time in months, maybe years, Bob Reynolds slept without waking up screaming.

[dearwalker]

Supersoldiers in Paris | sex pollen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker WC: 8.9k

Description: Retrieving vials from an abandoned Red Room facility gets you infected with sex pollen. You may have to make a stop in Paris with John and Bucky before you can get back home.

Tags/warnings: fem!reader, smut, sex pollen, long buildup, dirty thoughts, super soldier threesome, oral male & fem!rec, piv, quinjet sex, praising, begging, overstimulation. Bit of humor, Yelena makes an appearance. Not beta read.

Note: It’s finally here!!! This was requested by many lovely people so here you go 🤭 this is quite long, but who says porn can’t have plot? all I can say is enjoy the super soldier duo 🫶🏼

archive | masterlist | johnny’s version | clark’s version

You barely remember what the mission briefing said. Something about an old Red Room facility, decommissioned after Yelena’s family had taken it down. You were sent there to gather any biochemical weapons left behind.

The place was massive. The air was thick with dust, reeking of rust and chemicals. Endless concrete hallways stretching in complete darkness. Bucky and John walked ahead of you, flashlights, guns and shield raised, cautiously swiping the dark corridor. 

Yelena was instructed to wait back at the jet as comm support, in case things went sideways. 

"Path's clear, let's go," John's voice echoed on the walls as Bucky trailed right behind him. "Stay sharp. Even when they say it's abandoned, we don't know what or who we'll find here."

Your boots crunched over broken glass as you swept your flashlight. 

"I doubt anything’s alive in here," you claimed, gasping when your flashlight caught a string of webs nested on a corner you were passing through, "... except for spiders," you scowled, walking faster to catch up with Bucky ahead of you. 

"Spiders I can deal with," Bucky said, slightly looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the way you got closer to him. "It's the shit they left behind that worries me."

"You should find the vault's door right around the corner guys." Yelena announced through the comms. 

The corridor opened into a tall, heavy, reinforced steel door. 

"Looks like our stop," John said, running his fingers over the keypad but it was useless.

"I got it," Bucky stepped in, placing the gun on his holster and holding the flashlight between his teeth to place his hands on the door.

Bucky groaned, with a curl of his metal arm and a grinding screech, the vault hinges gave way, sliding the door open. 

The room in front of you was completely dark. You stepped inside cautiously, flashlights catching multiple metal boxes scattered around, labeled in a language you didn’t understand. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, the sealed time capsules of the Red Room's worst secrets. Bucky walked around the room reading the labels, stopping on the one he recognized as 'biological'. 

"Jackpot," John mumbled, making his way to Bucky.

It was a smaller crate compared to the rest, perched on top of a bigger one. You brushed your gloved hand over the container, the latch immediately clicking open with unsettling ease, revealing what was inside. 

Six neatly cushioned vials glowing faintly in the dark. 

The clear glass was filled with gold specks suspended in air, the dust shimmering brighter when your light passed over it.  Bucky leaned in closer, eyes narrowing like he recognized it, but he didn't say a word. 

"...uh, what is that?" you asked, noticing the way Bucky tensed up at your side. 

"Looks like glitter," John squinted, already reaching to grab one out of the box. 

"Walker, don't touch that–" Bucky protested, but John had already picked the vial. 

A loud siren rang immediately, the dark room suddenly lit up in red lights that pulsed in time with the alarm. A metallic screech echoed in the vault, the steel door Bucky had forced open slammed shut again with a heavy clang, trapping you in. 

"Shit–" John cursed, placing the glass vial back where it belonged. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

"Yeah shit, Walker! We're locked in!" you groaned. 

You looked up just in time to see a fine cloud of gold shimmer, hissing into the air like a burst of fireworks. It rained down on you before you could react. The glittering haze hung in the air, shimmering under the emergency lights, curling into your throat with every breath. 

"Fuck–" you stumbled back, coughing. 

Bucky shoved the crate shut to pick it up, dragging you behind him by instinct as you made your way back to the door. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp, like he'd seen this before.

"Don't breathe it in."

"Bit late for that!" you rasped, still coughing.

"Barnes, what is this?" John demanded, already trying to force the sealed steel door. The metal didn't even budge. 

Bucky didn't answer right away. His arm braced you steady as you blinked trying to come back to your senses, and his gaze flicked over your glassy eyes under the red lights.

"We gotta get her out of here," he said to John, who nodded and went back to force the door again. 

"I'm fine," you insisted, even as your chest ached, the air too hot in your lungs. "It's just dust–"

"No," he snapped. "It's not."

John turned from the door, breathing heavy but steady in comparison to you. "Door's heavier than before. Reinforced." 

Bucky just nodded, placing the crate carefully on the floor before placing himself next to John, both supersoldiers trying to open the door now. 

"Yelena," you desperately called into comms, fumbling with the earpiece. "Yelena, come in. We got trapped!" you insisted but nothing came back. "Dammit!" 

Seems like you were stuck in here.

For three minutes, you told yourself you were fine. It was just dust. Just harmless glitter. You already coughed it out, you were standing, breathing, moving just fine. Really. 

But then a tingling started.

At first, it was a crawl up the back of your neck. Then, heat all over your body, like the room's temperature was increasing by the minute. 

What the hell?

The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in on you. And after a few seconds it hit you, like a memory yanked out of nowhere. 

Valentina. The vault. 

"Oh my god ... are we in an incinerator again?" You panicked, voice cracking before you could stop the words from coming out. 

Bucky and John froze on their spots. 

Their heads whipped around from where they'd been bracing against the door, their bewildered faces fixed on you now. 

"...What?" John asked carefully.

"It's the– the temperature," you explained, gesturing around, but they just raised his eyebrows in more confusion. "You don't feel that?" 

John frowned, leaving his spot on the door to get closer, eyes scanning you. "It's not hot in here. Vents are still running," he affirmed, lifting his gloved hand to your forehead, hissing when his fingers touched your skin. "Jesus, you're burning up." 

"No, no. I'm fine. Must be the adrenaline," you shook your head, stepping back from him. "I'm just... it's the lights, it feels the same when Valentina tried to... you know," you shrugged, trying to brush it off. 

"Right ... the vault," John nodded hesitantly. It did feel quite similar, without the fire burning you to death, of course. 

"Yeah," you said quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Forget about it, it's just me being dramatic."

But you could feel the sweat trickling down your spine. The heat wasn't in the room, it was inside you. Bucky's gaze flicked between you and the sparkly dust still hanging in the air, not really believing for a second what you were saying.

You really had to get out of there. 

"Walker," Bucky snapped, turning back to the door with determination. "I need your help over here."

John didn't argue, but only turned after giving you a look that said he didn't quite believe you either. He crossed the vault in a few strides and planted his shoulder against the door beside Bucky. 

You tried to move, tried to be useful, but your body felt heavier, like your bones weren't holding you together anymore. The alarm screamed overhead. Your pulse beating in your ears, and there was this indescribable heat pooling in between your thighs. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Not like this is the first time I've been locked in a vault," you mumbled, tried to reason with yourself. 

You shifted your stance without thinking, thighs pressing together, almost making you whimper.

All you could do was zone out, turning around as both super soldiers pushed shoulder to shoulder, muscles straining, throats grunting as they threw their combined weight against the reinforced steel.

And god that sound, the deep, rough groans of pure brute force snapped your head around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

Suddenly, you weren't zoning out anymore. Your eyes were on them. 

You saw Bucky's jaw clenched tight, veins standing out his neck, the plates of his metal arm shifting and grinding as he braced himself against the steel. His long, wavy hair falling forward, damp with sweat from the strain.

Beside him, John ripped off his beret in frustration, tossing it aside. His blonde hair stuck in messy strands, his shoulders locking as he set his weight and shoved again, teeth clenching in focus. His chest heaved, the muscles of his broad back tightening under the suit. 

You swallowed hard. Something switched inside you. 

You should've been helping. You should've been searching the walls, finding an override panel, anything. Instead, you stood rooted in place drooling, watching two supersoldiers straining and sweating under red emergency lights like some fever dream fantasy.

And then Bucky's voice cut through the alarm, sharp, commanding, something deep in you pulsed in response wishing it was you being ordered around. 

"Walker. On three. Push."

No hesitation. John just shifted his stance, nodded, and followed the order without a word. They pushed, the sound of metal straining filling the vault. No progress.

"Again," John gritted this time, breathless. 

The door didn't budge. But your knees nearly did.

God. The sight of them side by side, Bucky's darkness and John's gold under the emergency glow, two soldiers down to their raw strength and grit. Together they were a sight for sore eyes. 

And all you could think about was how well they would work together on each side of you too–

Why do I want them to order me around like that? Why is Walker's voice doing this to me? We're literally trapped to death and all I can think about is the shift in Bucky's metal arm around my–

You dug your nails into your palm, forcing yourself to breathe through it. Focus. Panic. Not arousal. 

This is panic! you're panicking. 

Still, your eyes refused to look away. Watching the strain in their throats, the sweat glistening under the strobing lights, the way Bucky snapped out an order and John just followed, like an instinct. 

Your thighs pressed together on their own accord, heat crawling lower, faster. You took in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself.

Stop it. Stop. You should be helping. Find a panel, a switch, anything. Don't just stand here drooling. 

You stumbled away from the door, looking around for another exit, trying to zone out again their groans are like it was something you weren't supposed to hear. 

"Hey–" Bucky's voice snapped from behind you, concerned. "Don't drift too far. Stay in our sight."

"Right, in sight!" You shot him a quick nod and a smile that was far too tight. Still, you let your legs carry you further, their voices now lower as you darted your flashlight against the strobing red lights. 

"We're not making progress here," John grimaced.

"We keep pushing, Walker."

"You think brute force is gonna get this thing open?" John shot back, teeth gritted as he shoved again. "Feels like it's bolted from the outside." 

"It's steel," Bucky growled. "Steel bends."

"Love the optimism, Barnes." John huffed a bitter laugh.

"Less talking, more pushing."

Your flashlight drifted upward. Something John said echoed in your mind, "vents are still running". Right, the vents! That's where the dust must've come from. 

Your eyes scanned the high ceiling, following the flicker of the red lights until you found it, the grate of an air vent right above you. 

"Boys!" you blurted, pointing up. "The vents! There, look!"

John was the first to move towards you, immediately taking a leap to drag the vent's cover down with one sharp pull. A cloud of glitter leftovers rained down, Bucky arrived just in time to push you back before it hit you again. 

"This shit is everywhere," John grimaced, dusting the speckles on his shoulders. "I don't think you should go through there," he turned to you, almost as if he was concerned about the way it was affecting you. "We could keep trying the door." 

"It's our only way out," you shook your head, breathless. "I'm fine, really. Just need to get to jet." 

"Okay," he nodded. "Good job finding the vent."

Your chest stuttered. Heat flushed your cheeks for a whole new reason this time.

He said good. He said I did a good job. I could be doing a better type of job on you—stop it. 

You swallowed hard, biting back the ridiculous little smile tugging at your lips. The world was ending, your body was betraying you, and still, here you were fantasizing.

"I'll check it first," John announced, like it was up to no debate. "Then I'll pull you." 

He took a bigger leap, catching the edge of the vent, shoulders flexing as he hauled himself higher. A feral groan spilling out as his chest strained against the metal. 

You froze, pulse spiking for entirely the wrong reason. The sound rolled right down your spine.

"Got it," John hissed, swinging one arm over, then the other. His hair fell back, grunting again as he pulled himself through, boots scraping against the vent frame until he shoved the rest of his body inside. 

Why did that look so good?

Before you could get lost in your thoughts again, John's face reappeared through the vent. He reached a hand down to you. "You're next. Come on."

Bucky crouched down suddenly, the emergency lights flashing red across his dark hair as he braced beneath the vent.

"Step on my shoulder," he said firmly, looking up at you.

"W-what?" you blurted. 

"Don't worry, I can take it," he flashed you a smile, his metal hand tapping his own shoulder.

Your throat went dry. I wonder what else he can take–

Your stomach flipped, but you stepped forward, bracing your boot against the solid line of Bucky's shoulder. His hands came up automatically, sliding around your calves, then higher, his big palms holding your thighs as he slowly stood with you on top of him. Literally. 

He adjusted his stance, lifting you higher. "Reach for his hand."

Yes, sir. 

You stretched, fingertips almost brushing the vent's edge, your body swaying until John leaned down through the opening, his strong hand catching yours. 

"That's it, good," Bucky praised from below, almost making you falter your grip on John's, but he tightened his hand around yours.  

"Got you," he grunted, finally hauling you up.

For a heartbeat, you were suspended between them, Bucky's hands gripping your thighs from below, John's hold pulling you forward, your chest pressed flush against the frame. Sandwiched.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You finally went through the vent, collapsing against John's chest with a shaky exhale, your heart racing far too fast, your thighs inevitably pressed to his. And something was definitely there. Right in his crotch. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, realizing holy shit this is happening to him too.

He was grateful for the darkness hiding the blush on his cheeks, as he cleared his throat and pushed himself away from you. 

"I'll uh– check the corner," he said, leaning over the opening. "Can you get up here on your own, Barnes?" 

"Of course I can, Walker," Bucky rolled his eyes, clutching the small crate of vials under his elbows, getting ready to jump. 

You covered a laugh with your hand, watching as John crawled forward, the sound of metal creaking under his weight. A low grunt slipped out as he maneuvered past a tight bend, his broad shoulders scraping the walls. You bit your lip hard, forcing yourself to focus on anything else.

Behind you, Bucky pulled himself up into the vent with a leap. The frame groaned under his weight, metal arm catching the red light in flashes. Another grunt. Another low exhale as he finally got inside, placing the small crate in front of him to push it. 

"Vent to the hallway's clear. Safe to go," John's voice echoed.

"Copy," Bucky mumbled.

You started crawling, your skin scraping against cold metal helped ease the heat pooling in your body. 

Focus. You're an Avenger. You've crawled through worse. You can keep it together.

Except you couldn't.

Because every move behind you was highlighted with Bucky's deep breaths, dragging through the narrow space. Each exhale traveling across your legs, hot even through your suit, hitting places it shouldn't.

You clenched your jaw. Tried to ignore it. Tried not to picture what it would sound like with his mouth anywhere near your skin.

And then another rough breath came as he passed right through that tight bend, and your composure snapped.

"Bucky... please stop breathing like that," you hissed over your shoulder, voice weaker than you intended.

Bucky froze.

And for a moment there was just silence, except for your own ragged breathing.

His brows furrowed, confused, almost guilty. But he swallowed hard, realization flickered in his eyes. He knew what you were fighting. You couldn't help it. 

"...Sorry," he apologized, and then no more sounds from him. 

The truth is, he knew exactly what the dust was doing to you. Hell, what it was doing to him. He tried not to look, but the way you swayed your hips from side to side as you crawled in front of him made his mind wander with things he shouldn't be thinking. Maybe in the secrecy of his room, yes. Not in the middle of a situation like this. 

Thankfully, the vent opened into the corridor you saw initially. The lights were strobing white instead of red, and it was silent except for the echo of the alarms still pulsing faintly in the distance. John had already dropped down, boots hitting the concrete with a solid thud. He cleared both sides, then glanced back up at you.

"Jump," he called, holding his arms out. "I got you."

"J-Jump? Absolutely not."

"Come on," his voice was commanding. "How else are you coming down? We gotta get you back to the jet."

He was right, the drop was too high to risk without help. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, too calm to be Walker but no one was acting out their right minds here anyway.

"Fine."

You pushed forward, braced your palms on the vent frame, and dropped. You landed right into 6'2 of solid muscle. Strong arms wrapping under your thighs and back like a damsel in distress. He set you down gently, his hands lingering a half second too long before he stepped back.

A heavy thud sounded above, Bucky dropping down on his own, crouched low with the small crate in his hands.

"Let's get out of here." 

Both instinctively shifted, stepping forward cautiously. And you, sweating, trembling, still buzzing from John's arms and Bucky's grip, found yourself guided back, tucked neatly behind the sight of two super soldiers moving like predators ahead of you. Just a little more. The way out was close. The jet was close.

But so were they. 

You finally made it to the exit, the three of you burst out into the open, snow crunching under your boots, the freezing air hitting your face. It was blinding after the strobing darkness of the vault, harsh daylight bouncing off the endless stretch of white forest. For a moment, it almost felt good, almost burned the heat out of you. Almost.

And then finally, the jet. The ramp lowered with a hiss, and you stumbled up first. You leaned against the side wall, catching your breath

"Finally!" Yelena was halfway down, about to come charging out. Her blonde hair swung as she stopped short, eyes wide. "You guys freaked me out! Comm's weren't coming through, what the hell happened?"

"We got the vials," you panted. "But got trapped."

Yelena's gaze narrowed at your flushed cheeks, and the sheen of sweat at your temple despite the cold air outside. 

"You okay?" she asked carefully. 

"Yeah," you said quickly, forcing a smile. "We just had to run."

John walked in after you, without even glancing at Yelena. He didn't stop, didn't debrief, just went straight to the cockpit, flipping switches to get out of there as soon as possible. 

Bucky followed behind, silent, setting the small box down against a wall. His face was unreadable, eyes fixed anywhere but on you. 

Yelena's brows furrowed as she looked between the three of you. Your flushed face, John's silence, Bucky's poker face. Something was not right, but since none of you seemed eager to explain, she decided to keep watching in silence until she figured it out. 

John sat in the cockpit, back straight, shoulders stiff as he adjusted controls. He rolled his neck once, then again. He frowned at the discomfort. He was used to adrenaline spikes, used to tension. But the strange hum he'd been feeling since he was in the vault, that uncomfortable warmth spreading across his skin and ... his crotch, felt off. 

He brushed it away, like he'd been doing all this time. Just focus, Walker. Fly the damn jet.

Bucky sat on the bench near the cockpit, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his jaw was locked, eyes fixed on some random spot in the cabin. Sweat pooled under his collar, spreading all around his body, but he told himself it was just the shift from snow to being in a cabin. 

You sat tucked in the far corner, trying to escape Yelena's intense glare. She tilted her head, suspicious, eyes narrowing.

"I'm fine, Yelena. Stop looking at me like that," you whispered, waving her off.

"Looking at you like what?" she innocently shrugged. "Like you can't remember how to breathe?" 

"I'm just catching my breath," you rolled your eyes. Unfortunately, shallow pants slipped out of you, involuntary, no matter how hard you tried to mask them. You couldn't. 

Bucky's head snapped up. 

His enhanced hearing caught every stuttered inhale, every soft exhale from your corner.

And then John stirred too.

He froze mid motion, hands hovering over the controls, before his head jerked in your direction sharply. He tilted his head, eyes widening just slightly.

He smelled you. The arousal. The wetness between your thighs. It was so much. 

"What the fuck–" he mumbled under his breath, looking away from you when Yelena caught him staring. 

His gaze flicked closer in the cabin, right into Bucky's. For one second, they locked eyes. A silent understanding. Then John snapped his gaze away, back to the windshield, flushed like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

—

An hour. 

An hour of tense silence inside the cabin. Yelena had gotten bored at this point, like just watching you all act weird wasn't enough. So she decided to poke a little bit, waiting for someone to break. 

"You know, Walker over there looks like someone shoved a stick up his ass" she sneered. "Look at that try hard pilot face."

You let out a soft laugh, easing up for just a bit a her comment. If she only knew you were imagining that 'try hard pilot face' somewhere else. 

John stiffened in his seat. He should've gotten angry at the comment, but god, that laugh.

On the bench, Bucky should've snorted at the comment, maybe added another one too. But your laugh was too bright in the dark, too alive, too fucking pretty.

And then you got up.

Just a normal thing, standing, stretching your legs, padding toward the small water supply near the cockpit to make up for all the liquid you were sweating.

Bucky's eyes tracked the sway of your hips before he caught himself. His jaw locked, making his gaze snap away. Don't look. Don't.

You bent down to grab a bottle from the lower compartment, and Bucky's knuckles whitened against his thigh. His mind betrayed him instantly ... his big hands on your waist, palms sliding lower, pulling you back against him–No. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Stop it.

John felt it differently, his senses sharpened until it was unbearable. He could smell you stronger now. Not the sweat, the arousal. The change in your heartbeat the closer you came. He forced himself not to turn, not to look, because he knew if he did, he wouldn't stop. 

Then you cracked the bottle open, lifted it to your lips, gulping greedily, desperately. Your throat worked, your chest rising and falling as you drank. You gulped it down quickly, already reaching for another one. 

And then you gasped into the second bottle, a soft sound of relief as the cool water slid down.

John's hand tightened on the controls. He imagined that bottle wasn't water. Imagined your throat working around something else, the same gasp breaking free when he'd press his palm against your neck. His bulge strained harder, pressing against his zipper, and he cursed silently. 

He told himself it was just the adrenaline, like you said before, just his metabolism catching up. But then you took another sip of water, throat bobbing, his brain went there again. 

What else could he make you swallow like that?

What other sounds would you make if he bent you right over the console in front of him. His hand at the back of your neck, pressing you down, your breath fogging against the glass as he filled you hard and deep. The thought hit so sharp he nearly groaned aloud.

Bucky wasn't doing better, either. 

He swallowed hard, his hearing was sharper than John's. That tiny, choked sound of yours ran through his whole body, because fuck, he could pull ten more out of you without trying. 

His metal arm whirred quietly, plates shifting as if it too was fighting the urge to pin you down. His mind replayed the details cruelly, your lips wet and swollen from the bottle, the flash of your throat tilting back.

He imagined ripping you out of that suit, spreading you across the bench he sat on, thighs open wide, your pulse hammering against his lips as he kissed down your neck. His hands, skin and vibranium, holding your hips open, his mouth drinking in every gasp, every broken moan.

They tried to zone out. To push the thoughts away.

But the smell lingered. The faint, sweet heat of your arousal in the cabin air. Impossible to ignore. Impossible not to want.

Inside, they were both drowning in the same thought. 

If she asks... we're not saying no.

You made your way back to your seat, oblivious to them fighting for the last thread of their restraint. Yelena arched a brow at you.

God, if she only knew how bad it actually was.

"Are you sure everything is fine, Walker?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. 

She had to know if John was going to crash the jet the next time you did something. 

"I said I'm fine, Belova," he didn't turn around from the cockpit, his voice coming through gritted teeth. 

"Looking strong, John." Bucky drawled, leaning back on the bench, his tone mocking. Maybe if he poked John enough, it would distract him from the filthy thoughts invading his own mind. 

Unfortunately, rage bait always worked on John F(ucking) Walker. He turned around in disbelief, like he couldn't believe Bucky, who was going through the same thing, outed him like that. 

"What do you want me to say, Bucky? That I can't stop thinking about bending her over the console until she forgets her own fucking name?" he snapped. "And you better stop pretending you're not thinking the same shit too."

Bucky just bit the inside of his cheek. You stopped breathing. Yelena's eyes went wide. 

"Woah, woah, what the fuck is wrong with you guys?" she scowled, standing up from her bench. She crossed her arms tight over her chest, scanning the three of you. 

She spun to the small metal box you'd taken from the facility. "Okay. Let me check the vials you got."

"Yelena–don't," Bucky was on his feet instantly, but she was already flipping the box's lid open.

The cabin light's made the golden shimmer glisten in the vials. Yelena froze, eyes widening in fear.

"Oh no. No no no no no," she closed the lid and stepped back fast, as her gaze snapped between you, John, and Bucky.

And that's when she caught the faint flecks of gold dust clinging to your suit. To theirs. Barely shining on the fabric, in your hair, faint but unmistakable.

"Oh my god," she whispered, stepping back. Then turned to Bucky. "Is that–?"

"Yeah. It's that." Bucky sighed, resigned. 

Yelena's face went pale. Whatever smugness she'd carried before vanished instantly, replaced by raw panic.

"Oh hell no," she muttered, backing further away, hands up like you were radioactive. "I'm not going through that shit again."

"Again? Yelena, what the fuck is it?" 

You pushed up from your seat, stepping toward her, panicked, and desperate for answers, but she snapped her hands up between you.

"Don't. Don't you dare come closer," she said. "Stay back."

She was already grabbing the emergency gear, yanking a parachute bag, scrambling for the hatch as Bucky paced around. 

"Yelena wait–"

"Oh no, my friend," she said, laughing dryly. Strapping it across her back and chest. "I am not staying for this."

The hatch alarm blasted as Yelena slapped the release. The jet door cracked open with a violent hiss, freezing air howling into the cabin. The sudden force knocked you off balance, you stumbled, arms flailing for support. 

Someone caught you. Hard.

Bucky. 

One palm sat firmly on your waist, while his metal arm steadied your back. The world tilted, and suddenly you were pressed against him. Now you hadn't only felt John's bulge, but Bucky's too. 

God, he's so warm. His hands just fit on my body. If he just slid them lower... 

"Wait–Yelena!" you shouted, gripping his forearm but leaning toward the hatch. "Take me with you!"

Yelena stopped mid strap. She stared amused at you, then at Bucky's hold on you, then back again. 

"Get a hold of this girl, Barnes!" she shouted, her voice cracking over the air. She tugged her parachute tight, shaking her head. "You'd die if you come with me. Trust me. But you're in–" She gestured between the two supersoldiers, smirking. "... very good hands!" 

"See you tomorrow!" she shouted over the noise. 

"Tomorrow!?" you asked in disbelief. She was really jumping god knows where. 

"Come pick me up when you're done!" She braced for the jump, "on a different jet!" and with that, she was gone. 

The hatch kept open for a few seconds before Bucky slammed it shut with a metallic clang, the locks sealing. The wind cut off instantly, you staggered away from Bucky's grasp. 

"Oh my god," you whispered, as you turned slowly. “How long until we get home?” You dared to ask. 

John checked over the radar. “We’re about to fly over France right now. We still got a few hours left.”

A few hours. With two men. 

Two very large, very infected men.

You were so fucked.

Hopefully. 

You didn't have time to get lost in your fantasies at this point. It was like the heat finally caught up to you. The air grew heavier, too warm. Your breath came in shallow bursts as you stumbled backward, fingers fumbling with the collar of your suit like it was strangling you.

God ... it's hot. Why is it so hot?

Your throat burned like you hadn't chugged two bottles of water earlier. Your pulse thudded in your ears. 

And theirs. But they didn't move yet. 

John sat rigid in his seat, knuckles white where he gripped the controls. Bucky had gone back to his bench, leaning forward slightly, eyes locked anywhere but you, like he was tracking you by scent alone. 

Which John certainly was. 

You began to get rid of the extra layers that were choking you. Unzipped the top of your suit, letting it hang on your hips, revealing a tight tank top under it. You ripped your gloves off, dropped any weapons on the floor. 

You braced yourself against the wall of the jet, panting. Every nerve in your body sparked like it was trying to burn itself from the inside out. Your core ached, throbbed, so violently you thought you might cry. 

This was it. This was the moment you died because of some horny glittery dust. 

A small, shaky whimper slipped free as if your body was begging for their hands, their mouths, anything.

John's hands snapped off the controls at the sound. The autopilot clicked on with a sharp beep as he stood, pacing around the cockpit. 

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. 

"Walker," Bucky warned.

"Tell me I'm not the only one losing my goddamn mind here, Bucky." 

"You're not," Bucky let out a dry laugh, his gaze cutting back to you, and the sound of your fast pulse in his ears. "But you're scaring her."

The problem was, you weren't scared. Not of them. 

If anything, you wished John would just walk over and pin you down on the floor already. Get that iron grip against your neck as he fucked you until you forgot your own name, like he said.

"Sorry," John gritted, still pacing around. 

You almost laughed. Don't apologize. Don't back off. 

"Guys–" your vision blurred, and before you could hold yourself up, you dropped to your knees, then the floor.

Your body gave out.

The last thing you saw was both of them lurching forward at once. Bucky dropped beside you, catching your limp body, while John cradled the back of your head before it hit the floor. Bucky's metal hand tapped your jaw gently, turning your face toward him.

"Hey, hey! stay with us." Bucky urged, voice laced with panic.

Your breathing slowed, too much. Too shallow.

"Bucky, you know this stuff..." John said, eyes darting between him and your body.

Bucky sighed, nodding. "HYDRA ran tests like this, you need release–not just sex, more like ... connection. I can–I can try something." 

Bucky leaned down over your face, and without giving it a second thought he pressed his mouth to yours. It was soft, like he was giving something instead of taking. 

He felt like a goddamn Disney prince giving the princess a true love's kiss to wake her up.

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp into Bucky's lips, blinking to see two faces right there. John hovering holding your head, brows furrowed in concern, and Bucky crouched over you, just inches away from your lips. 

"Bucky..." you whispered voice shaking as your fists knotted into the collar of his suit. It was not rejection, it was plea, trust, desperation. 

"You're safe. We got you." Bucky didn’t pry your hands off his collar, if anything, he let you cling tighter. "What do you need, doll?" he asked softly. His metal hand hovered an inch from your cheek, like he wanted to touch but wouldn't unless you told him to.

"You can tell us, sweetheart." John added. "Whatever you want, we'll make it happen."

Just the thought of 'whatever you want' made your pulse go even faster. 

"Your heartbeat's not right," Bucky pointed out, chuckling. His hand finally came up, brushing the damp hair off your temple. “We can hear what your body wants doll … but we need to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

Bucky’s face softened when you dropped the grip on his collar, your head being cradled by John’s large hand again. His voice was steady, reassuring. 

“We’ll stop right here if you want. You say the word, and we’ll cool off, sit on opposite ends of this jet until we land,” John said. “If you’d rather, I’ll open the damn hatch and jump too.” He chuckled dryly, but he was being honest. 

The weight of their restraint nearly undid you more. Two super soldiers, barely holding themselves back, offering you an out when every vein in their bodies screamed to just take you. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “We don’t start unless you ask.”

Your lips parted, a broken sound slipping free. 

"I want you–I need you," you whispered. "Both … please John, Bucky … I can’t–“

“Shh– you don’t have to feel bad for asking,” Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "No more holding back. Not from us. Not from yourself."

You nodded, biting your lip with anticipation. “Touch me–please,” you begged, when he began pulling the rest of the tight suit down your legs. 

“Where, doll?” Bucky asked. “Say it.”

Heat burned your face, but you leaned closer, shameless now.

“Here,” you whispered, dragging his hand down until it pressed against your thigh, fingers almost brushing your drenched panties. “And John–“ your gaze snapped to him, his pupils blown wide. “Pin me down, choke me, something. I don’t care …just don’t stop.”

“You heard her,” Bucky said to John who looked at you in awe, his metal plates whirring as his grip tightened around your thigh. His voice dropped, dark and final. “She asked.”

John nodded, like he’d just been appointed a new mission. He lowered himself fully to the floor, your head pillowed by his thigh. He wrapped his large hand around your neck, your head falling back with a strangled moan, your body arching between them like a live wire, every inch of you begging to be touched, kissed, claimed.

“Easy,” Bucky soothed, holding your hips down as he kissed his way up your thighs. “We got you. Just breathe, doll.”

Your head was still spinning, but their warmth, John’s palm braced on your neck, Bucky’s fingers digging against your thighs, gave you something to cling to.

John was hovering behind you, his broad shoulders filling your vision, his jaw tight. You could see it, he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. Not unless you gave it to him.

So you did.

You fisted the front of his suit and tugged, pulling him down before he could think twice. His mouth crashed against yours in a heat that wasn’t just the pollen, wasn’t just need, it was all about him and what he wanted to do way before today. The kiss was raw, reckless, his beard scratching your skin like he’d been starving for it. 

A groan tore out of him the second your lips pulled away for air. His hand slid from your neck to your mouth, running his thumb over your lower lip. 

You suddenly felt the weight of Bucky’s hand on your hip tighten ever so slightly. He’d been down there, holding you steady while you kissed John in front of him, yet his pupils were blown wide. 

You leaned forward, still half dazed, and met his eyes. He didn’t move, but just like John, you tugged him up to brush your lips against his before pressing harder, hungrier. Bucky’s groan was rougher, deeper, his hand sliding from your hip to cradle the back of your head like he needed leverage. His mouth opened against yours, metal fingers flexing at your waist with a clink of plates, reminding you exactly how strong he was, and how carefully he was holding you now.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, lips swollen from Bucky, John instantly tilted your chin back, claiming the other side of your mouth before you could even catch your breath. Like he couldn’t stand to let Bucky have you without marking his claim too.

Bucky’s hand tightened at your hip at the same time John’s arm caged your waist from behind, their touches overlapping, crowding, making you dizzy.

“You like this, don’t you?” John groaned against your mouth, lips brushing yours with every word. “Being trapped between us.” 

You moaned into his lips, gasping when Bucky’s lips went straight to your collarbone. His hands were the first to slip under your shirt, John’s lips leaving you only for a moment so he could peel it over your head. 

You gasped when the cooler air of the jet kissed your overheated skin, though it was nothing compared to the way John’s rough hand spread across your stomach, pulling you tighter to his chest. Their touches overlapped, fumbled, one stripping what the other left behind. John hooked his fingers in your bra’s clasp, finally freeing your breasts to them. 

Bucky’s eyes burned as they raked over your bare skin, while John took no time to run his hands all over them from behind you. 

Pinned between their bodies, almost entirely undressed and shaking, you thought you might actually combust before either of them even got to your panties, the only piece left. 

“Fucking knew it,” John mumbled against your ear, teeth grazing your skin. “Knew you’d taste this good… look this good…”

“You’re ours now,” Bucky rasped against your skin. John growled in agreement, his hand spreading wide at your hip before sliding lower, pulling you back against him.

“Please– I need … I need more,” you panted. 

"Shhh. I know, doll," Bucky cooed, his hands already working to lay you back down on the floor between them, your head falling once again on John’s lap. "We're gonna make it better."

"You’re gonna let us take care of you, sweetheart?" John teased. 

You nodded frantically, already panting again, your whole body arching toward them. They both reached to unzip their vests, but you stopped them with one hand on each. 

“No! The suits stay on,” you begged, batting your eyelashes at them. “Please…” 

They exchanged a smirk, their cocks straining harder against their pants from your request. 

“Anything for you, doll.” Bucky said, steady metal grip at your hips as he sank to his knees between your thighs. “Shit– you’re dripping already,” he chuckled, his fingers playing over the wet patch on your panties making you shiver. 

John’s mouth found yours before you could even say anything, swallowing your gasp in a rougher kiss. His hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back on his lap so he could take more, deeper, as Bucky slid your panties off with ease. 

The scrape of his stubble against your thighs was the only warning before his hot mouth pressed to you. Your cry was muffled against John’s tongue, the sound caught in his throat as he groaned in return. 

“God, sweetheart,” he said against your lips, “you sound perfect.”

Bucky’s growls vibrated against your wet folds, the kind of sound that made your thighs tremble around his shoulders. His flesh hand locked you in place, forcing you to take every slow, precise stroke of his tongue. 

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Bucky rasped between licks, turning you into a moaning mess. 

John pulled back just far enough to watch your face, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. “Look at you… taking that so good. Bet you’d let me fuck that pretty mouth, huh?”

Your whimper was answer enough. He carefully placed your head sideways further down his left thigh, your cheek resting on the rough fabric of his pants. He reached inside his pants to finally pull out his thick, throbbing cock. It sprung up, big, hot and swollen. Being offered right in front of your face like a fucking popsicle. A breath got caught in your throat when you sized him up, biting your lip in anticipation. 

John smirked down at your surprise, and didn’t wait long. He fisted his cock, heavy on his hand, before slapping it a few times around your parted lips, open with the moans coming out from Bucky working down on you. Your head dropped back, but John’s hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he commanded. "Now, be a good girl and open up for me."

And you did, willingly, desperately. His thick cock brushed your lips again and you moaned, sucking him in as far as you could take him. His rhythm was slow at first, like testing your limits, but it didn't take long before the hunger overtook him. 

"Just like that," John grunted, his hand tangled in your hair as you hollowed your cheeks around his speed. "So fucking pretty with your mouth full.”

John’s grip tightened at the back of your head with one hand, the other moving again to wrap around your neck. His groans rumbled low and raw as he fed himself faster into your mouth. His taste, his heat, his weight, every inch of him was overwhelming. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel. John’s thick cock in your mouth, Bucky’s relentless lips down on you. The growls and curses vibrating around you, the way your body lit up under their touch.

And God, you wanted more.

"Goddamn," Bucky hissed, sliding his fingers inside you now. "Doll, you’re shaking."

You couldn’t even give him an answer with John deep inside your throat, making your eyes water. 

John groaned above you as you sucked harder, tongue swirling, your moans vibrating against him. "Good girl. Such a good fucking girl … fuck–“ 

Your eyes flicked up, catching the sight of him becoming undone, his chest heaving under that beautiful suit, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn’t breathe without cursing your name.

When he finally came, it was with a growl torn straight from his chest, his grip tightening in your hair as his hips jerked back. The warm liquid filled your mouth, John’s head falling forward to watch you take every single drop. He drove his cock deeper inside you, making sure you choked a little on the cum spilling out of him. 

He finally pulled out, finally letting you gasp for air. He smiled down at the sight of you, lips parted, throat working as you swallowed him. His hand softened immediately after, thumb brushing a leftover drop on your lower lip with surprising gentleness.

Bucky curled his fingers just right after that, claiming the moans coming out of your lips as his now. Reminding you of him. His mouth made your body shake with pleasure, but his eyes, dark, stormy blue were locked on your mouth. On your lips swollen from John. On the way you licked the corner of your mouth without thinking.

John chuckled, still stroking your hair like he’d just claimed you. “What’s the matter, Barnes?” he rasped, voice smug. “Jealous?”

Bucky didn’t even have to answer him, all he had to do was suck on your clit, harder, enough to make you roll your head back on John’s thigh, muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth. 

John chuckled darkly, watching with lazy satisfaction. “Guess he missed your voice, sweetheart,” he said. “Better give it to him nice and loud, then.” He reached your hand covering your mouth, and brought it down to hear you come undone. 

Bucky’s mouth was relentless, sucking, licking, his beard scratching all over. His fingers curling just right. Every sound he pulled from your throat seemed to drive him harder, like he was determined to erase John from your tongue entirely. 

You clawed at his shoulder, a broken cry spilling out of you louder than you meant, louder than you could stop.

“That’s it,” he groaned against you. “That’s the sound I wanted. Don’t hold back from me, doll.”

His metal arm pressed harder into your hip, anchoring you while his right hand slid up your stomach, holding you down. 

“Fuck, Buck–“

You broke.

The first orgasm ripped through you like fire, your thighs trembling violently around his head, your voice echoing in the cabin as you cried out for him. He didn’t stop, he chased every pulse, every shake, his mouth coaxing you through wave after wave until you were left shuddering and boneless in his grip.

Only then did he ease up, his mouth slick, beard wet, his breaths ragged as he finally looked up at you.

“Yeah,” he rasped, a feral grin curling his lips. “That’s mine.”

Behind you, John let out a wrecked laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ… guess Bucky really wanted to hear you scream, sweetheart.”

You panted there trembling, your body still twitching from the aftershocks, and knew without a doubt, you weren’t even close to being finished yet.

Before you could even catch your breath, Bucky was rising up to his knees, wiping his chin with his leather sleeve. He was the one who grabbed your body from the floor, carrying you over to the bench he’d been sitting before. He placed your knees there, John already walking behind you to pop your ass up for him, as Bucky lined himself up with your mouth. 

"You're doing so good doll.” Bucky praised. “You want more?"

You nodded, lips parted, panting.

He stood next to the bench, tugging at his belt with one hand, never breaking eye contact. You licked your lips, and that was it, he groaned, pulling his cock out like he couldn’t take another second. You drooled for him as much as you did for John. Bucky’s heavy length rested on his hand as he drove it to your mouth. 

When you wrapped your lips around him, his entire body shuddered, like he was finally getting some release. A sound ripped out of him, his metal hand finding the back of your head, holding you steady but careful, always careful.

“Jesus fuck,” he growled, his thighs tightening as your mouth slid deeper. “Such a perfect little mouth.”

Behind you, John lined himself up to your entrance, with a smirk curving his mouth as he watched.

“Told you she’s good, Bucky. Ruins you, doesn’t she?”

Bucky’s answering growl vibrated through his chest. His hand clenched tight in your hair as his hips stuttered forward, losing control just like John did.

You choked a gasp on his cock as John pushed himself with a harsh snap of his hips, The stretch was everything you wanted, everything you needed. 

Your hands dug into the bench, muscles trembling, back arched as John slammed into you from behind.

“Fuck,” John groaned behind you, sliding deeper, hands gripping your hips so tight it felt like he’d leave bruises. “You feel… you feel like heaven.”

Your body rocked forward with every thrust, Bucky’s hand anchoring you as he pushed faster each time. Your lips slid wet and hot around him, your tongue tracing every inch, and the thickness of him filled you until your jaw ached. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Bucky hissed, his hips moving deeper until he made you gag around his length. “Good little doll… so perfect between us.” 

John’s thrusts picked up, rougher now, and he leaned forward, mouth at your ear, voice thick. “You want both of us to come inside you, huh? Fill you up till you can’t walk?”

You whimpered around Bucky’s cock, your body shaking with overstimulation.

“Gonna fill you real good, doll. Over and over. We know you need it.” Bucky groaned, eyes glazed, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

John shifted slightly, one hand reaching between your thighs to rub perfect circles over your clit. Your head fell forward, your body already tightening, the promise of what was coming sending you right to the edge.

“Come for us first. Show us how bad you want it.”

You cried out, muffled by Bucky’s dick on your mouth, shattered, clenching around both of them as your orgasm hit you mercilessly. But they didn’t stop. If anything, they accelerated their paces. 

“Gonna come down your throat, doll. Ready to swallow?” his metal fingers flexed at your jaw, steadying you. 

Your muffled moan around him was enough. His breath hitched, his rhythm broke, and he spilled his cum deep in your throat in a few ragged thrusts. You swallowed him down, all of it, and when he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed your jaw with tenderness, you just smiled up at him, cum drunk at this point. 

John anchored you back to reality when his thrusts stuttered, hips jerking against you, and then he groaned, as he spilled inside you too. His grip bruised your hips, holding you tight against him as he ground deep, chasing every last pulse. Making sure you could feel him inside for days. 

“Shit–“ you blurted, breathless, your body flopping down on the bench. 

But that itch, that goddamn itch from the gold dust still tingled across your body. You were still trembling, thighs weak from John, when Bucky reached down and hooked an arm around your waist.

“C’mere, doll,” he rasped, hauling you up as he sat on the bench. Your back hit his vest as he pulled you into his lap, his thighs spread wide beneath you.

You gasped as the head of his cock pressed against your slick heat, the aftershocks still sparking through your body.

“Ride me,” he ordered, metal hand braced at your hip, the other sliding up your chest to hold you tight to him. His breath burned against your ear as he whispered, “show Walker how good you look bouncing on my cock.”

You sank down slowly, your walls clenching hard around him. His grip tightened on your waist, guiding your hips until you were moving, grinding, lifting, sinking again.

“Fuck–“ his head tipping back, “that’s it, good doll.”

John crouched low in front of you, blue eyes burning as he watched you slide down onto Bucky. Your arms reached instantly to John’s biceps to hold yourself, his hand clamping around your thigh to keep you steady, and somewhere in the middle of it Bucky huffed out a laugh, lips brushing your back.

“You two ever think–“ he groaned the thought with a sharp thrust that made you gasp, “–this jet’s a little cramped?”

John snapped his head from your body to him, “Now you wanna bring that up?”

“I’m just saying …” he panted, still moving, “…she deserves better than this bench.”

You wanted to smile, but all you could do was a grimace from how good Bucky was hitting that spot, all while talking to John. 

“Better where?” John asked, his hands going up to hold your arms when you dug your nails on his. 

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the cockpit radar. “Are we still in France?”

John leaned just enough to check the flashing map “Yeah…right over Paris.”

His eyes darted back to you immediately, barely holding yourself up as Bucky snapped his hips up. All undone and pliant in their hands, and the thought of laying you out somewhere soft to fuck you properly was suddenly all he could picture.

“Perfect.” Bucky replied, a grin on his face “Doll… we’re taking you to Paris.”

John swore he’d never look at the pilot’s seat the same again, not after the way you’d ended up in his lap there, nails dug into his shoulders while the jet screamed warnings he ignored. Bucky’s growl in your ear had been the only reason you didn’t send the whole aircraft plummeting. Somehow … somehow John got the damn thing down while you moaned on his lap. 

And then came the sneaking. Three supposed superheroes trying to look normal as you slipped through the Paris night, tactical suits hidden under heavy coats. All to end up on a semi decent hotel off the main boulevard, with a bored concierge who didn’t ask questions when John slapped down the shiny avenger’s card on the counter. 

“Room for three,” he told the concierge, a boyish grin on his face. “One bed.”

Bonus

Feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[snowblessed]

art by k00kiesnmilk (ig)

[dwellstar]

shut up shut up shut up shut the fuck up oh my god

[mimi-maru]

[pinkyshrimpwrites]

Cold Water

Dungeon Crawler Carl x Reader

Rating: Smut

WC: 1.3k

Blurb: Carl jacks off to the thought of Reader (and feels guilty about it).

Carl was sure the water temperature was going to send him into a hypothermic state. The freezing shower stream was supposed to snap him out of this mindset, but it was doing nothing to calm him down.

She had been the cause of this. Carl had been attracted to her the moment she had stepped into his line of sight—and that attraction only grew as he got to know her.

She was sweet, kind, and intelligent. She remembered things about them, and went out of her way to make sure everyone was comfortable—he remembered a time she handed him some jerky because she knew he hadn't eaten. Any crawler would be lucky to have her in their party.

But most of all, she was fucking hot. And Carl hated himself for reducing her to her looks—this was not the kind of man he was. He prided himself as a man who protected women, who watched out for them. This was all so wrong. She deserved better than this, being sexualized by someone who was meant to protect her.

Carl leaned his head back into the shower stream and tried not to think about her face. Or her hair. Or the curve of her ass under her leggings. He really tried not to think about the time she had to undress in front of him, and he got a glimpse of her cleavage.

I'm a pervert.

The thing was, he was pretty sure he started liking her weeks before all of this insane primal attraction urge had started. But now, his brain had tangled all of this information and was incapable of separating her from just constant feelings of horniness. 

Think of Donut yacking on my pillow. His usual strategies to calm down his boner weren't working.

Carl knew this was wrong. He'd been thinking about how bad of an idea this attraction was. He was her leader, for fuck's sake—but his primal brain didn't give him a choice. The rewiring of his brain had made him more attuned to his carnal desires. It was like someone had cranked up a volume knob in his brain and snapped it off. 

He had to get off, and get off now. He reached his hand down but hesitated. One last pathetic attempt to talk himself out of this. He grabbed his cock. He ran a finger over his red, leaking tip, the sensitivity sending a shiver down his spine. 

So much for willpower.

Carl had found himself in the shower after his party had come back from a quest. They had run in panting and covered in gore, and when Carl saw her standing there, he forgot that they had just been fighting for their lives moments prior.

She had gore in her hair. Her chest was heaving, trying to catch a breath from the previous boss battle. Her back was against the wall, head tipped back, eyes closed. She was just trying to calm herself. She looked over at him and smiled. "I'm so glad we're back here. I'm safe."

That was enough to make him snap, and he had to excuse himself to take a shower. The image of her panting with her eyes closed was racing through his head.

It had been weeks of this torturous hell. 

She had become too much to be around. And the worst part was, he knew he was being an asshole to her. She didn't deserve this treatment—but how could Carl let her know that every time he looked at her, took in her soft, feminine form, he wanted to pin her down and fuck her. Taste her, make her cum under him.

Carl was 27 years old. He jacked off. And now that he had the reprieve of his own room, he got to do it once in a while while the cat wasn't around. Donut had made that stupid comment about him watching Hentai, but that was only fucking once. His thoughts were enough to keep him at bay.

He moved to change the freezing temperature to lukewarm. If the cold water wasn't going to calm him down, there was only one way to do it.

He groaned as he pumped himself. Carl looked down at his cock in one more attempt to dissuade himself. It felt hot and heavy in his hand. He was pretty hairless, and light brown hair sparsely covered his pubic region. He knew he was big—Bea wasn't his first girlfriend to both love and hate it. A couple of freckles ran up and down his length, and one big hand was enough to fully cover his girth. 

His forehead leaned against the cold shower tiles, one arm above his head as he started stroking himself. He liked a firm grip when he jacked off. His balls felt full, and he was ready to do something about it. 

He gritted his teeth and started moving. For a second, he was still in his own head—he was aware of the cold tile, the water, how pathetic it was jacking off in a cold shower to a woman 20 feet away from him. But then the bliss overtook him, and he stopped caring.

He thought of her soft, full lips, and how pretty they'd look wrapped around his cock. He thought about her hair, and ran his hand through it in his mind to guide her along his member. He thought about her small, manicured hands, and how they'd barely be able to wrap around him. He thought about how her eyes would tear up as she tried to take him all the way in her mouth, her gag reflex kicking in at his size and girth.

Carl's mouth fell open, releasing a concoction of sounds. He thought about how he would take his time eating her out, how pretty and pink her pussy must be. He would savor it. He'd savor anything if she ever consented to it.

Carl's moans and grunts became louder while the hand on his cock started to falter. The heat was pooling low and tight, his rhythm breaking apart. His palm was slick with his pre-cum, and he pressed his forehead deeper into the tile. "Fuck." The word came out broken. His balls tightened, and he came. Hard. His whole body shuddered with it, hips stuttering forward, a groan tearing out of his throat. 

His seed spilled over his fist, the spurts slowing down until he felt drained. He leaned back, letting the warm water run over him, sending his spend down the drain. He picked up the soap and started washing himself, until the shame of it all hit him at once. 

Carl stood there, soap in hand, and made the mistake of thinking of her, the real her—not the version his brain had produced. The woman who had dimples when she smiled. The one who Donut and Katia loved chatting with. The one who, when scared, looked to him for leadership. What kind of pervert was he to come just at the thought of her?

Regardless, he wouldn't be able to run away from this problem for long. His mind had hyperfixated on her. He was going to have to fix this, and fast. He had no idea what he was going to do other than just keep being a freak.

The options, as he saw them, were all terrible. He could say something to her, but that made his stomach turn. Hey, sorry I've been a dick to you—I can't stop thinking about you naked. Great. Perfect. Very mature and normal of you, Carl. 

He could keep distancing himself, keep being cold and short with her, until she stopped trying to be friends with him. But the thought of continuing to do wrong by her was not pleasant. 

He could do fuck all, and wait for this to blow over. 

He turned the shower off, and stood for a moment in there dripping on the tile. He thought of facing her after this shower. Thought about how she was probably just sitting on the couch, laughing about something with Donut.

Moments like these made him wish he could smoke a cigarette again.

He had no idea what he was going to do. He reached for a towel to dry himself off, and bury his shame to deal with another day.

[hullabaloons]

beautiful (an old iPod filled with love songs) -- dcc carl x reader

you and carl share a sentimental moment in the personal space, and the tension between the two of you finally finds release.

pairing: carl x fem reader (no use of Y/N)

rating: 18+!! very smutty but also romantic :)

word count: 3.3k

authors note: (LENGTHY, but please read!!!) hi everyone. it is time for me to perform my civic duty and post this. i've been a fanfic reader for a very, very long time. this is my first time posting anything, so pls be gentle. i've proofread a bunch, but i apologize for any errors!! i wrote this after finishing book 3, but i've now finished book 5 so no spoilers pls! this takes place after chapter 25 of book 3, so contains spoilers up to that point. also, music inspires me a lot when it comes to writing. there are a few songs mentioned in this fic that inspired the plot. i'll include a playlist here for your listening convenience (not necessary, but there if you'd like to listen). i appreciate you all and enjoy!!

A few hours and a hot shower later, you still couldn’t stop the shaking. It had mostly calmed down, but your hands still quaked at your sides. You had scrubbed your body in the shower for what felt like hours, but your legs still felt like they were covered in viscera. The smell of the ghoul guts, Hekla’s body being splattered against the wall of the train car—it would never leave your mind.

You clutched your old iPod Classic in your hands, the headphones spilling out the top and down your blanketed legs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you studied the piece of old technology. Those last moments at home on Earth, you sat sleepily on your apartment’s tiny fire escape, music from the device softly playing in your ears. You don’t know why you clung so hard to the damn thing—especially when you already had phones, streaming, technology. It felt concrete. Real. Something that couldn’t be taken away. The last tie to your life you would never see again. On the west coast, even the midnights were warm. You spent night after night on that tiny platform, shuffling through thousands of songs and people-watching on the street below.

The iPod was the only thing other than the clothes on your back to come with you through the dungeon. When the collapse happened, you had just decided to leave your apartment  and take a small walk around the block. You couldn’t sleep. Even in the middle of January, you shuffled outside with your iPod and a jacket thrown over your shoulders. 

At the first moment of rest in a dungeon safe room, you turned on the device. Amidst all the chaos, thousands of your songs had disappeared, leaving only 50 or so. It still worked, but you knew it would die soon. With no way to charge it, you cherished the few moments you allowed yourself to listen to music. You listened less and less after meeting Carl, Donut, and Katia on the second floor. They began to feel like family, filling that gaping hole you used music to always fill.

Tonight was different. Katia almost died on the front of that train. You almost died, Hekla did die. Something in the air shifted. Everything felt so real now. Anyone’s lives could be ended at any moment. Donut, Katia. Carl. The idea of Carl dying or being gravely injured sent a sharp pang of hurt through your chest.

 You looked at the battery bar in the top corner of the iPod. 23%. You were about to hit play when a soft knock pulled your attention upwards.

”Hey.” Carl.

”Hey.” You said. He had a concerned look on his face.

”Are you alright?” You were almost taken aback by his question. It was a rare moment of gentle concern.

”I, uh, I think so. I’m still shaken up, but at least I’m clean. And at least I’m not Katia.” He let out a soft chuckle.

”She’s alright. Her and Donut are asleep on the couch. They need rest before we leave for the end of the line later.”

”That’s good to hear,” You said. On instinct, you pushed the still-damp hair out of your face, revealing the iPod in your hand. His gaze immediately caught it.

“Wow! Is that an old iPod? I haven’t seen one of those in years!” His face lit up as he pointed to the device in your hand. You nodded, an excited smile growing on your face. He joined you at the bedside.

“Can I?” He asked sheepishly. You nodded again, handing the device over to him. Without thinking, you just knew innately that he would be gentle with it.

“It was on me when the dungeon opened. A lot of music was lost. I have no way of charging it, so I only listen when I really feel like I need to. It was my favorite thing to do on Earth.” This interaction with Carl was the most you had opened up to anyone since entering the dungeon. You had become close with Katia, but still hadn’t reached that level yet.

For some reason you didn’t quite understand, it felt right. 

His presence was a warm balm at your side. This was the closest you had ever been to each other, besides an occasional brush in combat. He looked down at the iPod and you watched as he scrolled through some of the few remaining songs.

Milk — Sweet Trip

Pink Moon — Nick Drake

Kinky Love — Pale Saints

Katie’s Rhodes — Sam Evian

”That last one, that was the last song I listened to on Earth.” You pointed to the screen. “He, uh, he talks about a long highway. About how he would drive all night just to be with this person, and how that highway became like second nature to him.” A pause, the air thick with tension. Carl looked from the iPod to your hands, then up to your eyes. Your hands had stopped shaking. “It’s a beautiful song.” His eyes returned back down to the iPod in his lap. It looked minuscule in his large hands.

”I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of these songs. I wasn’t really into music all that much back on Earth.” He kept scrolling. There were only 48 songs left, out of the thousands you had before the collapse. You watched as Carl scrolled by some of your favorite songs and artists.

”Listen to some with me.” You spoke, the words spilling out much faster than you could control. You fished up the headphones and handed him an earbud. “Pick something, Carl.”

“Are you sure? You said it’s gonna die soon. Don’t you wanna save it?”

Just go for it.

”There’s no one else I’d rather share it with. Besides, we had a bit of a rough day.” Your cheeks pinked. A smile ghosted the corners of his lips, like maybe he was thinking the same thing. He pressed play on the shuffle button. Tonight by Richard Hawley began to play in our ears.

“One of my favorites,” you laughed out, “I wish the rest of the album made it through. So, so beautiful.” The low timbre of his voice filled the space as he sang about his own regrets. Your cheeks grew red again. The look in Carl’s eyes changed, almost undetectable. 

You had eyes for Carl the moment you two met on the second floor. He was more gorgeous than any man you had ever dated back on Earth. Scary, too, at the first meeting. The more you got to know him, the more he revealed a kind and caring side. Seeing him care for Donut made you feel warm and homey, almost like you could see the three of you as a unit. If you ever made it out of here. If out of here even existed.

Carl was so smooth and easy to talk to with everyone in the party. With you, he stumbled over words, almost like he was nervous. There was no way he was into you like you were into him—right?

“Like you.” The words were soft, simple, and a punch to the gut.

“I—what?”

“You’re beautiful. Like this song.”

Something shifted in the air, electric and intangible. Even sitting side by side on the bed, Carl hovered over you, staring down through heated eyes. The confession of attraction sat heavy in the room. The song ended, and a new one took its place.

Know Who You Are at Every Age — Cocteau Twins

Hearing the undeniably sexy song, the hair on the back of your neck rose. You wanted to kiss him. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole—mind and body. It was then you noticed, looking past him—Carl had put up an invisible shield on the doorway to this room in the personal space. The view outside was blurred and warped, no doubt it was the same way looking in. No one could see what was about to happen in this room.

Time slowed, the croon of Elizabeth Fraser’s unintelligible language filling both your ears. The song and the hungry look in his eyes were both so enrapturing, you barely noticed his hand moving, inching slowly to your waist. Was he really about to—?

You were about to speak when, almost in a flash, Carl rushed his mouth to meet yours. Weeks of tension slipped out of you, your shoulders relaxing as you melted into him. Tension, not just from the dungeon, but from this unspoken connection that had formed between you two. His firm hands held you in place, one on your hip and the other gripping the side of your face. The kiss intensified as you met his energy with your own. His mouth trailed down your neck, leaving hot kisses in a line to your collarbone. The iPod sat abandoned in your lap, your hands running through his hair. A moan escaped your lips. The music continued on, intensifying the heat waves coursing through you.

“Carl, I–” He pulled his mouth off of your skin almost immediately, his abrupt absence leaving you craving more.

“I’m sorry, I—I, uh, is this okay? I just, just couldn’t help myself,” he trailed off, staring at the glistening space on your neck. Words wouldn’t form—you just nodded with a drunk smile.

“You’re the only thing I can ever think about in this fucking place,” he spoke, craning his face back into your neck. “I can’t focus, not like I used to. You drive me insane.”

Every word he spoke added to the heat growing in your core. You felt suddenly overwhelmed to completely pounce on this man.

“I need you safe. And I need you mine.” With the added emphasis on that last word, you pulled the headphones out of your ears, turned the iPod off, and repositioned yourself to push Carl back onto the bed. You were overcome with a sudden confidence. He watched you with those same hungry eyes from before as you straddled his lap. Any and all hesitation flew out the window as you crashed your mouth onto his, pushing you both down onto the bed. His hands held you steady, his fingers pulling up your shirt. His touch felt electric. Weeks of fighting alongside each other, the uncertainty of our future in the dungeon, it all came out here, in the hot kisses and warm touches. You pulled your shirt over your head, exposing a skin-colored bandeau bra that held you together all these weeks. The one you came into the dungeon wearing.

Your future was uncertain, and dammit if you weren’t going to get laid before inevitable death. Carl was gorgeous, kind, intelligent, and a badass in battle. There was no one else.

“So beautiful,” Carl murmured. You sat atop him, removing your bra.

“You think so?” You asked, with that same lazy smile. Another touch from him, and you weren’t sure you could handle it. He nodded at you, reaching up to touch your now bare breasts. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. You’re stunning.” You moaned under his touch, his hands warm. If Katia and Donut were now awake outside the room, you hoped they couldn’t hear through the shield.

Carl pulled you down to him for another kiss. You could feel his hard dick through those damn heart-covered boxers. Fuck. He was big. Of course he would be—he was a monster of a man in size. Between kisses, you made yourselves mostly clothes-less, with the exception of just underwear slowly grinding on each other. Carl looked at you like you were a queen, sitting on your throne, but he took the moment of vulnerability to flip you around, situating you under him.

“Mmm, Carl. Please—” You squeaked out. One hand held him over you as the other trailed down in between your legs. His hand, both firm and soft at the same time, cupped your hot core over your underwear. Without even touching your clit, he was already pushing you to the edge.

“You’re so soaked, honey.” His nickname for you felt like warm honey in your ears. He lazily drew circles with his two middle fingers, collecting the wetness on the tips of his fingers. You were squirming, eager for more friction. Carl shifted, kissing down your chest. He took his time worshipping each of your breasts. He licked and sucked, leaving pebbled nipples in his wake. He kissed down and down, licking his fingers clean of the wetness you left behind. You might just explode with pleasure if he was about to do what you were thinking. Using the same fingers, he hooked onto your underwear and pulled it down, wasting no time in attaching his mouth to your swollen clit.

Your head ricocheted back, hitting the soft mattress as you let out a squeal that was part scream, part curse, and part Carl. Even before entering the dungeon, it had been a while since you had gotten any action. The built up tension, including your crush on Carl, would not have you lasting long at all. He lapped at your clit, kissing and sucking the absolute soul out of you. Your hands found his hair, trying to push him away.

“Mm, Carl! You can’t—I’ll, I’m gon—” He paused only for a moment. He looked up at you with a devious grin that said I have no intention of stopping at just one orgasm tonight. He continued his play, pushing a finger—then two—inside you. Time ceased to exist completely, it was just you two and forever inside the personal space. In and out, you could feel yourself making a mess of the bed. You whimpered under him as he made some of the most obscene noises you’d ever heard. He was clearly enjoying himself too.

With a curl of his fingers, your first orgasm exploded out of you. Stars danced across your vision, and you clenched your legs close together, locking Carl in a chokehold. No sexual encounter on Earth ever compared to this. A kind and sexy man was giving you an orgasm before even taking his dick out of his pants. Your eyes were shut tight, your breath ragged. As you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to find Carl standing at the foot of the bed, naked and fully erect. He had licked you clean, and was now licking clean the fingers that had just been inside you.

“You taste amazing,” he said, his voice low with lust. “Come here.” Your legs felt like jelly, but you complied, scooting yourself down to the edge of the bed. His other hand had wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping at the sight of you. An idea popped into your mind, suddenly granting you enough energy to scoot off the bed completely, landing on your knees in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you into oblivion, but you wanted some fun too.

“Let me, please.” You spoke softly, looking up at his hulking form. You placed a hand on his inner thigh, close to his ass. Your other hand wrapped around his dick, causing a soft moan to escape from his lips. Despite the recent orgasm, wetness grew again. His hand dropped from his dick. Both of his hands reached for your hair in a gentle guide. You took Carl’s large cock into your mouth, both of you moaning in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned. A shiver ran down your arms at his gravelly voice. It was similar to the voice he used when he was pissed off or needed to take control of a situation in the dungeon. You wanted him to demand control—to be rough. His moans and whimpers were music to your ears as you bobbed up and down on him. It had been a long time since you ever went down on anyone, but Carl seemed to be greatly enjoying it nonetheless. The noises coming from both of you were obscene. You silently hoped that the invisible shield was soundproof too.

Carl pulled you away from his cock, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to him. He was breathing heavily, like he was nearing his own orgasm from just your mouth. As quick as the blink of an eye, he grabbed you and tossed you back onto the edge of the bed. 

“I need you so bad, baby. Let me have you.” Despite not even having been fucked yet, you were in a sexed-out daze—too horny to respond with anything but a slight nod.

Pregnancy was at no risk in the dungeon, so when he thrust his naked cock into you with no protection, you didn’t care. He fucked you hard and fast, the pent up sexual tension between the two of you finally finding release. This is what you had fallen asleep thinking about, even using just your own hand and the thought of Carl to provide your own release on a few occasions. It was real, and it felt amazing. 

Your joint moans filled the room. The bed shook as the pressure in your core rose. You were nearing your second orgasm, and it seemed like Carl was too. His warm torso met yours, meeting you for another messy kiss. One of his hands was bunched in your hair and the mattress, while the other held your waist steady as he rammed into you. 

Something in the back of your mind told you this night was far from over. Your future was uncertain, and you all rarely got any sleep anyways. A night like this sounded amazing.

“Fuck, ah–” you whined through the kiss.

“You got it baby, you’re– you're perfect.” Carl groaned through ragged breath. “You’re taking me so well.” As if his voice wasn’t deep and sexy enough, the rumble sent you over the edge. You came undone for a second time, this time around his pulsating cock, still thrusting in and out. His pace quickened as you writhed below him, riding out the high. His release came a few moments later. Carl groaned your name as his movement stopped abruptly. He finished inside you, hot and wanting. The two of you laid on the bed side-by-side, reeling from the intense rush of what just happened. 

What did just happen? You were only ever granted short moments of respite in the dungeon, and you just fucked the guy you’ve been fighting alongside for weeks now. The room filled with the smell of sex and your heavy breathing. Carl turned to look at you.

“I meant what I said.” He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. You rotated on your side to face him. “You’re beautiful, perfect. Ever since we met, I… I just can’t imagine being here in this fucked-up place without you.”

It was probably the nicest sentiment you’d received by any man. Something about the way he met your gaze as you spoke, ran soft fingers up and down your side, you felt utterly safe and content. Like you two could tell the dungeon to fuck off and stay here in this personal space for the rest of time.

“I feel the same way,” you were almost speechless. Still reeling from two back-to-back orgasms, Carl pulled you in for a tight hug. “I almost wish we weren’t here, like we could have met on Earth and not have to worry about possibly being killed every single day.”

“I’m just glad I met you. Wherever it may have been.” Your heart swelled. It just felt right. You leaned into the hug, wrapping your legs around his and burrowing into his chest. But before you could get comfortable, Carl used his arms to careen you back onto your back with a yelp. He planted kisses on your neck.

“I never said I was done with you.”

[heyitanna0319]

bum a smoke?

he walked over to your table not even realizing he was doing it. all he could think about was getting his lips around that cigarette you were smoking. 

pairing: carl x f!reader (no use of y/n. never.)

wc: 2188

author’s note: i sat down and wrote this in literally one sitting. hope you enjoy!

When Carl entered the Desperado Club on the third floor for the first time he met the pharmacist, Quint. He promised himself to never try a Blitz Stick no matter how desperate he might get for a smoke. He wasn’t interested in getting addicted to a drug that resembled cocaine or some other highly addictive drug.

But Carl missed cigarettes. God did he miss cigarettes. He missed everything about them. The smell, the taste, the way they lingered on all of his clothing. Bea hated the things, told him to quit smoking them, but he never did. He didn’t care enough about what she thought about his bad habit. To ease her nagging, he would smoke them outside when she was home, or on the occasional times she wasn’t home, he lit up in the living room while playing the game.

Holy shit he missed cigarettes.

So when Carl entered the Desperado club for the umpteenth time on the fourth floor and smelled cigarette smoke for the first time since the last time he smoked he almost thought the AI was playing a trick on him. There was no way the dungeon AI made up someone or something that smoked cigarettes. The only possible way he was smelling a cigarette was that another crawler still had a pack from the surface.

He turned to a booth in the far end of the club and saw you sitting alone, sure enough, smoking a cigarette. He was at the table before he even realized.

He didn’t even know what he was going to ask you. He had this instinctual need to just be near the smell of it. Of you. And he thought he was over the addiction. How wrong he had been. 

Before he even thinks he’s asking, “Hey, can I sit?” a guff voice asks you.

You look up to see Carl. The Carl. Like blow-shit-up and run Carl. Carl with the talking-fucking-cat. 6th place on the leaderboard Carl. You almost dropped the cigarette you were smoking from shock. 

“Uh, um, yeah. Of course. Please, sit.” you hold your hand out and gesture to the seat across from yourself in the booth. 

He sits down immediately and just stares at your face. No, not your face, your mouth. You feel the pink creep into your cheeks. 

Carl is a handsome man. The first time he popped up on a recap episode you thought he was attractive, and then he kept showing up. Recap episode after recap episode and your crush grew more and more every time he was featured. You couldn’t help it. The deep and gravely voice, the sleeveless jacket that showed off his very muscular arms, the whole no pants thing, and the constant underlying anger that he harbored for everyone and everything. You couldn’t lie to yourself. It was hot. It was very hot. 

But, he was with this new Katia woman. She showed up in his and Princess Donut’s party this floor and you had assumed that she and him were seeing each other. It isn’t uncommon for crawlers to start seeing each other, it wasn’t like living in a dungeon could stop attraction between people. Just seeing a buglike creature and a person completely covered in vines making out in the corners of the Desperado wasn’t really what you wanted to witness after dealing with an insane subway system and demon monkeys, but you live in a literal dungeon now so you can’t be that surprised.

Carl’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, “any way I could bum a smoke?” 

So that was why he was staring at my mouth, you think to yourself. You reach across the table and hand him the cigarette you were smoking. He’s hot, but not hot enough to give him an entire cigarette.

Before the world literally ended you were sitting on a bench at a scenic overlook in Minnesota, you had just opened a brand new pack, hadn't even taken a cig out when everything crashed down around you. Thankfully there was an entrance about 50 feet up the road from where you were and you entered with only the clothes on your back and a brand new pack of cigs. You were the most thankful for the smokes as you had already replaced all your original clothes with items you’d gotten from prize boxes. The AI really liked to give you clothes for some reason. 

Carl took the cigarette from your fingers and put it to his mouth. Oh my god I just indirectly kissed the 6th best crawler in the entire dungeon. You giggled to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked you.

You froze, looked around quickly, and thankfully saw two crawlers on the verge of a fight over a blitz stick, you pointed to them and Carl looked over his left shoulder. “Those guys are literally fighting over a blitz stick and I'm sitting here with the number 6 crawler in the dungeon and he’s asking to bum a smoke off of me. I’m laughing at the complete irony of it.”

“The shit some of these guys would do for a blitz stick is beyond me” he mutters to himself.

“Yeah, like you don’t hit a blitz every once and while. I saw how fast you came over here for one of my smokes.” you sarcastically respond. There is no way this man doesn’t smoke blitz sticks. You even smoke one from time to time, too scared to think about the time when you run out of your cigarettes. 

The blitz stick was nice. It was almost too nice. The damn thing's ability to show you a non-existent memory of what your life would be like if the dungeon was never made, it was horrifying. You tried your best to not go near them, but the thought of running out of your cigarettes made the pull to smoke them even stronger. 

Carl looked you dead in the eyes. “Never. Not once. I will not go near them. I’ve seen what they can do to people and I will not let a damn drug break me.” He got real quiet after that. You weren’t expecting that from him. 

Obviously you knew that he was a serious man, anyone could see that just by looking at him, even if he did wear a pair of heart boxers (you thought they were cute). You put your hands up in a surrendering motion, “okay, sorry for assuming, man.” You put your hand out to ask for the cigarette back, he had had it for a while and you could see the paper around it start to dwindle, you needed a drag before he smoked the whole thing. You only had 12 left after finishing this one off. 

He had the cigarette pinched between his pointer and middle finger and when he reached across the table to hand it back to you, you reached in to pinch it with your thumb and pointer finger and your palm and two fingers were completely flush against his hand. His very large hand. You figured he was tall from the recap episodes. Even when he came over to your booth you could tell that he was a large man, but you didn’t realize how tall he was until your hand was basically wrapped around his two fingers holding the cigarette. 

You looked up from where your two hands were basically connected to his face, he was already staring at you. You quickly snatched your hand away from him, as he simultaneously took his back, leaving the cigarette with nowhere to go other than to fall to the table. Directly into the gin and tonic you were drinking.

“Fuck” you said now looking down at the cigarette floating in your drink. There was no way it could be dried and now your drink was ruined too. You slowly looked up at him and gave him a taste of his own medicine. “God damnit, Carl.”

He burst out laughing. It was hearty and loud and way too weird of a reaction for what just transpired between you two. You just stared at him as he continued to laugh. It was contagious. You could feel your laugh bubbling out of your mouth, you started to smile and then it burst out of you. You couldn’t hold it in and it just made Carl laugh harder. Your side of the laughing fit ended when you snorted and immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. 

You always hated that small thing about your laugh, as your grandmother used to tell you, “stop with that horrible snort of yours. It is so unbecoming” and of course that only made you laugh and snort harder because who the fuck says “unbecoming.” After Carl’s loud laughter ended, you took your hands away from your face to find him staring directly at you. He was more relaxed now, he was leaning backwards against the back of the booth with his arms crossed and just smiling at you.

“What?” you questioned. 

“Nothing,” he said looking down, “that was just funny, giving me my line right back to me. I wasn’t expecting it. Donut would think you are hilarious.”

“I thought it was very fitting for the moment considering you dropped one of my cigarettes into my drink, which by the way, you now owe me. For both the cig and the drink.” You continue after taking a short pause to compose yourself from the laughter and continue, “I don’t really know how I would ever meet her, or your girlfriend, but if I ever get the chance to meet Donut I would hope she thinks I am funny so she doesn’t light me up with one of her damn magic missiles. Those things are crazy strong.”

“Let me buy you another drink to make up for…wait-” he pauses in the middle of his sentence, “what girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend. Is Donut talking to people in the message boards telling people I’m seeing someone? Because I’m very much not.” 

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, “oh, no, she’s not saying anything. I just assumed that you were seeing the woman you and Donut teamed up with, Katia, I'm pretty sure her name is. You guys look super close on the recap episodes so I thought you and her were together.” 

Carl looks at you as if he can peer into your soul, wait, can he do that? I don’t know what his abilities are. Fuck, oh my god, does he have x-ray vision or even a lie decticing ability. Oh my god he has a combo x-ray-lie-detecting ability. He can see right through me. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he did. FUCK, I’m so fucked. 

Continuing to freak out over this man’s possible x-ray vision/lie detecting ability he starts speaking, “No, Katia and I are not together in that way, Hekla asked that she join Donut and my’s party to help her train her skills and abilities up. I see her as an older sister, she is my family.” You go wide-eyed and start to look around the room, not wanting to make eye contact in case he can read your mind. He asks if you’re okay realizing you are actively trying to not look at him.

“Uhh, yeah, just want to make sure you don’t have x-ray vision or you have like a lie detecting ability or like you can’t read my mind or anything.” You bumble out the words.

He looks at you confused. “Um. What? Where did that even come from? Also, lie detector? Who said anyone was lying?”

You laugh to yourself. “No, I’m just kidding. It was just the way you were looking at me. It felt like you could literally see into my soul.”

He just looks at you for a second. As if you had just offered him your heart on a plate. It was awkward and intimate and unsettling and almost nice to be looked at so intimately. It truly felt like he could see into your soul. He stood up from his side of the booth. You thought he was walking away from you and the conversation, you were up out of your seat before he could take another step and you grabbed his hand. “Wait! Look, Carl, I’m sorry if I made it awkward. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You weren’t ready for this conversation to be over and you felt like you had ruined this very odd night in the corner of the Desperado Club. He looked down to where your hands were grabbing one of his. 

When he finally spoke, he asked with a smile on his face, “can I buy you that replacement drink?”

[mycomfortstuff]

DCC X READ FANFIC IS HERE AND ITS SO FUCKING GOOD GUYS