R messing with John Walker by acting like his big cock is smol & cute, and he’s very confused but also surprised he enjoys it
i changed it up a little bit but lskjdgnskjdg hope you enjoy <33
pairing: john walker x gn reader
warnings/tags: sph, very under-negotiated kink (reader springs sph onto john but john ends up being very much into it), handjob, one cock slap, light begging, drabble.
Also made a marvel sideblog lol @mrvlslvt
John sat up in your shared bed, scrolling through his phone as you continued to read a book you were almost finished with. Well, you were trying to read at least. Reading the third line of the page you were on five times before giving up. You closed the book, setting it on the nightstand on your side of the bed before turning onto your side. Putting your hand on John’s stomach, you tried to contain the smirk on your face when you noticed that he paused what he was doing. He was still looking at his phone, pretending as if you hadn’t just distracted him. After a couple of moments, he continued to scroll as you began to move your hand underneath his sweatpants.
“It always surprises me when I feel how small your cock is,” you laughed, shaking your head in faux disbelief. “Pull your pants down for me.”
John did as he was told, pulling them down, along with his boxers, right down to his knees so you had more room to work. You watched as he put his phone down, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he waited for you to do something—anything. You looked down, running your tongue against your bottom lip. He wasn’t fully hard yet; hell, he wasn’t even halfway hard.
“Your cock’s so small, I actually think it’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen!” You laughed, looking up at him to study his face.
The two of you had never brought this up to either one of the other, so you wanted to make sure that even though he’s not saying anything, he was comfortable. Normally, you would discuss things before trying something new, but this time you didn’t. You spat on your hand and grabbed his cock all in one go, slowly moving your hand up and down on his length. He whimpered, and in that moment, you had almost lost it.
Obviously, you had been with him long enough to know that his cock was anything but small, but the idea of teasing him always ran through your head. You were always telling him how big he was (considering he loved to hear it), so when you read about the idea, you knew from that moment on you were going to have to try it.
“It’s a good thing you’re good with your mouth and hands or I’d be very disappointed every single time you and I fuck.” You laughed, watching as he bucked his hips upward. “You’re so small, I’m doing you a favor by letting you fuck me. Can barely feel you when you’re all the way inside me.”
“Please,” John whined.
“Please what?”
You held your hand still as you waited for an answer as he continued fucking up into it. You allowed him to continue for a few minutes, wanting nothing more than for him to get as close to the edge as possible without spilling over.
“Please keep going.”
Although you had a feeling John would be into it, it took you by surprise with how fast he broke.
Which made you almost feel bad for pulling your hand away and slapping his hard cock.
Almost.
“You want me to continue?” You asked, continuing when he began to nod frantically. “Then fucking beg.”
Warnings: kissing?? (not sure if I’m even able to write smut)
A/N: this is a very first EVER fanfic I wrote, so be kind. English is not my first language so there might be some mistakes. I hope you like it ♥
The new avengers tower was extremely quiet and empty at this time of the night. The only sound echoing was a silent patter of rain outside and a kettle warming up in the kitchen. You simply couldn’t fall asleep and you had no idea who or what to blame. Maybe it was because of the mission you just completed, high possibility because of the pain in your ribs, or perhaps of a certain someone who decided that hitting you square in the chest with a shield will definitely make you get down and save you from crossfire. You shake your head at the memory and tap the kettle a couple of times as it boils.
“Probably just mercury in retrograde” the exhaustion makes you blame it on astrology. Funny, you think, making yourself laugh as you pour the boiling water in the cup you prepared earlier with tea.
A sudden sound makes you flinch and almost spill the water on yourself.
“Shit.” you curse and quickly grab a paper towel to clean up.
“How smooth” the voice you know way too well breaks the silence, forcing you to sigh, already annoyed.
“What are you doing, Walker?”
“Tch, I was just thirsty.” he walks closer to you “But better question is what are you doing up… It’s 2AM, you know” a raspy chuckle escapes Walker while he sleepily opens a fridge and grabs a bottle of water. Your eyes sneakily follow his slow movements. The way he brushes a hand against his hair, down to the way his adams apple moves as he swallows that damn water, how much the muscles in his arms flex… The lack of a shirt on his body lets your imagination loose, providing of mental images of what could you possibly do if you removed his gray sweatpants.
You quickly look away and chose to pay attention to the cup of tea you have placed on the counter. You hate to admit it, it even makes you frustrated to even think about it, but John Walker is ridiculously hot. Just as much as he is annoying, actually.
“I couldn’t fall asleep” you finally manage to answer him “Probably because of my ribs.” a teaspoon clinks against the edge of your tea cup as you stir it in circles.
“You’re still on that?” Walker puts away the bottle and leans against the counter next to you with his arms crossed.
“Yes, because it still hurts.”
“Oh, come on, it was a tactical decision. I was protecting you”
“Well good for you” you turn to face him as your roll your eyes in response “I didn’t ask you to, though” your eyes meet his and it already feels like a mistake. He looks like sin.
“Your welcome, miss sunshine” he smirks. Is he serious? A smirk?
“I did not say thank you” anger overtakes you since it’s easier to do that than admitting very complicating feelings to yourself.
“Your welcome, again”
“Ugh, you infuriate me… I have no desire to argue with you right now” you look away sighing in frustration. You are tired and sleep deprived, and for sure in no mood for more banters with a certain soldier. Your quick change of emotions startled Walker and wiped that smirk off his face.
“You okay?” his confused voice sounded weirdly soft. You were used to his sarcastic comments and insults, so this confused you more than you already were.
“I’m fine…” the forgotten cup of tea found comfort in your hands while you took a sip out of it, trying to ignore the man next to you. But fate is not on your side tonight, it never really was. Walker moved right in front of you and gently took the cup out of your hands, placing it to the side.
“I don’t believe you. Is it because I got you hurt on that last mission?”
“Yes – no…” you’re not sure how to answer, your brain buffers momentarily “...I don’t know, okay” a sigh escapes your lips. Neither of you speak for a while. The rain is still pouring outside, a single light far in the corner somewhere barely illuminates the space you both share.
There was always tension between you two and you always put it away as the bad kind of tension, because of your need to punch him in the throat as soon as he annoyed you, but now… It feels different.
“Hey. Look at me” he turns his head to the side, trying to catch your gaze, which you keep down so persistently.
“Tsk, Stop that” you look up to the ceiling while your hands grip the edge of the counter you are leaning on “Why are you acting so…” you pause in search for words “...So concerned. You don’t do that. Ever.”
“I’m not.” Walker clears his throat “I’m curious”
“Of course you are” you huff in response and finally meet his eyes that were on you all this time.
“I’m sorry.” maybe it’s the late hours of the night or the lack of sleep making Walker so open, but those two words are not said in a mocking way.
“What?” a genuine confusion crosses your face.
“Don’t make me repeat myself” Walker takes one step closer, practically caging you between the counter and himself. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, okay”
“What was it then?” the question hangs in the air while your heart hammers in your chest, ready to jump out any minute and do a flip.
“I was – um, I was trying to keep you safe” there. The confession he dreaded. Walker breaks the eye contact briefly, swallowing hard as if trying to push down something else he wants to say badly. You don’t have an answer either. All you can manage to say is:
“Oh.” one word that could mean so little and yet – so much.
The silence stretches even longer this time, all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears, not calming down for a second, a clock ticking somehow even louder and sharp breaths the man in front of you is taking. Unfortunately, both of you decide to look up, meeting your eyes at the same time. His eyes hold conviction, yours – vulnerability. And yet, both hide helpless surrender. Space between you gets smaller. Warmer. Less easy to ignore the lack of it. Walker’s hands drop to his sides before they move next to yours, gripping the same edge you anchor yourself on.
“This is very confusing… You are confusing” his voice barely a whisper.
“These are confusing times, John…” His name on your lips feels forbidden, rolling off of your tongue dangerously.
“Don’t do that” he swallows hard, lowering his head and closing his eyes for a short moment before he looks up at you again. His face even closer than before.
“Don’t do what?” you let out a shuddered breath.
“Don’t say my name like that, miss sunshine” a faint but dangerous smirk curls at the corner of his lips, from which you have a hard time to look away.
“Like what, John?” at your question, Walker grips the edge of the counter until his knuckles turn white. It’s surprising that he doesn’t break the marble under his palms.
“Stop asking stupid questions” he sighs once more, lifts his right hand and lifts your chin with two fingers with tenderness that shocks both of you “You talk too much” and with these last four words he closes the remaining distance and presses your lips together. You don’t move, neither does he, but it lasts only a few seconds. You move your lips matching his in a slow pace. Your grip on the marble loosens and slowly your hands lift to the back of his neck, holding him close and deepening the kiss. John’s hands wrap around your waist, exploring the curve of your back. The kiss is gentle, but full of yearning and unsaid feelings.
“You are trouble” Walker confesses the moment he breaks the kiss for some air.
“You flatter me, Walker” your lips brush his as breathy whispered words escape you.
My loves, you’ll be pleased to know I actually planned ahead of my latest poll for once, and I now have outlines from Chapter 34 all the way to Chapter 38 of Fault Lines.
We’re simmering, we’re marinating, we’re letting the emotional damage cook properly. TFATWS chaos should be kicking down the door around Chapter 39 or Chapter 40, so buckle up accordingly. 🤣🫠
For anyone following Magnetic Attraction, I’m hoping to have the next chapter out either tomorrow or Monday.
I’m also still working through my requests, so keep an eye out for those too. I’ve been taking a little time away from here because I didn’t want to overwhelm myself, but Fault Lines is still posting regularly. That’s my baby. I can’t abandon her for too long.
• The last thing you expected when you joined The Thunderbolts is that you’d end up being the person that some of the men come to when they need to destress. (ft. Bucky Barnes, Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter) 🔞
John thought his feelings for you were under control until you kissed Joaquin on a mission
Pining idiots, "Keep the cover" kiss, admitting of feelings, unprotected p in v sex, Yelena scheming
“It will be ok” that was what John told himself when Bucky announced that this particular mission would be a joint op.
“It will be ok” that was what he told himself as assignments were handed out and it was you going undercover with Torres.
“It will be ok” that was what he told himself even when he felt like a red hot knife had gotten plunged into his heart and twisted when you grinned at Torres and fanned yourself before saying “I’ll be damned. Finally got a cute one” which caused an uproar of laughter throughout the room. You’d made similar jokes with him, Yelena, even Ava but this time it made something ugly take root in his chest even as Wilson reminded everyone to stay close enough to intervene and what channels to stick to on comms.
“It will be ok” he reminded himself yet again, seeing you and Joaquin standing next to each other, sharing one folder of the assignment, reading over your personas. Joaquin was younger than him, a golden boy in the air force, able to make you laugh even on your worst days. He hated how right the two of you looked side by side.
He needed to focus on the mission at hand. Not on the fact that somewhere along the way he’d gone from liking you to crushing on you to being completely head over heels, would crawl on his knees, take out an entire field worth of enemies for you. It didn’t matter. You’d never feel the same so he would take what he could get. Movie nights where it was just the two of you, early mornings before the rest of the world woke up when he could pretend for just a moment that you’d chosen him, not just that neither of you could sleep. You were his friend and he’d never take that for granted or make you feel uncomfortable.
____________
You slipped down in the seat next to John on the jet, cutting your eyes at him. He seemed more tense than usual. Was it the whole joint op thing? Was he worried because some of the other team was here? You would shut it down if they said anything out of the way to him, you hoped he knew that. He meant too much to you, more than you’d ever be willing to admit out loud. You reached a hand out and gently laid it on his arm, when he looked your way you mouthed “You good?” despite the fact that you just saw him simultaneously flinch and lean into your touch at the same time. He nodded, a small smile slipping onto his face along with the words that told you he most definitely wasn’t slipping from his lips “I’m fine”
You didn’t push but made a mental note to check on him throughout the op as much as you could and once all of you got back to the watch tower maybe you could rope him into a movie night.
_____
Your steady presence at his side was both soothing and dizzying. How was John supposed to say “I’m good on the mission but you haunt my every thought” without freaking you out? Yeah, better to stay quiet.
You walked down the ancient stone steps of the city, Joaquin’s arm around your waist helping you stay steady. You hated not wearing your boots on a mission. You had to admit it was a beautiful place. Yellow and tan stone buildings rose on either side of the pathway, the market up ahead offered various fares from aromatic foods to fine silk clothing in gorgeous shades of crimson and purples and golds. The floral vendor had plants you’d never seen before. Had you not been chasing down a rogue mutant hell bent on wiping out this very city it would’ve been a nice day. Well and no offense to Joaquin, you’d rather a different arm be around your waist.
Yelena’s voice cutting through the comms broke you out of your daydreams of John “He’s headed back your way. If he sees you again” “Yeah, we’re fucked” you finished, looking around for a way out, some escape route. When none popped out, you met Joaquin’s eyes and you both came to the same conclusion “Pda?”
He shrugged and backed you against the wall, one hand falling to your hip near the tranq gun, the other coming up to gently cup your chin. He hesitated right before his lips met yours “Glad I had breathmints” you nearly laughed but he cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. His kiss was softer than you’d expected from a guy like Joaquin, he was attractive, a bit of a playboy. You could hear the target’s voice approaching, knew he was on the phone so you dragged Joaquin a little closer, one hand slipping up into his hair to keep his face to yours, deepening the kiss just a bit. You could taste the spearmint on his tongue. He was a decent kisser, just not who you wanted but this moment was too important to make the mission successful and you needed to make sure both of your faces were hidden.
“Threat passed” John’s voice over the comms was cold, detached. Like he used to sound on missions. You pulled back from Joaquin, seeing the pathway was empty. You slapped his chest and grinned “Ok playboy, lets get on it” he winked at you “Lead the way Princesa”
____________
“Walker, we’ll get close on foot” Yelena appeared out of nowhere at his side but John didn’t question it or argue. They followed the target down the pathway, half expecting a fight but what they found made John wish he had something to punch. He felt like he’d been dipped in ice water and boiling lava simultaneously. Like he was freezing and burning alive.
Torres had you against a wall, one hand on your hip, the other gripping your chin and his lips on yours. Your head was tilted back, allowing the kiss to be deep. One arm was around Torres’ waist, the hand of the other buried in the hair at the nape of his neck. Yeah, a knife to the chest would hurt less than the burning, searing pain going through his heart.
Him and Yelena followed the target through before he spoke through the comms, “Threat passed” he needed to get this over with, needed to get away from Torres and as bad as he hated it, he needed space from you.
The adrenaline after a mission was always high. After a bad one, it was quiet, everyone stewing. After a successful one? It was rambunctious, like highschoolers on a friday night. You were tucked into Yelena’s side, rolling your eyes at Sam’s teasing of “I don’t know man… that kiss looked pretty damn convincing”
“Oh fuck off! Should we have gotten made instead?" Joaquin laughed, waving a hand between himself and you. You nodded, “Exactly” Sam winked at you “I’m just kidding. You know I gotta give you hell..” you leaned your head over on Yelena thinking that was it but then he added “But Joaquin’s hair was pretty messed up” ‘Wilson!” you growled and he burst out laughing.
_______
John was doing everything in his power to not break something. He was sitting by himself at the back of the jet. A part of him had been relieved when Yelena had dragged you to sit with her, he didn’t want to explain the fact that he knew he was going to be cold, a bit detached. The other part? He couldn’t stand the distance because he knew the moment he got back to the tower he had to put distance there for his own sanity. He just kept seeing that kiss, how natural it looked, how Joaquin just got everything he ever wanted. He scrubbed a hand down his face, leaning his head back. He just needed to get back to the tower. It would be ok then.
________
The jet landed at the watch tower, Sam’s team saying their goodbyes and immediately hoping on their own ride back to D.C. you waved them off then noticed out of your team, John was the only one not left in the hangar. You looked at Yelena “Where did John go?” she looked around like she was just missing his presence “Not sure” hmm maybe he just wanted to catch a shower before everyone started scavenging for food?
You headed inside, planning to grab a shower yourself and hopefully find John somewhere in the middle. That movie you’d been wanting to watch had finally hit streaming, your plan was to grab him and rope him into an impromptu movie night.
__________
John laid across his bed, hair still damp from the shower. He knew he should venture out, face the rest of the team but that damned kiss kept haunting him. Your face buried in Joaquin’s, his lips tasting yours. He couldn’t face you. He’d wait until everyone called it a night then go in search of food. He had some protein bars and water stashed in his side table anyways so he didn’t have to get real food tonight. It would be ok. He just needed time to get over it.
__________
You waited up for hours, every noise making your head pop up over the couch hoping it was John. When two am hit and Alexei came out for his snack run you decided to call it a night. Maybe he’d just crashed? You’d find him in the morning, could always ask him to watch the movie with you the following night. Wasn’t like it was going anywhere.
Three days had passed since the joint op and John hadn’t been in a room with you for over thirty seconds without making some excuse. You knew Olivia wasn’t calling that much with visitation stuff, they’d settled that months ago. He wasn’t that tired, he had freaking super soldier serum running through his veins and the kitchen was overflowing with groceries from how many runs he’d done to the store.
You had no clue what you’d done. You were sitting in the kitchen, mindlessly stirring your tea when Yelena walked in. She was wearing your ac/dc shirt that had mysteriously gone missing in the laundry along with a pair of Ava’s leggings and Bob’s socks. You cut your eyes up and let the corner of your mouth tick up in something that resembled a smile “You little clothing thief”
She grinned, “You all love me” you nodded, “That we do” and turned your attention back to your tea. She stopped mid step and stared at you “What is it? How am I hurting?” you looked up, tapping your nails on the side of the ceramic mug that had “World’s Okayest Heroes" on the side.
“John’s been acting weird.. or is it just me?” she tilted her head to the side like she was thinking then shook her head “No, he has. Every since you had to play smoochie face with birdie on the mission”
She turned to walk away without a care in the world, leaving your entire axis tilted. He’d been acting weird since you and Joaquin kissed… avoiding you specifically.. Did John have feelings for you too? That had to be the only explanation. “He’s in the gym! Cameras are disabled” Yelena called over her shoulder before you heard her room door close.
You were already up and moving. He wouldn’t let you get a word out so you weren’t going to try to. You had an entirely different plan.
John was working over a heavy bag in the gym, trying not to think when he heard the door open and you marched in like a woman on a mission. He caught the bag with one hand, stepping away from it and muttering an excuse to leave but before he could you stepped into his path.
He opened his mouth to ask you to move but the words died on his tongue when your lips met his. He grunted in confusion at the sudden kiss then you pulled away and fixed him with a glare “Are you still gonna run away now or let me confess?” he was frozen to the spot, never expecting this. “Confess?” he echoed and you nodded, spreading your hands wide across his chest, “Joaquin was part of the mission. A kiss to save our covers and save that entire city. I only want to be kissing you. I’ve liked you for so long John”
Your words landed softly at the end and he felt his shoulders sag in relief, a small “fuck” tumbling from his lips before he tugged you back into another kiss, reveling in the quiet yelp that escaped you before you melted into him, deepening the kiss, one hand moving up around his neck to tug at his hair. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, slipping his arms around you when he felt your knees weaken.
“Too long.. Too fucking long” he muttered into the kiss and nudged you backwards until your back met the gym wall. You gasped lightly, pulling him closer “Show me.. show me you want me” and he all but growled at the need in your voice. “Not here” your arms locked around his neck and he picked you up with ease, carrying you out of the gym not caring who may see.
The moment he stepped onto the elevator his lips were back on yours, teasing down your neck. Your head fell back against the wall but his hand was already there to soften the blow and you chuckled lightly “Could’ve had this much sooner” “Was worried you didn’t want me” he breathed against your skin and you shook your head “Have wanted you for so long John”
He groaned low, barely letting the doors slip open before he was carrying you out and to his room. “That kiss drove me mad” he roughed out, nipping at your flesh, “Hated how natural it looked”
Your teeth caught his bottom lip “As natural as me kissing you?” and he couldn’t help but grin “No baby, not that natural” he made it into his room and you laughed, “See?” pulling him down into a kiss as he laid you down onto his bed, “Only you” you murmured and that little claim made him dizzy in the best of ways.
You took John’s hands and led them under your shirt “Joaquin damn sure didn’t touch me here” you trailed your hands over his body, under his shirt. You let your lips move down his throat, teeth grazing his pulse “And he damn sure didn’t have this”
“I really don’t want to talk about him anymore” he barely got out so you grinned with your mouth against his skin, “What do you want to do?” “Kiss me” he breathed and your grin softened, meeting his gaze “Yeah?” “Yeah” you brushed your lips against his in a kiss that started soft and gentle but grew more heated and hungry by the second.
“Never wanna let you go now” he admitted softly, pulling you closer with a hand at your lower back. “Then don’t” you mumbled into his lips and he finally let his hands fully roam across your body, down your sides, hooking two fingers into the waistband of your pants as you fumbled to get your shirt off.
You were bare to each other in no time, only stopping to admire each other as new pieces of flesh were exposed. “I’m yours John” you whispered and just those three words unraveled him so beautifully.
A short groan escaped him as he kissed you, deep from the start, tongues tangling together as he gave your clit a first circle of his thumb, swallowing your whine. He’d thought about this for so long, felt horrible for dreaming about it and now you were bare under him.
He took his time, fingering you open, making sure he wouldn’t hurt you. You were finally his to claim and he didn’t want you regretting any moment of it. The way you clung to his forearm, fingers digging in, never trying to stop his movements, just grounding yourself in the pleasure, whimpering his name had him taking so much pleasure from that alone.
He was already painfully hard but he had to make you cum first, make you feel good. You kissed him, you made things clear, he had to make sure you knew just what you meant to him.
When he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers, your moans turning into pants of his name, he moaned along with you as you came, working you through the aftershocks and couldn’t help but slip his fingers free and pull them to his lips, tasting them so he could taste you. A whimper fell from your lips as you reached for him “C’mere, need you”
You dragged him into a scalding kiss that you both moaned into as you trailed a hand down his body to help him line up and just the act of you doing so had him trembling in your arms, muttering a soft “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you nipped at his bottom lip “It’s very much happening handsome”
You smiled softly up at him, hooking your legs around his waist until he hitched one a bit higher while his other arms kept his body up, “This alright?” he asked again and you chuckled softly, pulling him close enough it pushed his tip into you “Very alright”
He smiled into the kiss but it quickly turned into a moan from you both as he pushed in. He let out a long, drawn out “Fuck” when he sank in, deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. Both of you trembled at the tight fit, the pleasure, the heat between you.
You barely breathed out “Believe me now?” “Yeah, yeah i do” he sighed back, giving a first roll of his hips that had you seeing stars and holding onto him tight enough he may very well end up carrying bruises from your fingertips.
“Just like that John” you whined, burying your face in his neck and god he really really loved how you sounded when you said his name like that. Vulnerable and blissed out. He did as you said, grinding into you more than thrusting just to be rewarded with more of those sounds.
You whined out into his neck “M’so close.. fuck you feel so perfect.. so good” and he was glad because he was holding onto his composure by a thread.
He came right after you, feeling your teeth graze his pulse and damn near whimpered for you to mark him. You hummed, licking a stripe up his neck then bit down and the moan that left John was downright sinful. The pretty gasps when you kissed the bitemark then sucked a faint hickey right in the middle had you smiling against his skin.
“Like the claim hmm handsome?” he groaned “Only one thing would make it better” you tilted your head, offering him your neck as well “Go ahead” he dipped his head down, wasting no time in his lips meeting your flesh and the moan that left you had him hardening again.
He sucked a mark into the side of your neck and you kept his head there by threading your fingers through his hair, your hips bucking pathetically against his. He grunted low and to your surprise it triggered another orgasm from you both, your eyes rolling back slightly as pleasure shot up your spine, spurts of cum shooting deep inside of you to join what he’d already left behind.
You could feel his smile against your skin, “enjoy yourself?” you mused after a moment and he finally let himself rest against you, arms wrapping around your middle protectively, not caring that they may fall asleep later “Very much so” he muttered back, just reveling in the warmth and softness that was you.
You turned your head to nuzzle into his neck “Good because you’re mine John Walker” he grinned, “Happy to be yours. You’re mine right?” you grinned “Of course, been yours for a while already” and felt him relax even more as you pressed a kiss to his neck.
Joaquin’s phone buzzed so he picked it up to see a text from Yelena.
Widow: Mission accomplished Bird Boy
He grinned and texted her a thumbs up photo back with the caption
“Just glad your plan didn’t result in Walker kicking my ass for kissing his girl”
___________
You were sitting next to John on the couch and heard Yelena snort at her phone. You cut your eyes up and she shrugged, “Funny cat meme” you raised an eyebrow but shrugged, scooting closer into John’s warmth as Bob started the movie.
Summary: Yelena is tired of you and John circling around each other; she plays matchmaker, setting you up on a blind date at the Russian banya.
A/N: Thanks to @witchygagirl for hyping me up on this idea and providing some inspo. Very light spoilers for Spider-Man: Brand New Day, although I think most of us have seen the context for Yelena's "office" by now. That's the only thing from the movie referenced in the fic. Let's all put John in the banyaaaaaa
Rating: 18+ MDNI
WC: 6k (complete)
CW: PWP, matchmaker!yelena, no use of y/n, explicit smut, mixed pov, reader is afab, reader is a thunderbolt/new avenger, john is down bad, reader is down bad, big dick john, pussy pronouns (briefly), size kink, use of pet names, slightly soft dom john, fingering, flirting, bathing, bath sex, pinv, unprotected pinv, hair pulling, dirty talk.
“God, it is so depressing in here. At least crack a window. Why would you come in here willingly?”
John glanced up from the munitions report he had been—up until thirty seconds ago—reviewing peacefully in the shared work office off the common room. It was usually quiet. Usually. Because yes, it was a little drab and corporate, hard edges and unforgiving vinyl. He flipped the page, sighing, massaging his temple as Yelena made a circle around the desk, inspecting every corner, lifting up paper weights, dragging her finger through dust that was not there.
“I assume this is going somewhere?”
“Yeah, somewhere else. Like, take a walk, man. Get some fresh air, or—” She snapped her fingers, propped herself on the edge of the desk, her ass nearly knocking over his thermos of coffee. “I know. I have the perfect solution.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Your solutions usually lead to more problems.”
Yelena shrugged, grinning. She was dressed in jeans and an off the shoulder black sweatshirt, a standard look for her out of uniform. Without asking, she took a sip from his thermos.
“This office is just fine.”
Squinting, she leaned closer. “Your skin and beard look very dry. I have a solution for this, too.”
“What the hell does my beard have to do with munitions efficiency?” he asked. Concentration well and truly broken, John leaned back in his chair, subtly cupping his chin, testing to see if she was right. A tiny flake floated down to his lap, incriminating. He dusted it away before Yelena could notice.
“You’re not going to get a girlfriend with that thing on your face. It would be like kissing a dirty tumbleweed.”
John glared. “We’re talking about my love life now?”
“No, we’re not, because you don’t have one.”
“Nice. That’s nice. Supportive, too.” In a way, a way that he did not want to dwell on, Yelena was right. John did not have a love life, he had an acrimonious divorce and a debilitating crush, which was why he was reviewing pages and pages of numbers at four in the afternoon on a Friday.
“Believe it or not, I am trying to support you. It is supporting you to take you from this wretched place, get you outside, get you into a more…productive environment, yes?” Her eyes twinkled. And John could admit that she was glowing lately, coming back from her long work sessions across town with a spring in her step and a dewy complexion John had noticed you openly admiring, complimenting.
“I don’t know,” John muttered, rubbing his face again, this time without trying to be sneaky about it. Maybe his beard was the tiniest bit dry. Whatever. It happened. He had real things to worry about, though he certainly didn’t want you to kiss a tumbleweed. Not that you would kiss him period, he had no evidence that you were interested, but the hypothetical did things to him. “I, um, I’m good right here.”
Yelena put his coffee down, sliding off the table, palming something out of her jeans pocket and leaving it next to his thermos. It was a business card. She tapped it, brows meeting over the warm, helpless eyes of a parent who just wanted better for their kid. “Go, John. You will not regret it.”
She tried to hide it, but deep down she was soft.
Slowly, he pulled the card off the table and dropped it in his bag.
Yelena clapped him on the shoulder, then sauntered toward the open door. “But tell me if you decide to go and I can text you instructions. There are security measures, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he said under his breath.
He thought he was free to return to his task, but Yelena paused by the door, her voice drifting over her shoulder in a cheeky lilt. “You know, she likes to use my office sometimes. Mondays and Thursdays.”
John straightened up, eyes roaming to the side. He hoped she couldn’t see the back of his neck burning with interest.
“It’s private. Quiet.”
He kept his mouth clamped shut, molars locked hard enough to crack, afraid something embarrassing would tumble out. John had tried to keep a tight lid on his feelings for you. It was so painfully clear that you preferred hanging out with Bob and Bucky, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting something slip and making a fool of himself.
The team gave him enough shit without knowing he had a fucking crush. Like a lovesick puppy. Like a total, pining loser.
And anyway, you were new to the tower. The last thing he wanted to do was make you self-conscious, uncomfortable. The job was hard enough without a big oaf drooling over you while you tried to save the world. He was trying not to be a guy about it, but he was never more aware of his size, his strength, his appetites than when you were standing next to him.
He wanted to devour you.
It was becoming a problem.
“Mm.” Yelena was almost out the door, whispering absently to herself. “Maybe Bucky will take me up on it…”
John’s head twitched to the other side. He was afraid of everyone finding out about his crush, but degrees more afraid of you being alone somewhere private and quiet with Bucky Barnes.
“Monday,” he blurted out, flinching at the volume of his voice. “I’ll go Monday.”
“I’m seriously going to puke if you say one more word about him.”
You folded your arms across your chest, pouty, maybe, huffy, definitely, glaring out the subway window at the blur of cables and graffiti going by. “You are such a prude.”
“I am not a prude.” Yelena twisted toward you on her seat. She had let her hair grow out some, and it was twisted up and away from her face into a black clip. “I’m the one always telling you to go get laid.”
“I don’t want to get laid, I want—”
“Ah, ah, ah!” Yelena stuck her finger in your face and wagged it. “What did I just say?”
Sliding down the subway bench, you grumbled with your chin tucked down against your chest.
The train tha-thunked rhythmically over the tracks, emergency lights in the tunnel illuminating your faces in flashes. You rocked side to side, curling away from Yelena’s sharp, persistent stare. “I’m going to whip you with a venik, beat this obsession right out of you,” she sighed. “Either say something to him or stop trauma dumping your fantasies on me.”
“My fantasies are not traumatizing.”
“They are for me! I am forced to imagine them.” Yelena shuddered, then gagged theatrically.
“I’m not asking him out, it’s too messy.”
“And you’re too proud.”
“I am not—” You groaned, letting your head fall back against the torn seat. “Maybe I’m a little proud.”
“Yes. You’re two stubborn peas in a pod.”
You shook your head. “We’re most certainly not in a pod, thus the fantasizing.”
“Too proud, too messy, so! You need to look elsewhere.”
“I guess.”
“Anyway, today you meet the man of your dreams.” She prodded the tip of your nose with her forefinger like she was casting a spell. “This is a promise.”
This was how Yelena managed to coax you out of the Watchtower at seven AM on a Monday. You should have been curled up in bed with a hot book and a sweet cold brew, biding your time until your training block, quietly hoping no alerts came through to tear you away from a lazy morning. But no. Yelena was tired of you panting over John Walker’s withholding ass, so now she was setting you up and accepting no refusals.
“You don’t think it’s weird he wants to meet at a bathhouse?” you asked, watching a guy a few benches down with a dog poking out of his jacket. “Feels like a red flag.”
“I told him to meet us there,” Yelena pointed out, swiveling away from you to kick her booted feet out into the aisle. “You’re not going to regret it.”
She had refused to show you a picture but described him in enough tantalizing detail to make the proposition a good one. Six foot four, two-seventy, beefy football type with dreamy eyes and a killer butt.
“How did you meet this dude again?” you asked, suspicion tearing you away from the thought of actually finding someone hot enough to end your crush on John.
“Oh my God, look at that little doggy, he’s in the man’s jacket!” Yelena snorted, ignoring you, giving a tiny wave under her chin. “Hi, doggy!”
The subway train squealed, a voice clanging through the speakers, announcing your stop.
“This is us,” she said, grabbing your arm. “Chop, chop, lovergirl.”
John stared at the entrance to Yelena’s “office,” sure he must have gone to the wrong address.
For starters, it was an hour away from the Watchtower via subway. He had sat on the Q line for so long he was sure he was starting to grow moss. Secondly, it was tucked away in a cramped series of brownstones, some residential, others with tiny storefronts selling borscht and dumplings. When he emerged from the humid womb of the subway tunnel, the entire street smelled like garlic.
Blinking up at the nondescript door, a faded sign down the side reading: SAUNA, the address number lopsided on a chipped tile design, John became aware of several figures down the block in tracksuits watching him with more than idle attention. Brighton Beach. Little Russia.
Go figure.
John grimaced and ducked inside the business, immediately too large for the narrow entryway, which was less than a lobby and barely more than a closet. Unlike the street, the inside of this place smelled like a laundromat, like steam from an iron.
A stairwell leading down opened up to his right. Straight ahead, there was a check in desk and window with someone’s grandma in a caftan folding towels, chewing a cigarette, and peering out of the window to size him up. Russian soaps played on an ancient television behind her. From a hall to John’s left, a man wearing a green felt hat and yet another tracksuit appeared, this one red, collar turned up though not high enough to disguise the tapestry of Vory V Zakone tattoos crawling up from his chest.
Real Eastern Promises shit.
He flashed a gold-toothed smile, examining John with slightly less enthusiasm than the granny.
John had gotten a text from Yelena that morning. Somehow, she had beat him out the door.
“I’m supposed to ask for Oleg,” John muttered, voice measured, eyes shifting between Eastern Promises and Grandma.
"Oh. Oh, you are with her. Yes, of course, of course.” Oleg--presumably, but who could really say?--strutted over to the window where the old woman was watching her soaps and minding the linens. The woman tossed John a towel, then appraised him again, this time with a softer, knowing look that put him on edge. What the hell?
John remembered he was supposed to be in an office as he clutched the fluffy towel to his chest, brow furrowing as he followed Oleg down the stairs into an echoing chamber, humidity rising again like he was descending back into the dense armpit of a summer subway tunnel.
But it smelled clean, like cedar and eucalyptus.
Sweat prickled along his temples.
“You are not here for assisted stretching?” the man asked, shooting John a look over his shoulder. “Is shame…”
“Not today, thanks. Is Yelena here?”
“This way.”
“Right.”
Not a no and not a yes. John followed the man deeper through the arched, subterranean warrens, white tile and wooden benches, steam rooms and cold plunges and unmarked doors that presumably led to changing rooms. He still couldn’t understand what the hell he was doing there, why Yelena apparently conducted all of her meetings in a bathhouse.
Oleg stopped in front of one of those unmarked doors, gesturing with a sigh as he gave John another once over, something everyone here apparently felt extremely comfortable and relaxed doing. “Much better if you come early, rounds of hot and cold. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah,” John said, lying. “Maybe.”
“Through there. Shorts or nothing, then door on the right.” Oleg shifted beyond him, patting John on the shoulder as he went. “See you later, my friend.”
“Shorts or what?” John blurted out, twisting, but Oleg was already trooping back through the underground chamber, whistling a tuneless melody.
Maybe that was his cue to leave. John stared at the door, then at the towel in his arms. He had taken a train that smelled like it had actually been rubbed down with wet garbage to get there while a guy with a guitar four benches behind him played out of tune Hoobastank covers, and the thought of turning right back around and doing it again or spending a fortune on a cab convinced him to at least satisfy his curiosity and step through the door.
Maybe, by some miracle, whatever was on the other side would make all of this confusing bullshit worth the trip.
Office hours my ass.
More importantly, where were you? Yelena had mentioned you usually swung by on Mondays…
John forced himself through the door, finding a tidy changing room on the other side. He stripped down to his shorts and slung the towel over his shoulder, eyeing the “door on the right” his new friend Oleg had mentioned.
Whatever, he thought with a shrug. At least nobody was playing Hoobastank.
The Perfect Man was making an imperfect first impression. Late. He was very late.
Your phone hung out safely on a tiny wooden stool in the corner of the pale, arched chamber. In a swimsuit—which Yelena had groused about, extoling the virtues of the banya, of hot and cold bathing without a stitch of clothing as God intended—you checked your phone again.
There was a message waiting for you from Yelena, who had promised to run out for coffee even though caffeine was also a no-no during this process.
something came up, back in a few hours. your date flaked, try to enjoy yourself for a while. if you need anything ask oleg.
It did not feel good to be stood up for a blind date. You glowered at your phone, an itch in your throat, humiliation tightening your stomach. Your skin was glazed with fine sweat from the heat of the baths, and you felt like an idiot standing there in your swimsuit, damp, lonely, abandoned twice before lunch.
The thought of facing Oleg or anyone else sucked. You put your phone back down on the stool, rubbed your face with both hands, and turned slowly in place to face the calm blue water behind you. It was quiet, so quiet, which was dangerous now that your thoughts were racing. You sighed, deflating; there was nothing to do but wait until Lena came back and you could chew her out for tanking your self-esteem like this.
You stripped out of your swimsuit, throwing it onto the floor, the wet stretchy material slapping against the tiles as you climbed down into the water. It was the perfect temperature, warm but not too hot, even more pleasant now that you weren’t wearing anything. You groaned, trying to forget the stress and annoyance knotting up your stomach, letting your head fall back against the ledge. You had almost drifted off into a pleasant, half-dozing state of limbo when the sound of a door closing echoed through the humid chamber.
Probably just Lena coming back early. Oh well. You could work yourself back up into a froth to argue with her, no problem, except she didn’t come around the corner and out of the shadows by the lockers for personal items.
Someone else did, someone very tall, very muscular, very handsome and very John.
“Holy shit.”
You stared at John, he stared back. You stared at his mouth, lips still parted around that curse as a deep, red flush roared across his chest. His huge, bare chest. You didn’t know where to put your eyes. There was so much of him. So much man crammed into a tiny pair of black shorts. Your gaze lingered on the dunes of his stomach, the line of hair bisecting those abs, then the broad swells of his shoulders, capped with muscle that mimicked the shape of his suit.
During all the time you had spent fantasizing about something exactly like this, you had neglected to consider his thighs. Shame on you, honestly. They were thick, sturdy, corded with bulging muscles, just as mouthwatering as the rest of him.
The sight of him punched the air out of your lungs. You wheezed softly. You didn’t know why you were so…surprised. I mean, superhero, serum, naturally he would have an intense physique, but his everyday clothes didn’t hint at all of this, and he never went shirtless in the training gym.
Damn.
But he was gawking at you, too, throat deforming visibly as his blue eyes skimmed to the edge of the water, to where your breasts were mostly but not entirely covered, then back up to your face, that blush spreading up to his cheeks as your eyes met, stayed, both of you entering into a silent pact of reluctant chastity.
If you looked at his body again, you would moan.
“Hi,” you murmured, sinking lower, making sure your nips were safely hidden. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“You are,” he said, fingers fidgeting with the end of the towel over his shoulder. “But not like that. Not like…” John blinked, hard, trailing off into the very sound you were terrified of making.
Tall, beefy, football type. Killer ass. Yelena Belova, you clever girl.
Knowing her, you should’ve seen this coming.
“She set us up,” you said, trembling and dry-mouthed as it all started to make sense. No wonder she hadn’t coughed up a picture for this date.
John’s jaw worked in a circle. “Why would she do that?”
Because I’m so horned up for you, she was about to hose me down with ice water.
“No idea,” you whispered, pained.
“Weird,” he said, still keeping his gaze respectful. You did the same, hating every second of it.
“So weird.”
“Are you…” His attention slid away from your face to the floor behind you, snagged on the swimsuit, then flicked back. You watched the knowledge hit him, that you were completely naked, steps away, that you were alone together in an underground room with extremely thick walls and a pleasantly hot pool of sapphire water. “You are.”
“I am.”
“N-Naked.”
God, it was gratifying to hear that stammer.
You lowered your lashes once, trying to remember if you had ever been seductive or sultry in your life. “Yep.”
Silence. Drip. Drip. Drip. Your legs swished quietly through the water, unseen, your hands clutching your thighs hard enough to dent skin. His hair was getting wet at the edges from sweat.
Again, your eyes met. No wandering. The pact. The silence was going to kill you if the effort it took to keep from greedily eyefucking his huge, hot bod didn’t end you first.
“Warm day,” he finally said, flinching at how stupid it was.
“We’re talking about the weather?”
“I’m trying to be polite.”
“You could get in.”
There it was, the brain cell you were praying might activate and save you both. Too proud, that was what Yelena thought, that you were too stubborn and too chickenshit to make a move, terrified of the mess, of the fall out, of hearing the words, “I don’t want this” come out of his mouth.
John stared like you had suggested a bank robbery.
“It’s a public bath,” you went on. “Co-ed, apparently.”
“Apparently."
You were going to dissolve into the water if he didn’t decide and quick. “Apparently.”
John’s hands curled into fists at his sides, knocking against his thighs. “You want me to get in?”
You dipped lower, chin disappearing under the water. Oh no. His eyes were different, darker, changing as the question hung between you. The shame was burning off. His cheeks weren’t pink anymore. He looked suddenly focused, shoulders lifting and dropping with his labored breathing.
You nodded.
His spine, his ego, was back, you could just feel it.
“Say it.”
This was a real dog catching the car situation, because five minutes ago you were sure you would never have the courage to ask him to do anything more intimate than play Uno or binge WW2 documenataries, and now your pussy was running things, slamming her greedy little hands down onto the YES YES YES button.
“Okay, I'll say it: get in with me.”
John moved toward the water’s edge, two steps, eyes even darker as he neared. You lifted your head out of the water, allowing your gaze to finally skip lower, to his shorts, then back up to his face. “It’s only fair.”
“Can I get in first?”
Giving him shit was a primary hobby of yours.
“Shy?”
Giving it right back was a hobby of his.
John hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his shorts, immediately goaded into the competitive mode you knew so well. Of course, it worked. John never met a dare he didn’t want to toxically escalate, frequently and hilariously to his detriment. But this time, you were both winners.
He slid down his shorts, letting them pool around his ankles before he stepped out of them.
“Hey,” he said, catching your sharp intake of breath. He snapped his fingers, pointing to his chin. “Eyes up here.”
You swallowed a whimper, nodding, forcing yourself not to stare at his thickening length as he lowered himself carefully into the bath. What peripheral vision had shown you made your entire body clench. His mass displaced the water, the level rising and sloshing against the edges. You flattened yourself on the other side from him like you were willingly bathing with a tiger shark.
His eyes were almost the same color as the water, brighter now as he sank down across from you, water lapping against his shoulders as he settled down onto one of the ledges.
“How’d she convince you to come here anyway?” you asked, absorbing the way he sighed into the pleasant heat, slicking one hand through his hair before rolling his shoulder.
“Thought I could get some work done,” John said, in a dull-eyed, flat way you knew meant he was being evasive.
“Uh-huh.”
“And she said my skin was dry.”
“You don’t actually care about that shit.”
“Ouch.” John snorted, head veering back like you had lightly smacked him.
“That’s not what I meant, I—”
“Why are you here?” John lifted up off the seat and waded closer, squinting, catching a scent. “You knew it wasn’t an office, right? You’ve been here before…”
The heat from the water transferred up your face. More and more of him was exposed as he came closer, the water slipping down below his chest. Your mouth was dry again, tongue thick as you groped for an adequate obfuscation.
The closer he got, the harder it was to think.
“You’re leaving something out,” you said, deflecting, raising your chin like maybe physical defiance might give you the upper hand.
John shook his head, stilling two feet away, gazing down at you with cool, unreadable eyes. “So are you.”
“I was supposed to meet a date.”
Opting for the truth seemed like a good idea until John pointed at himself, a bit smug.
“No, dummy, she didn’t tell me it was you.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” John’s expression crumbled and he withdrew behind a half-snarl, twisting to the side, but everything inside you wanted him closer not further away.
“I’m not, I’m…”
John froze, the quiet hemming you both in as you felt the will to keep lying slough off into the water. Maybe you’d lost more than a few top layers of skin. It was the obvious metaphor, but it still felt right. You leaned away from the wall and toward him.
“The man she described…” The heat and his proximity were shortening your breaths, compressing your lungs. “Should’ve known it was you.” As he took another big step in your direction, you sucked your lip into your mouth, gazing at every exposed inch of him. Admiring. “Just my type.”
Closing the distance, the water hissed, resettling around you as John trapped you against the edge of the deep tub, focused again, serious. “Is that right? She threatened to sic Barnes on you.”
“Bucky?” You laughed, throwing your head back until you were gazing up into his face, into his blue fire eyes. “Well, that would be crazy and a waste of everyone’s time because I don’t want him.”
“Yeah?” His voice fell to a rasp; he eased closer, so close you could sense his heat independently from the water’s. One hand slid up to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing across your chin. Fuck. “Mm. Interesting. And what do you want?”
There was no turning back, not when he was looking at you like that, like his personal happiness and maybe the fate of the world depended on your answer. A shy, nervous quiver passed through his hand where he touched you.
“You.” A murmur. A sigh. His lips eased open as you gave it to him, the gift of your desire. “Lena says I’m too proud, but I guess not. I want you and I’m not too proud to beg.”
No begging required. John drew your lips to his, both of his wet hands in your hair, yanking you into his body, water cascading off of his shoulders and yours as you tumbled into him. You didn’t try to steady or catch yourself, just tossed your arms around his neck and offered yourself up for the first hungry swipe of his tongue. He gathered you into him easily, in one motion, taking you to the edge of the tub, your lower back wedged against the stone, legs opening, bracketing his thighs.
“I could make you beg,” John whispered, breaking the kiss to shift you higher, loop one arm under your butt, the other slamming down on the damp floor just over your shoulder. “Or I could make you scream,” he bit along your jaw, lower, kissing your neck hungrily, groaning. “Your choice, beautiful.”
He wanted you to think? He wanted you to decide things?
His mouth dropped lower, beard scratching across the tops of your breasts. Your nipples hardened against his chest, every inch of you aching for those sloppy, starved kisses.
“Please,” you whispered, head falling back, fingers scratching across his spine to his nape to his head, holding his face to your breasts as he teased one nipple between his lips, teeth closing softly, your hips bucking, seeking more of him more of all of it now now now…
“Please what, baby?” he asked, somehow, somehow still using speech and brain.
He was a stronger person than you, clearly, because you were gone.
“Please just need you, all of you.” You were whimpering for him, for a man. You’d think about the embarrassing implications of begging John Walker for anything later, but for now, you were trying to grind his dick into the right place, arc your hips up at the right angle to—
John caught you, held you, merciless and grinning into your breast as he rubbed his face against it, whiskers igniting what he had just made slick and swollen.
“How, beautiful?” he asked, grunting as he sucked your nipple again, loud, messy. The water sloshed up around your chest as you thrashed. “Where?”
No words, just hips. You yanked his hair when he laughed at you again, enjoying your frustration.
“Here?” John took mercy, kissing his way back up to your damp, sweating neck, using his nose to outline every sweep of you between there and your right ear, whispering filth while his grip loosened and his fingers dove through the water to your sex. He pushed one finger inside, breath catching at the heat and slick that met him. “You need me here?”
“Yes.”
“She’s so wet, fuck, she wants me bad, doesn’t she?” John growled into you, adding a second finger, stretching you gently, then with more insistence, faster. His cock twitched against your thigh, agonizingly close; you could feel his heartbeat in it as he teased a moan from your throat, then another. His thumb brushed through your folds, strumming your clit, and you lurched against him, clawing at his scalp. “Does she need more? Doesn’t seem like enough, squeezing me like that, so fucking wet…”
“F-Feels a lot like b-begging,” you murmured, arching when he stirred his fingers in your clenching pussy. You made a crazier, dumber sound when his hand dropped away, hushing through the blue water to wrap around his dick and bring it against your entrance, playing with both of you, rubbing like you weren’t about to fly apart at the seams.
John huffed into your ear, almost letting go of a whimper as pitiful and needy as yours. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“Take me, god damnit.”
He did. Fuck, he did. Pulling you down into him while gripping himself tight, resistance minimal, stretch optimal, both of you falling into taut, silent concentration as he brought your hips flush. You squirmed, not fighting but reacting, your body spasming from too much of him and not enough of you. You’d find a way, carve out new space for him if you had to.
Slowly, you adjusted to him, riding gently up and down, walls fluttering, finding the pleasure inside the burn until the weird, full feeling lapsed into friction and pressure. You couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was spit and what was bath water, you just knew you were soaking everywhere, dizzyingly hot, John’s lips sealed to your temple as he pulled you carefully up and down his shaft.
“So big,” you mumbled, over and over again. "Mmf."
“You like this big dick?”
“Yes.”
"Need it?"
"Yes."
“I can tell,” he groaned, shuddering. “So tight, she doesn't want to let go.”
Faster now, faster because you could handle it, because you were shaking your hips back against him, moaning and drooling, fucked into a dimension where you couldn’t feel anything but the way he was opening you up on every thrust, your body relearning the stretch, craving it, a dark, dangerous feeling gathering in your core, a precipice up to a plunge you feared and needed.
“Oh God, it’s too much,” you wailed, holding on tight, water splashing in every direction as John lifted you higher out of the water, slapped your back down onto the tiles, only briefly breaking the connection of your bodies as he crawled up between your legs and made you whole again.
It was real now, a drive, a snap to his hips as he smothered you with his bulk; you hooked your legs around his waist, ankles crossed, heels digging into his ass, spurring him faster.
He planted one hand by your head, the other diving between you, wedged into the damp, sweaty crux where your bodies met. There was no time for precision. You felt his thumb hook under your aching clit, and you pushed yourself against that calloused pad, chasing, chasing, that pace setting his as he dragged himself in and out, perspiration dripping off of him and onto you.
Nervous, rising sounds spilled out of you as you felt that darkness encroaching. You hurled yourself after it, letting go, shameless and open-mouthed as he worked you back and forth on the tiles, finding a depth that made your eyes cross.
“That’s it, baby, cum on this big dick. I know you can do it, cum for me.”
You clenched, desperate, fingers clawing down his chest as the white room swallowed the darkness, swallowed you, his clenched jaw and red face disappearing for a second behind a pressurized veil. It slammed down onto you, into you; you squeezed him deep, in shuddering waves.
“Fuck, I’m right there. I’m right there with you—”
John grabbed your hips, leveraging them higher, pumping out a few final strokes on his knees, shivering as he drew up tight and fucked his release out with a grunt and a gasp. He shook for a second, fingers biting into you, cock twitching as he unloaded; heat pooled in your belly, your eyes rolled back, his mouth dropping open until it looked like he was in pain.
He came back to himself with heaved, gulped breaths, searching down the length of your body, eyes catching on every mark, bite, scratch, and hickey. Gently, he laid you back down on the floor, propping himself up, over you, still inside as he pressed a dozen feverish, apologetic kisses to your chest and neck and face.
“Are you… Lost myself. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Jesus, that was intense.”
You laughed. Giddy. It was tempting to make him worry, but instead you drew his face to yours, kissed him longingly until you had his taste memorized.
“I’m good. Real good.”
John blew out a relieved breath, shoving his face into your temple. “Had me worried.”
“Tougher than I look, John.”
“We can put that to the test.”
You snorted, swatting his shoulder. “Thought you were worried?”
“I am, but…” He laughed, sheepish, pulling you into him, holding you tight. “But I want to do that again.”
“Maybe in a bed next time.” You purred, fitting your hands into his hair, stroking the wet pieces back off of his forehead, gazing into his eyes when he lifted his head to see you. “This place does work, damn, I feel limber as hell now.”
“Relaxed, too.”
“Mmhm.”
“Worked some things out.”
You nodded, matching his smile. “Things that needed working.”
“Exactly.”
He kissed you again, sweeter this time.
“Glad I came to the office today,” he murmured, easing out of you, lifting you into a sitting position, then up as he stood, hoisting you into his arms. Your toes touched the ground tentatively, knees still wobbly, but John kept you upright, steady against his big, warm chest.
“Very productive,” you agreed, looking around for your swimsuit. “Think those are billable hours?”
“You dirty freaks, I didn’t want you to have sex in my bath,” Yelena muttered, closing her hands over her face and growling out a sigh. You had texted her an hour after you and John managed to clean up, get dressed, and--appetites stoked--wander hand in hand down the street for pierogis. Instead of texting back, she showed up to the restaurant, following your trackers, raging at you both in a barely controlled whisper, eyes flashing. “Now I have to drain the whole thing and clean it. Very, very thorough, it has to be cleaned. I have an important meeting later!”
“This was your idea,” John pointed out sensibly, chewing a mouthful of food and swallowing before sticking his straw in his cheek. “You set us up.”
“On a date! On a cheeky little cute bathtime date, not…fuckapalooza!”
An old couple in the next booth glared.
“If it helps, we weren’t in the water for all of it,” you said, resting comfortably against John’s side in the booth.
“It does not help.” Yelena stole a pierogi off your plate, crammed it into her mouth, and scooted off the vinyl bench. “Banned,” she said, pointing at each of you in turn. “Banned from my office.”
“Noted,” John said, suppressing a laugh, hands up in surrender as Yelena stormed off.
She would get over it. When she did, she would be insufferable about being such a successful matchmaker. You slurped your soda, warm all over, glowing.
“Your beard looks nice,” you said, turning and cupping John’s cheek. “Soft.”
His brows lifted, eyes simmering as he moved them across your face, letting them linger on your lips. “There’s a hot tub on level twenty-nine in the tower,” he said. “In the PT lab. Did you know that?”
You found his hand on the bench, gave it a squeeze, signaled for the check. “I do now.”
reader who is besties with yelena and sometimes gets to use her "office" and yelena telling john no you should definitely go get some work done with her it's very very quiet and private and john just like ??? i get work done fine here at the tower? 😵💫😵💫😵💫
