Bucky was trying-really trying-to hold it together.
You were already moaning beneath him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, your body slick with sweat and your cunt squeezing him like a fist with every thrust. He’d been taking his time, keeping it controlled, steady, even though he was right on the edge. Even though every part of him wanted to ruin you.
He was close. So close.
And then your hand slid down between your bodies.
At first, he thought you were going to touch yourself, chase your orgasm with him still deep inside you--and fuck, the idea made his hips jerk.
But then he felt it. The shift. The drag of your fingers at the base of his cock.
And suddenly--
Your hand pushed his hips to still and the condom was gone.
Bucky’s eyes snapped open, he ripped away from the crook of your neck, where he planted himself to stay grounded, his rhythm faltering, heart slamming into his ribs as you tossed it aside like it didn’t matter. He stared down at you, stunned, panting. “What the hell are you doing babydoll?”
Your voice was soft, breathless, a little ruined. “I want you.”
“I’m already inside you,” his brows pinched as he growls, but it came out shaky, unsure.
You pulled your legs up higher around his hips and looked him in the eyes. “I want all of you,” you whispered. “I want you to come inside me.”
That was it. That was the moment he fucking lost it.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t give himself time to think. He slammed back into you--bare, raw, thick and hot--and the sound he let out wasn’t human.
“Christ, baby, fucking--I--” he groaned, the stretch hotter now, slicker, real. “You feel--God, you-- you--this has to be heaven.”
Your mouth fell open in a moan, hands digging into his back, pulling him down until he's practically laying on you. Your cunt clamped down around him like your body was begging to be filled, and Bucky fucking snapped.
His head was spinning, ears ringing as he started moving again, but there was no control left. No rhythm. Just need. “You want this?” he growled, breath hot against your jaw. “Want me to fuck you like this? Fill you up ‘til it’s leaking out of you?”
You couldn’t even form words. Just nodded, already trembling underneath him. “You’re mine,” he snarled. “My good girl, taking it raw. You don’t wanna stop me, do you? Don’t wanna go back?”
You whimpered, “Never.”
That's what did it.
His thrusts turned frantic--deep, punishing, desperate. You were crying out, clinging to him like your life depended on it, and Bucky was unraveling above you. Every time you clenched around him, it pulled him deeper, wrecked him harder. He was ready to start sobbing at the sensation "Baby fuck you're milking this cock I---" his head falls forward resting against your forehead.
You whine and whisper against him, "You're gonna make me cum Jamie"
His eyes glossed over completely, “Cum for me princess, cover my cock with your cum before You make me cum” he panted. “You want that? You want my come inside you?”
Your legs tighten around his waist as you moan louder from his words your breathing gets caught in your chest as your tremble against him, “Yes, Bucky--I James...James please.”
He slammed in one last time and came hard, buried to the hilt, cock twitching as he spilled inside you--thick, hot, so much you could already feel it dripping out around him.
He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking with the aftershocks.
Neither of you spoke for a long moment.
Then your fingers brushed his cheek. “You okay?” He blinked. Let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh. “You just broke me,” he whispered. “Fuck completely broke me baby.”
And when you kissed him-soft, slow, full of everything you couldn’t say-he realized you’d meant to.
You wanted him wrecked. And you’d get that side of him. Every. Night after this.
♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎
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Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
cw: bottom!reader, humiliation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, degradation, mommy kink, non-con somnophilia, jealousy, dumbification, possessive behavior, wanda is a bad girlfriend technically, strap-ons, drinking at a party, inspection kink,
wc: 6.7k
a/n: i really wanted to write hate sex with an ex-wanda, because i missed my ex…. , but mommy wanda took over 😵💫sorry, not sorry, i’ll always be a mommy’s girl. leave me request of what you want to see next <33 also find this and my other fics on ao3!
You really shouldn't have gone out today. Your friends would have understood; messy break-up, thundering migraine, heartbreaking numbness. Still, here you were, goosebumps lining your exposed legs from jean-shorts that were a little too—short. You had done that on purpose, maybe; you knew Wanda hated when you wore skimpy, revealing outfits around others. Whatever. Fuck Wanda. One of your friends giggled when you rolled your eyes at seemingly nothing.
“Got your mind off her yet?” she teased, pulling your one-size-too-big jacket over your exposed shoulder.
“Ugh, never,” you grimaced.
“Maybe hook up with someone, have a one-night stand, y’know, to forget about her.” You scowled at her remark, choosing instead to down the half-empty drink you’d been nursing the entire night. It felt like the more you drank, the more you thought about her. Her annoyingly entrancing auburn hair that clung perfectly to her heated face when she was just a little ticked off. Her idiotic metal rings that wrapped deliciously around irritatingly immaculate slender fingers. Stupid, stupid, Wanda, and her stupid, stupid disgustingly charming personality. Your thesaurus of internally monologued insults was interrupted by a clink on the bar counter behind you.
“Thank you,” you muttered to your friend, hands meeting the shot glass immediately.
“It’s on me tonight. You know you need it,” she grinned, “I can’t remember the last time you came out drinking with us! Finally you’re free from that witch, and how she managed to keep you locked up for so long is beyond me.” Free is the last word you would choose to describe yourself right now. The only thing you’re free from is the physicality of said ‘witch,’ she still mentally plagued your mind and claimed your feelings.
“Yeah, thank god,” you joked, lightly, trying to disguise your depressive yearning as irritation. You didn’t mean it, of course. You would trade everything in the world for one more night with her. Too bad you had snapped on your last 2 love-sick years and stormed out of the room with a “fine, we’re done.” Part of you blamed your friends; if they hadn’t ‘convinced’ you that your relationship was unhealthy, that Wanda was taking advantage of you, too old for you, isolating you, you wouldn’t have had the false bravado to blow up in her face. You didn’t want to think about that, or her, for any longer, swinging your head back to down your second drink, and first shot, of the night.
“Let’s dance, help me take my mind off her,” you shouted over the music, pulling yourself and your friend off the high-stools and into the kaleidoscope of lights. She giggled and joined you willingly, swaying with the melody. Whatever was in that glass she had ordered started to sink into your bloodstream, and the constant movement did not help. You weren’t a lightweight–at least you thought—but it had been a while since you had alcohol without Wanda, and she never let you have anything too strong. The shot forced a weird latency effect in your vision, the ends of it obfuscating as you turned. Movement blur, paired with the same hammering headache you arrived with did not make the dancing easier. You muttered something about needing another beverage for the ‘nerves,’ and your friend gladly complied.
After a while, you lost count of how many drinks you’d had tonight, but no matter how many you’d accept, the sluggish, surfacing feeling of missing your girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—kept rising. Knowing your friends would try to stop you if you told them about your ‘plan,’ you mumbled about needing to use the restroom, and slipped away quietly. Closing the bathroom door drowned part of the lyrics swimming through your mind, but the pounding bass line remained. Your phone had already met your palm when you paused; before you slammed the door in your face, Wanda had thrown a snarky, one-off line about how you’d “always need her,” and “wouldn’t last a day without calling her.” You had scoffed at her at the time, but right now, it couldn’t be more true; however, you had definitely had too much to drink, and your faux brazenness didn’t allow you to hit her contact—yet. It was for the better this way. You knew Wanda would laugh in your face if you had called her here, mocking you for your clinginess and want for her, even after she “treated you like she owned you” and “took away all your agency.” When you said those words to her, for the same second it takes someone to realize their hand is on a scalding pan, her face had crumbled; after that split-moment, she had given you an exasperated glare and built her mask back up. You couldn’t focus on the memory of what happened after, because the maddening music had seeped back in through the open door. The song plaguing the air had switched from the club EDM to a more pestilential rave scene vibe, and your friend had come looking for you.
“Oh my god, why were you taking so long?” She questioned, dropping her bag on the sink counter and coming up to you. You grimaced at the loud clank of her belongings scattering on the surface.
“Shit,” she muttered, hurriedly picking up a round hand mirror making its way to a descent that would most certainly shatter it. You busied your hands by helping her clean up, mumbling a sorry at her previous comment.
“I thought you had started your period, or something, that's why I brought all this,” she conceded, gesturing to her bag with various objects sporadically being placed back inside. You should be thankful for friends like her, willing to put up with your years of self-blackballing and rejection of plans extended for you. Here she is, still supporting you, paying for drinks. It’s not like you’d never accept their invitations; it’s just the times you would, Wanda would always pick you up early, or make up an excuse for why you couldn’t attend—with the amount of ‘doctor’s visits’ you had been at this past year, people should think of you as chronically ill with an incurable disorder.
Speaking of Wanda, your lips pursed as you confessed, “No, I was going to sneak away and call someone.” You could practically feel her eyes rolling when you mentioned it. With both of you drunk, your friend had held an air of brashness, justifying her next remark.
“She treated you like her little pet, you can’t be hung up on her anymore.” While this analysis of your relationship—past relationship—would have hurt you in any other context, tonight the only thing you wanted to be was ‘her little pet.’ Actually, the more you think about it, the more irritated it makes you. Your friend was right, how could you still be hung up on her? She’d control your outfits, relationships, and even jobs. You hadn’t lived for yourself these past 2 years. To be fair, it wasn’t that bad, she paid for anything you could have wanted, and you didn’t actually need to work since she handled your mortgage bills, student loans, and everything else. She loved you, cared for you, and never put anything above you. Wait. There it was again. That perpetual voice in your head that needed to defend her, always. It was almost like Wanda had planted a replica of herself in your own thoughts, always convincing you to submit to her, never disobey her, listen to her. Whatever; tonight that changed. You had already broken one of her “rules,” evident by the booze that tainted your breath and mind, might as well break them all.
“Remember what you mentioned earlier?” you goaded, looking up at your friend with a maniacal look. She grinned, quickly catching on to your, probably impractical, idea. The two of you left the bathroom, skipping with glee.
It had been easy to get into bed with someone; perhaps your flirting skills needed work, yes, but their levels sufficed enough for a one-nighter. Was it a little irresponsible of them to let you leave with a stranger while absolutely hammered? Sure, but you had all been a little too intoxicated to think right, and you assured them you’d be okay. Drunken lips met, and your bodies folded into each other. There was a possibility, you thought as your hands gripped fiery strands, that you chose to approach this particular stranger because of her close resemblance to a certain someone. Your friend had eyed you and pointed out the resemblance, but you shrugged her off, calling her dramatic; maybe you should have listened to her at the time. Now, all you could think about were the similarities; her overzealous look, burgundy hair, and husky tone. Her hands on you, in you, lifting a haze over your mind. When you reached your peak, you were ashamed to admit how much it caused you to miss Wanda; thank god your face had been buried in a pillow, or else your mystery partner would’ve probably been disappointed to hear you moaning another’s name.
You had left the bed as soon as you felt slow rises and falls in your mystery partner’s chest; you felt a little remorse for ditching, but it was a game both of you had signed up for: one-night, no questions, no feelings. Zipping up the same jean shorts that were hastily torn off of you just a few hours prior, and brushing your hair with her comb, you pried open the bedroom door quietly. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on the couch. You walked over to where you had lost your bra and top before you made it onto the mattress. That restless, expeditious hunger reminded you of Wanda, and you caught yourself smiling fondly. The drunken stupidity in your mind had nestled itself into a faint buzz, still leaving your head floating and a little empty. Before you could register your instinctual reflex, your hand started to dial a number you were all too familiar with.
“Hello?” Her tone was sharp and annoyed. You froze. You didn’t expect her to answer so quickly, especially at 2 in the morning, and you also didn’t expect yourself to call her right after the event that was supposed to help you forget about her. Still, you tried to justify your own actions to yourself, blaming it on the bottomless drinks paid for by your friends.
“Wan- mommy,” you whispered. You knew that title was her weak point, and she softened on the other line, but stayed persistent.
“Why are you calling me this late?” She scoffed. She already knew the answer, of course. Wanda had been stalking your location all night, waiting for a call to appear on her phone; a few months ago she installed a GPS tracker on your phone, which you have since forgotten about. This was the type of controlling behavior your friends complained about, but you never took their warnings to heart. When you had mentioned it to her, Wanda told you they were just jealous, and what were you to do if not believe her?
“‘m sorry.” The demeanor she held made your mind fuzzy; you never could stand to be bad when your mommy was disappointed in you.
You could hear a sigh on the other line, and then finally, “Don’t go anywhere, I’m coming to pick you up.” Your body felt warm at her demand, humming a barely audible agreement.
You had bundled yourself up in your jacket and a random throw blanket scavenged from the stranger’s apartment—hopefully they wouldn’t miss it—and fell asleep against a fire hydrant. When the familiar rumble of Wanda’s corvette approached the side of the street, you jolted awake.
“I didn’t know mommy’s girl was this stupid. Why didn’t you stay inside, baby?” she chastised, coming around the front of her car to squeeze your chin up at her. As much as she hated seeing your blinking dot in some random apartment, she would’ve much preferred you stay warm. You sneezed in response, and blinked at her, dumbly. Her infantilization of you, paired with the high you were still coming off of, brought you to a space where only half your senses were present.
“I can’t say I expected this of you, baby,” she murmured, pulling you into the car. “I thought my sweet girl would come straight back to mommy, especially after that big fit you threw.”
Your head tilted a little, trying to wrap your head around what Wanda was saying to you.
“Is this who my little girl is now, hmm?” Her condescending stare, eyes narrowed as if she were scolding a child, make you melt even further into yourself. “A drunk slut, whoring yourself out to some random bitch, and then having to call mommy to clean up your mess?”
“No, mommy, please,” you begged for her forgiveness, wrapping your body around her free arm. You hadn’t stopped to question how she knew the details of your night. She yanked her arm out from you with such startling force, causing your head to hit the wheel.
“Mommy,” your eyes welled up, "I'm sorry, please, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
“Don’t go around making promises you can’t keep, baby.”
“Please, anything,” you bat your eyes at her. At this point, you were just saying anything to get her to soften up, pawing at her arm again. This time she let you fit your fingers between hers, rubbing circles into the back of your hand, while her other hand turned the wheel.
“The first thing you’re gonna do is shut that whiny little mouth of yours. Then, when we get back home, you’re gonna take a nice long bath and go to sleep.” Even when she was mad at you, she could be so considerate. You should’ve never listened to your friends when they told you Wanda was bad for you. How could she be, when she took such care for you? You decided, on your own, that you were going to cut them off as soon as you woke up in the morning. When you verbalized this to Wanda—to the best of your ability—she cooed and stroked your thigh.
“I knew my good girl was still in there.” Your face heated at her compliment, and you buried your face in her shoulder. It was quiet on the way home with you half-asleep and Wanda at the wheel. She occasionally peppered little kisses on your hand, murmuring words you couldn’t make out.
When you got home, the porch light had been left on—proof of Wanda’s hasty actions. She had been so worried about you, watching your location move to a foreign building. It had been a miracle that she hadn’t driven immediately there, but she knew her little girl would come back to her; you just got lost along the way. Getting you in the house had been easy, but getting you in the shower was another story. When she managed to haul you over to the tub, you fell limp against her, unhelpful and unmoving.
“Baby. Mommy’s very mad at you right now. Don’t make it worse.” You huffed at her, opening one eye against the bright fluorescent light of her bathroom. Sluggishly, you climbed in the tub, still fully dressed. You still couldn’t believe that she had answered your call, without a second thought; you take her for granted too much.
“Strip,” Wanda ordered, raising an eyebrow. You pouted at her, raising your arms for her. She rolled her eyes at your childishness, pulling your shirt over your head and your shorts down your legs. When she unclipped your bra, you covered your arms over your chest, bashfully. Wanda slapped them away.
“How many times have I seen you naked, sweetheart?” she lectured, moving on to shimmy your panties down your thighs. Your cheeks glowed. As she slid them down, she could see a pool of want string down with them.
“Fucking slut,” she said, biting her lip. You whined at her words, crossing your legs to hide yourself. You were ashamed; ashamed at your choices from earlier, and ashamed at how much you craved her inevitable punishment.
“I’ll deal with you in a bit,” Wanda said pointedly. The way she spoke to your pussy like you weren’t there made the pressure in your thighs grow, uncomfortably so.
“Mommy,” you groaned, rubbing your legs together.
“Stop that,” Wanda scolded, squeezing your thigh to freeze your movements. She started the shower, with her still fully dressed. It made you flush even more, knowing you were fully exposed for her.
“Can you shower by yourself, or do you need your mommy to do that for you too?” She mocked, manhandling you into the cold water. You gasped out the title you had been repeating all night, jumping at the sudden cold. Your nipples pebbled when the droplets met them, a reaction that Wanda did not miss. She slid her hand from your thighs, trailing them up your body to your breasts. Her hand squeezed and tightness of her grip made you whimper. Her other hand, now free after turning on the water, floated to the body wash, pumping the silky product onto her palm.
“Mommy needs to make sure my sweet girl is all clean, okay?” she spoke, condescendingly, “stay still, baby.” She brought her palm down to your icky center, and using the body wash as lube—not that you needed any help in that department; you were soaking wet, and not from the shower—Wanda pushed three fingers into you at once, causing you to gasp and stand on your tippy toes to get away from the stretch. She pushed you down with her free hand, until your feet were back on the ground, shushing you. When you settled onto her fingers, she began pumping, massaging your cute perky breasts at the same time. You held the back of your hand against your mouth, muffling your melodious moans.
“Don’t do that,” she snapped, “I want to hear your pathetic sounds.” You complied, a bit embarrassed at the reflexive way you listened to her. The body wash gave her “inspection” of your pussy a little sting to it, and every languid thrust made you more and more sensitive. She was being rougher and meaner than usual, and you knew why. It was well warranted treatment, you thought to yourself; Wanda had always been so good to you, but there you were, practically cheating on her with a stranger you had been just a few hours before. And you had cum for someone else, without her permission no less. The guilt overcame you. You didn’t realize you were crying until Wanda’s hands left your chest and core, and cupped your cheeks.
“My sweet girl,” she purred. It was a mystery to how she even realized there were tears, especially because of the water. But Wanda always noticed. You leaned into her touch, babbling out ‘mommys’ and sniffles of apologies. She leaned your head out of the water, shushing you with a kiss. Her lips felt like they were searing hot compared to the shower that had yet to warm up. If you were in the right state of mind, you would’ve realized Wanda set it to that temperature on purpose, to keep your mind uncomfortable, and subsequently moldable. She has you right
where she wants you, pliable, submissive, and needy. You chased her lips when they left you, and she chuckled at your attempt.
“Let’s finish showering, bunny,” she cooed, washing her hands in the falling water. The rest of your shower went without notability.
You had passed out right when she finished dressing you in her oversized t-shirt and lacy underwear. Your little snores made her almost forget what she had to be angry at you for. She knew you were just a needy pet; all you did last night was throw a tantrum just for her attention. That was to be expected. What she didn’t expect was for you to actually let someone else touch what was hers. Wanda felt like she deserved reparations for your vehement behavior. And look at you now: freshly showered, adorable lingerie, shirt that lifted just a little too high. You were practically asking for it with your slightly agape mouth, and perfectly laid out hair. Wanda felt like it was justified; your body needed to be claimed again. It was only right. That’s what she told herself as she lifted your thighs, pulling your panties aside. No wonder you were so whiny, your pretty cunt was so worked up all this time. Wanda was only doing you, and her, a favor by taking care of this mess. That was her reasoning behind lowering her mouth on your leaky pink pussy. Her tongue pushed past your entrance, swirling around your insides. She lapped up the wetness you pooled between your legs, humming to herself as she did. A tiny crease formed between your brows as you let out small whimpers in your sleep.
Fuck, Wanda had missed this taste. Sure, you had only been gone for a night or two, but she would’ve fucked you ten fold in that amount of time. You had been stealing her life source, her reason for living, when you stormed off. It’s only right that she gets to have her way with you now, she justified, as she flicked her tongue into your unconscious form. You were just as sensitive as ever, legs twitching at each swipe. She relieved her right hand of the duty of pushing your thigh apart, and instead brought it down to your soaked entrance. Your hips jutted out just a little, perhaps a cause of your dreams, and she giggled at your eagerness. Even in your sleep, you chased her fingers. When Wanda sunk them into you, she moaned. You were positively soaked, and she ravished in it all being for her. She pumped and curled her fingers with such lewd vigor and divulgence, one could actually believe that she truly did survive off of your pleasure. Your euphonious moans and whimpers bounced around the room, and when she found that spot in you that clenched your abs and squeezed your thighs, she drilled everything she had into it. Like a symphony, your entire body moved up and down to the rhythm of the tempo her fingers set. She didn’t give your clit a break either, licking, sucking, and circling the bundle of nerves until she recognized the contorted look that filled your sleeping face. Then, everything stopped.
Oh no, she was not about to give her naughty little girl the pleasure of an orgasm, even unconsciously. Wanda had planned to bring you to the edge, over and over again, in your sleep, just so you would be needy and complacent tomorrow morning. And that she did. Every twitch of your thighs, clenching of your abs, and furrowing of your brows, halted her movements. She tightened that coil, again and again, throughout the entire night. At the end, you were so worked up, even a breeze blowing by could give you an orgasm. It was a miracle you hadn’t awoke at any point, and the alcohol definitely played a role.
Coming morning, your hand had met your eyes, groggily rubbing consciousness into them. A Wanda sized dent was left in the bed, and she was nowhere to be seen. A faint aroma of scrambled eggs and sound of sizzling slowly crept into the room, and you would have been excited at the thought of one of your favorite dishes if it weren’t for the massive ache you had woken up with. Lifting up the edge of your underwear, you could see an ocean of need pooling between your thighs. What could you have possibly dreamt about to warrant this type of reaction? You flung your legs over the side of the bed, scrunching your nose at the feeling of fabric rubbing against your icky area. It was like you had been injected with some kind of chemical that increased your sensitivity exponentially. You slowly made your way to the bathroom, a pair of fresh underwear in tow. Your walk was a little funny, as a result of your attempt to prevent your thighs from rubbing together. It was a pain to clean up, as every swipe sent what felt like electricity jolting through your body. When you finished wiping up your mess, your feet led you towards the ravishing smell, into the kitchen, and your eyes staked their claim on Wanda.
“Mommy, I’m sorry,” you looked up at her, covering your hands with your face. You felt ashamed caused by memories of last night, and the anger you held for her conjured by your friends dissipating, leaving you with the aftermath of your reactions. She melted at the sight of you, leaning down to pepper little kisses around your forehead.
“What’s wrong, princess?” She whispered, kissing your ear as she dotted her mouth around. Her breath sent shivers crawling around your spine, leaving goosebumps where they trailed.
“Need you,” you murmured, pressing into her side. She laughed at your words, hands still occupied on the stove. She had always looked so beautiful doing domestic things for you, like cooking or laundry. You’d usually love making yourself useful in whichever ways you could, but today, you held not the same appetite for helpfulness.
“Go set the table, baby,” she asked, nodding her head towards the wooden surface. You whined at her request, pulling yourself off of her.
“Please, mommy,” you stomped your feet. Her eyes darkened and she raised an eyebrow.
“Is that how you want to speak to me right now? You’re in a lot of trouble still, silly girl.” Her voice raised in volume, just enough to strike obedience into you.
“‘m sorry, mommy.”
“That’s what I thought. Do what I asked, sweet girl.” You dragged your feet the whole way to the table, and again whilst laying cutlery, plates, and glasses. Wanda rolled her eyes at your dramatics.
“Mommy, pleaseee, I really need you,” you begged, a few hours after breakfast. You two had moved to the couch, wrapped around each other with an arbitrarily chosen sitcom in the background. Wanda feigned ignorance at the need between your thighs she knew you were possessing, instead choosing to echo your words from a few nights ago.
“I thought you said I was too much, and that you didn’t need me, baby,” she mocked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears. As her fingers floated over, they made just enough contact to melt your mind a little.
“No, I take it back, mommy,” you whined, “can’t live without you.” You felt, in this moment, that acquiring her attention was akin to your fundamental need of oxygen. Wanda grinned at your admission, leaning in for a kiss.
“I know,” she mumbled into your lips, and you shifted yourself onto her.
“Please, let me show you how much I need you,” you whimpered, grinding down, and ruining her sweatpants. Wanda’s eyes glinted, her hand sliding up your shirt, fingers running up your bare stomach before grabbing your breasts with her hands. She pinched one of your erect nipples, rolling it around, watching your body squirm. After she had wound you up last night, almost every part of your body became hypersensitive, confusing you. Wanda, of course, was aware of this. She slapped your chest, playfully, and you gasped at the feeling of her palms rubbing against your nipples as she massaged you harshly. You would’ve fallen against her, had she not been holding you up by your chest; you were practically butter, leaning against her hands, letting her have her way with groping you. Wanda smirked at your pitiful whines and bucking hips, and she knew you felt the hard bulge beneath her sweatpants pressing against you.
“Please, please,” you mewled, any other word escaping your mind. Wanda let you continue to hump against her, her hips pressing her strap purposely up into your clit. Your back arched as you felt it, leaning yourself back against your arms and simultaneously into her.
“I thought you wanted to watch a show, baby,” Wanda teased, turning your head towards the television by squeezing your chin with her free hand, the other still palming your chest. With your face flushed and eyes screwed shut, you could feel yourself getting wetter and more embarrassed at her words.
“No, mommy, please, want you,” you moaned, hips already begging for release. She rolled her eyes at your need, bringing her hands down on your hips to force pressure into your nerves. You groaned, as your sensitive cunt tightened around an ache of nothingness. A part of you felt anger towards your past self; if you had not gotten so indignantly enraged at Wanda over what your friends had told you, she wouldn’t be so virulent to you now and you would be in a more propitious situation. As the coil in your tummy spiraled, slews of ‘please’s and ‘mommy’s began escaping your mouth; your hands came around to Wanda’s shoulders, and she could tell you were close.
“You’re pathetic, sweetie,” she spat, “Fucking slut, whining about how you don’t need me, then coming back and begging for me to let you cum?” The visible flush on your face multiplied, if such a thing could even happen; her words left you fuzzy, and she forced your attention onto her with a sharp squeeze of your thigh, looking into your eyes which were glassy from the fusion of pleasure and humiliation that occupied your empty little head. “I haven’t even touched you down there, princess. What’s got you so worked up?”
Your words die in your gaping mouth and reincarnate as helpless whimpers. Your head was filled with only one thing, and Wanda loved to see you squirming to reach it; she knew you wouldn’t have the capacity to answer her purposefully loaded questions. It’s not like she needed the answer anyway, she hadn’t forgotten about the hours she spent winding you up like a toy, not letting you reach your zenith even once. When you didn’t answer her in adequate time, she released your face, slapping the side of it a little.
“Mommy’s little doll can’t be that dumb yet,” she mocked, pressing you even harder against her ruined pants. You pouted at her words, shaking your head childishly. She laughed at the display, pinching your cheeks. You buried your face into her, leaving breathy whines against her neck, begging for your impending release. The faster you grinded into her, the higher you climbed, but you knew cumming without her permission now would be a death sentence.
“Mommy, need to cum please,” you spluttered out in one breath, not trusting yourself to take a long pause in between each word. It was getting harder and harder to form coherent verbal expressions, and Wanda relished these dopey babblings. She pressed you further down onto her, encouraging you to rut into her with fervent urge. Wanda had to stop for a moment, just to admire you; bare, rolling hips against, exposed nipples hardening to perfect peaks in the air, your eyes, half-lidded, glassy and full of desire. Your need for her was intoxicating, and her fingertips traveled down her chest, trailing between the valley of your breasts and over the curve of your clenching stomach. You arched into her touch with closed eyes, releasing a whimper of pure and absolute pleasure.
“Go ahead, baby, show mommy how much you want me.”
With her consent, a breathy, prolonged cry escaped from the rope of desire that snapped inside you, letting you fall from your compulsive hunger; it felt like you had been thrown over a mountainside that had rivaled the heights of Olympus, soaring through the sky to land into the arms of your lover. Your hands dug into her shoulders, causing little crescent shapes to embed into her skin. Wanda reached around your back, nestling her hand in between sweaty strands of your hair. She pulled back softly, bringing your face to hers. It drove her mad, to think about you with another; she met your lips with indignation, leaving sloppy, open-mouth kisses to claim your shaking form. Your hips slowed, almost to a halt if it were not for the sporadic jolts of aftershocks from your orgasm.
Wanda stilled your hips, pressing her hands around you. You had expected her to bring you down carefully, peppering little kisses around your face, praising you, like she always did. Unfortunately for you, she was not in that kind of mood. Instead, reaching under you, she flipped the band of her drenched sweatpants down, revealing her strap. In one swift moment, before your dumb, empty little brain could even register what was happening, she pulled your panties to the side and her cock into your hole. You squeaked when she pushed into you halfway, crying out and crumpling forward onto her. The feeling of her length engulfed your senses entirely, forcing your focus to one burning point of desire.
“W-Wanda, wait, stop,” you whined, complaints muffed by her chest, “it’s too much.”
“Mommy,” she corrected with a hiss against your cheek, “isn’t done yet.”
“Mommy,” you sobbed, grabbing to cling to her arms, or to anything really, as she sank herself further into you. Your stature crumbles under the weight of her looming desire, unable to produce even a single thought as you lose yourself to the sensation of her.
“You’ll take what I give you, baby,” she hissed, “This is what you asked for, isn’t it?” You nodded, biting your lip and looking up at her through fear pricked eyelashes, fully resting on her hilt. Her hands moved to position both of you upright. Now, your hands were shaking on her shoulders, and hers gripping on your hips. She set an awful starting pace, lifting you up and down her cock, each impact grinding the straps base into her clit. You had whimpered at each movement, feeling fuller than you had ever felt before. Your head lolled forward, onto her shoulder, hiding your flush from her. In this position, your cute whimpers traveled straight into Wanda’s ears, fueling her need even more. It would be a tragedy to compare anything to the sweet heat of your aching cunt clenching around her.
“Slower please, mommy,” you pleaded, trying to push her hands off your waist. She trapped your wrists behind your lower back, with one hand, while the other guided your hips to roll at a faster pace. “Don’t fucking fight me, baby. You don’t get to, not after that fit you threw. Just be a good girl, and let mommy use your tight little pussy.”
You whined at her vulgarity, leaning further into her, now fully supported by her shoulders. Willing everything in yourself to be a good girl and take your mommy’s cock, you start to move your hips with her hand. You sat at the precipice of pain and ecstasy, pleasure building inside of you as your walls cave in on Wanda’s length. It truly felt as if you were being split into two, and, to the best of your ability, you voiced your concerns to Wanda.
“Too much, it hurts mommy, please stop,” you spluttered, gasping and screwing your eyes together tightly at the intense discomfort that disguised itself in pleasure.
“Mommy will decide when it’s too much for you, baby,” Wanda hissed. You had no choice but to accept her decree, but still let out a whine in complaint. She bucked up a little harsher in response. Wanda’s hand released your arms, trailing around your waist and across your tummy to grope at your bouncing breasts harshly and callously. You deserved a worse punishment, in her opinion, leaving her and running away to slut yourself off to some whore at a bar; she bet you never even caught the stranger’s name, but shit, did you feel addicting. Lost in her own thoughts formed by the synthesis of her outrage and craving, she pushed you over, onto your back to reach a deeper part of you. From on top, she was able to thrust harder with more fervor. Your wanton moans echo around the room, hands gripping the material beneath you. The slick sound of sex and the stringing stickiness of your mixed fluids would have embarrassed you in another mindset, but now, you were just as lost in the desire as Wanda was; the intoxicating feeling of intimacy overwhelmed your senses. Each plunge of herself into you loosened your cunt until there was barely any resistance; as you became accustomed to her size, your whines grew lewdly in volume. With your clammy hands, you clung to her, and every time your pussy took her to her hilt, you let out little whines, raking your nails across her back. Your mind felt higher than any drug could have ever taken you, pleasure obscuring any real thought you might have mustered up. She dropped to lean on her elbows, trapping you between her forearms.
“My cute brainless fucktoy, aren’t you?” Wanda cooed into your ear, and you nodded your head into her neck; you would've nodded at anything she said, incapable of much else in that moment. Wanda’s breathy moans had picked up their frequency, and you knew she was grinding against the strap’s base as she fucked you; the thought of her using you as just an object for her own pleasure caused your cunt to tense around her, your wetness seeping out between the two of you. “My sweet girl, you feel so tight,” she muttered from behind you, hands fitting themselves around your waist, using your hips as leverage to rut into you rougher. The feeling of her desperate desire rivaled any other, and you felt as if she were trying to melt her soul into yours. Pleasure ran wild in your bloodstream and nerves, firing like crazy, random, and then surging back to one pure point as she rounded your hip to draw circles against your clit. You could hear a gasp, distantly, not quite sure if it was yours from pleasure or hers from the shock of your wetness; your muscles gathered and trembled in transfixed purpose, her fingers and cock prying moan after moan from your lips. You could feel the familiar coil in your tummy, tightening once again, stronger than it had ever before; Wanda could feel the same.
“Gonna cum again, mommy,” you cried, as you buried your face into the side of her arm. Your forehead pressed against her, and you melted into the light bounce of the couch beneath the two of you. Wanda’s grunts collected against the side of your head as she grew ever closer to her own high. Without uttering a single word, she met your lips again, pressing into passionately. Your mouths locked together, burning, blissful, and mind-numbing. It had felt like a kiss for an eternity, void of time or oxygen. When she pulled away, your steamy, half-lidded stare incited a deep, fervent need within her. You could feel the bruise on your cervix forming as her tempo increased. You knew she was closing in on her climax, and you wanted nothing more than to feel the fall with her. You stammered out incomplete words, in an attempt to declare your proximity to your orgasm.
The multiverse, and everything in it, ceased to exist in the very moment Wanda’s permission whispered into your ear.
Your legs wrapped around her tightly, and then it washed over you like a wave crashing onto the shore. As you came down from your peak, the wave pulled back, dragging the pleasure out from your core into every limb, every hair on your body, all the way out to your fingertips. The same gratification sank through Wanda, relief from the ache building in her center caused white-hot pleasure to blind her vision. She plummeted from her apex, hands gripping the cushions below you.
When you both came to, tangled around each other, heavy breathing, and spent bodies, Wanda smiled at you. The love you felt for her in that moment was physically painful, and you brought your hands up to melt into another kiss. “My sweet girl, I love you,” Wanda murmured into your lips, as she fell into your embrace.
Your life, soul, body, and mind belonged to her, and her alone. You’d never leave her side again.
Summary: You’re helping the Fantastic Four create a strategy for a new threat, and your boyfriend Johnny is bored out of his mind. He decides to try and fire you up to heat up the meeting.
Warnings: dom!Johnny, hair pulling, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap<3), dirty talk, prob lightly ooc Johnny but it’s okay lol
No spoilers for The Fantastic Four First Steps! It takes place during Doomsday (hopefully <3)
The new threat in New York has both your team, The New Avengers, and your boyfriend’s, The Fantastic Four, working together strenuously to plot a strategy to save the city. Everyone’s working hard, putting their ideas together and talking amongst their teams to discuss the best course of action. The New Avengers, (or Thunderbolts, Bob still doesn’t know which exactly to call your group), are at the Watchtower, going over their own plans. As for you? You’re at the Baxter Building relaying your own team’s information with the Fantastic Four, working alongside them to merge both routes together to tweak some small bumps around. It’s all very, very important, and you’re extremely focused and intrigued.
And Johnny couldn’t be more bored.
He’s sat in the chair directly across from where you stood, his eyes not leaving you. You’re standing between Reed and Sue, the squeaking of his marker making Johnny close his eyes in disagreement. It’s so antagonizing just.. knowing each frantic erase meant adding more time to the meeting. You felt heat on your back, sending a shiver through your body. Ben glances at you, opening his mouth to comment on your sudden movement, but shut his mouth. Maybe you just got a chill?
Your eyes flicker up as Reed spoke, looking at Johnny. He’s slouched in the chair, legs spread with his head tilted to the side a little. One elbow is propped up on the armrest, fiddling with a paperclip, and the other arm is laid on his lap lazily. His eyes are locked, glaring as he focused on you. He looked like he commanded the room, he radiated power. Power he used on you.
Reed hums, another idea coming to him, because of course it is. He’s only the smartest man in the universe. “So, if we take this route, we run the risk of getting intercepted from the one way exit. It’s easy and secure until we get there. Anyone have any ideas they would like to add?”
You cleared your throat, preparing to propose another idea, “We could split up. If we get intercepted, at least it wouldn’t be all of us. This way, the others could come around and hit them from behi-,” your voice catches, cutting you off as warmth caresses your inner thigh. Your eyes closed, mouth snapping shut to prevent yourself from moaning in front of the team. “Honey, are you okay? Do you need some water?,” Sue comments, placing a hand on your shoulder. You took a deep breath, before looking to her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just feeling a little under the weather. Thank you though,” you lie, giving her a grateful look. You felt horrible lying to her, knowing her genuine concern for you, but you couldn’t let anyone, let alone her, know that her brother was teasing you during a very important meeting. She nods, returning the smile before both of you move your eyes back to the map in front of you. You take one more glance up to Johnny, who’s now looking to the ground as he now spun a pen around in his fingers. He’s pretending to be bored by it all, but he’s now heavily intrigued in this meeting as he tries to to get you hot and bothered.
He’s succeeding.
He knows he is.
It’s not like he’s never saw you like this. Just this time, it’s more interesting to see you revel under his touch, as you try to shrug it off.
“I like that idea. The next time they come back, we’ll be ready for them. I appreciate you and your team working with us, you’ve been more than helpful. Now, about sending a few of us through this building— what are your plans to hit them in the dark?,” Reed asks, now switching to a tablet, showing the blueprints to a warehouse. One where you plan for Yelena, Ava, and Walker to take out a group in the dark. Your body has calmed down, your voice now strong again as you point at the tablet.
“If we send Ghost through here, she can hit the transmission and knock the power out. I’ve read up on the building’s power lines. If she does it correctly, we’re looking at the power being rerouted. It would take at least 3 minutes for the generator to start up, and the alarms wouldn’t trigger if we cut the wire to them first. Saying she does this right, it would give Yelena and Walker time to take them out in the dark, significantly lessening the blow on the rest of us. I’ve seen their work before in a similar situation, at an O.X.E facility. They’re perfectly capable for a job like this,” your voice firm, confident in your team as you pitched the idea to him. Reed nods his head, tapping his fingers on the table. Sue and Ben exchange a look of approval, trusting your judgment.
“Are we looking at any guards? Anything possibly unprecedented that we should take into consideration?” You nod at Reed, before zooming into the map. “This building, last year, had some suspicious activity. There were some guards that came and went. Some days there were none, others rotated ever so often. Just last month, I spotted a handful of them going in and out. Their gear was unmarked, but,” you voice falters. Heat ignited between your legs, right at your core, making you grip the table and shut your eyes tight. “Are you okay? It seems like you’re not doing the best,” Ben comments. He’s noticed your moments of weakness during the meeting, but after three times it’s more concerning than he thought. Through clouded eyes from the tears threatening to fill your eyes from the stimulation, you look at him and nod. He stares at you for a moment, before turning around to grab a thermos of water. You looked at Johnny, who’s looking at you blankly, eyes slightly dark, and he mouths:
“Keep. Talking.”
The rest of the team are busy looking through files, giving you time to mouth a reply back.
“Stop. Teasing. Me.”
He smirks, tapping his foot slightly.
“Make me. I dare you.”
You shake your head in frustration. He won’t back down. He’s going to tease you until this hell of a meeting ends. No one noticed how your hands grip the table so tight that it creaks and your knuckles turn white, or how you’d unconsciously made a face of pleasure as you looked down at the map again.
Well, Johnny noticed. And it made him want to make you suffer more.
Your legs pressed together, feeling the warmth from before travel in circles around your center. You looked back at him from the table, noticing the pen from before was now bit between his teeth, as a small flame came from his fingers in your direction, slowly making the motions of rubbing you. He stood up from his chair, placing the pen on the desk beside him, before walking around the table and behind you. He reached around you, hand extending to grab a sheet on the table, as his other slides around your hip and into your pants, going between your legs. His fingers rub slow, painful circles around your clothed pussy as he keeps the façade of reading up. His breath was hot on your neck, kissing the shell of your ear before whispering:
“That’s it, baby. Be good for me. You’re so wet. Interrupt the meeting or have attitude with me again, and I’ll drag you right out of here to remind you how to listen to me.”
A small moan escapes you without warning, and he kisses your neck before harshly cupping your center, then removing his hand from you. He takes the papers he was “looking at” back to his chair, propping himself up again in the same way he was before: one hand preoccupied as the other was free, ready to tease you again at any moment. Your knees buckled, yearning for his touch to come back to you. Everyone else was heavily into looking through files, talking amongst themselves. You could be helping them, but there’s no way you’re in the right mind to do so. Not when you’ve got Johnny Storm, the universe’s hottest man, watching you like your prey as he thrives in your agony. Just as you thought he was done teasing you for now, the heat against your core returned. You’re struggling to keep quiet, knowing you cannot give into this. A smirk formed on his mouth as he watched you writhe oh-so-subtlety, your eyes following each movement his fire-lit fingers made. You’re lucky your knees haven’t given out, and that everyone is still looking through their plans and information. You looked at him again, eyes glaring before you rolled them, pleasure and frustration taking over. Johnny’s flame extinguished, hand moving to take the pen out of his mouth. His smirk falls, and he ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’s at you, shaking his head. Now you’ve gotten more attitude with him, and he told you what he’d do. He placed the paper beside him on the desk, moving to stand up. Then, he stops.
“We’re missing some files, Reed. I’ll have to go through the system and see what I can find,” Sue interrupts the silence, turning around. Ben agrees, with some of the blueprints he’d been going through being too outdated to be a trustworthy piece of data. Reed nods again, before clearing his throat.
“Alright, we’ll call it for now. Everyone, do what you can to find more up-to-date information and layouts. Meet back here tonight around 8,” he declared, his leadership coursing through this voice. He pushed his glasses up, before grabbing the tablet and folder with one hand, and reaching the other out to Sue to guide her to the office. Ben follows suit, taking a thick portfolio with him, heading off to the another part of the Baxter Building. The door shuts, the silence was deafening. The chair creaked as Johnny stood up, making his way over to you. You turn so your back is against the table, though not looking at him.
“You’ve got an attitude today, huh?,” his voice calm, concerningly calm as he stood in front of you. Instead of playing into his words, you let some of your frustration take hold of your actions and you ignore him. You move from the table, walking away from him and towards the door. You don’t hear him coming up behind you, until the door slams shut before you could make it through the frame. You turn to face him, and his body is so close to you that you’re practically pressed against his. He locks the door, sliding the hand up your body and around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, it’s not a tight grip. It’s a reminder of who’s in charge. It’s warm, passionate, controlling.
“I told you to keep that attitude in check, didn’t I?”
He pushed against your neck a little more, the slightest ounce of pressure now tightening your airways.
“You want to go against my orders? You better be ready to take what comes with it, sweetheart.”
Thoughts run in your mind. You could answer him and let him take you now, ending your desire for him after the tantalizing hour-long meeting— or, you could keep being a brat to him to see what really pushes him over the edge. Yeah, that seems like the right one. Your eyes glare at him, “I don’t have to listen to you. It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands off me. You even have to use your powers against me because you can’t help yourself.”
“Oh, honey, I know how to keep my hands to myself. There you were, so damn interested in your little plan, I just had to make it interesting for me,” his voice low, face dangerously close to yours. So close, you could kiss him with the slightest movement of your head. But you’re not going to. You’ve got more fight in you.
“I tried to ignore you. I told you to quit teasing me.”
“And I told you to behave or else.”
“Yeah. Or else what?”
That was it. That pushed him. His other hand grabbed your wrist, holding it tightly above your head, as the hand around your neck pressed even tighter.
“You really want to find out, princess? Because right now, I really want to bend you over that table and fuck some sense into you.. remind you who you belong to and who you’re gonna listen to. All because you didn’t want to behave today,” he growled, voice darker than you’d ever heard it sound. He let go of the hand holding your wrist, moving it down to your pants to start unbuttoning them. Maybe one more snarky reply wouldn’t hurt.
“It’s not my fault you have no self control.” His hand left your neck and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look straight into his eyes. “I’d be real careful if I were you, sweetheart. You keep it up and I’ll have the entire building know how much of a brat you’re being.” Your eyes stare into his darkened orbs, the look matching his intimidating one. The hold on your jaw tightens, stopping you from sneaking another remark in. “You really want me to stop teasing you? Fine. You asked for it.”
He picks you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the table in the middle of the meeting room. He basically throws you down on the table, face first. Your hands are beside your head, reaching straight out in front of you. He makes quick work of your pants and underwear, pushing them down in one solid move. He glides his hands up your waist, up to your arms to grab you by the wrists. With one hand, he holds them behind your back.
“Think you can listen to me now?”
You shake your head no. His snarls are loud, and you could swear you felt his body temperature raise. The grip holding your wrists together stays steady, but his movements stop. It was silent, too silent. You turned your head to look back at him, before feeling his hand push your head back down. His breathing slowly got louder, matching your racing heartbeat. He’s thinking about something. Then, he huffs.
His palm lands on your bare ass with a loud, sharp crack. It burns, but not the way a normal slap does. He smacked your ass while his hand was ablaze.
“Count,” he demanded, the words falling from his mouth were laced with desire.
The smack burned, the pain of the hit made it worse. You couldn’t really process it, before he spoke again.
“Count,” he ordered again, voice deeper as he felt anticipation charging in his veins.
“One,” you finally muttered out, teeth gritted together.
“Louder. I can’t hear you.”
“One.” You spoke with as much stability as you could muster.
“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing the red print on your ass.
With each strike, his hand warmed more and more, and the pain was almost too much, but not enough that it wasn’t still the hottest punishment you’d ever received. Literally.
By the 6th smack, your voice had fallen to a light whimper. You can almost tell the way he’s looking at you with each hit. There’s no smirk, no smile. Just a focused look on you, mouth open in admiration for how you’re doing as he says, with his teeth gritting after he landed each one.
“Now you’re behaving me, huh?,” he bends over your back, lips close to your ear, “It’s a little too late for that, sweetheart.”
He leans back up, rubbing his warm hand over the prints he’d left on you, light burns and palm shaped welp marks overlapping each other.
“Now, you’re gonna keep listening to me, correct?”
You nod quickly, eager for his next move.
“You’re not going to come until I say you can. Not until you tell me who you belong to. Do you understand?” His voice is strong. Commanding. Controlling.
The sheer power in his voice brought shivers back down your spine. He’d never been this dominant. Sure, there were times, more often than not, that he had control over you in the bedroom. That was just Johnny’s nature. But this? You have yourself to blame for this. Had you just listened, he’d not been this powerful over you. Not to say that’s a bad thing, not at all. Hell, you were enjoying this.
Your breath is shaky, not really having it in you to respond.
“Hmm? Do you?”
You nod you head, but that’s not enough for Johnny.
He lets go of your wrists and at the same time, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you harshly up to him.
“Say it.”
“J-Johnny..”
Another harsh smack to your ass, hotter than the previous ones.
“Say. It.”
“I’m yours, Johnny. Only yours. I’m yours..” you quickly whimper out, the whiniest and most pathetic your voice has sounded the entire night.
“There it is. Now, you’re gonna take your punishment like a good girl.”
He unzipped his pants, pulling them, alongside his underwear, down to his ankles.
He rubbed his cock a few times before lining it up with your absolutely soaked pussy. As he pushed in, the heat from his body had you clench around him, your exposed core was cold in comparison. He pushed your head back down, grip never faltering on your hair. His other hand holds onto your hips, bracing himself so his thrusts hit as hard and as deep as he could possible get them to go.
“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, each thrust hitting that spot. Your hands reach to grab something to hold onto, one finding some sheets of paper to grip and the other holds one of Johnny’s wrists as they’re holding tight onto your hair. Your moans are more whiny than anything, showing Johnny just how desperate you were for this.
“That’s it, baby. Take it all for me. That’s good,” he praises, disguising his moans with the words. You could barely make what he said out over the sound of your uncontrollable whines of pleasure.
He gripped ever so slightly tighter on your hair, using it as a reign to pull your body into each of his thrusts. Fuck, does he want to make you come now, but he also wants to tease you just a little more.
He pulls out of you, causing you to let out a sad moan, immediately missing the feeling of how he felt.. He tugged on your hair, bringing your weak body to a stand. Letting go, he turned you around to face him, lifting your arms, and removing your shirt before taking his own off. His eyes scan up and down your exposed chest, revealing in the beauty before him. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to sit in the table.
“Open your mouth.”
You obeyed, your lust-filled eyes driving him insane. He wastes no time, grabbing the hair at the top of your head and fucks his fingers into your mouth. Your eyes start to close, and he yanks your hair to bring your gaze back to his.
“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on mine.”
It’s hard. You’re already getting exhausted, but you don’t want it to end and neither does he. You’re enjoying your punishment. His fingers go deep into your mouth, just almost enough to make you gag, but he knows your limits. He respects them, even when he’s fucking the shit out of you like he is tonight. There’s the unspoken trust the two of you share. Sure, he may be an asshole, tonight more than usual, but in your relationship he wanted you to trust him. He treated you like a princess, worshipping the ground you walked on, respecting you even in your deepest, most sensual moments like this.
He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, taking his hand down to your pussy. The two fingers slid in perfectly, reaching as far back as he can, curving as much as can, as quick as he can. Your hands hold onto his shoulder, head buried into his neck as he uses you for his own viewing pleasure. “Fuuuck, Johnny, please, let me- ughhhhhh,” you growned. He stopped again.
“I told you, not until I say so. I thought you understood?,” you did. But you couldn’t control it, not when his warm fingers were as deep into your cunt as the were, his breath blowing straight onto your face as he moaned in safisfaction. By now, tears were filling your eyes from the many times you were denied pleasure, denied your desperately needed release.
You wanted to respond, but you just couldn’t form coherent words, stuttering over the same few sounds. The two fingers from your core are brought to his mouth, as he looked you dead in the eyes, licking your slick off of them. Then, you felt a slight smack to your face. Warm, as he uses his powers against you for the seemingly thousandth time tonight.
“Are you going to answer me? Do. You. Understand?,” he questioned you. He knew you did, but he was addicted to the way you were already losing it from the relentless teasing.
“Yes.. Yes, I understand,” you whimpered out.
“Good girl.. That’s what I thought,” his hand moved back down to your throbbing core, rubbing it lightly.
“A little reward for you. Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
“Mmm-hmm, it.. sure does.. Johnny,” you whisper out, pleasure numbing your responses.
He hums back, kissing your forehead. He was giving you a break, reminding you that despite how harsh he’s been tonight, he still wants you to feel loved. It’s a small gesture, but there’s an understanding between you two. It’s short, sweet, refreshing.
He stops his movements, taking his hand away and moving it to your hip.
“Please, Johnny, I.. I..” you whine, leaning forward to nuzzle your head against his bare chest. He knows exactly what you want, and what you’re trying to say to him.
“You think you deserve it? After mouthing off at me? You need my cock buried inside you? The one belonging to the man you smart-assed?”
“Yes, yes I do. I’m so sorry, Johnny. I’ll be a good girl for you,” you promised. The levels of desire and yearning were taking over you, making you say whatever got you closer to finally getting to come.
He grabbed your shoulders, pushing you off his chest.
“You promise you’ll be good? If you’re not, you’re going to make me ruin you all over again. And you wouldn’t want all that, would you?”
Vigorously shaking your head no, you tilted your head to look at him, using your best puppy-dog eyes.
“There’s not an ounce of fight or attitude left in you, is there? Looks like my job is almost done,” he noted, knowing you’re both more than ready to receive the full extent of your punishment.
“Ruin me, Johnny. Please. I need you,” your voice is small, but he heard you perfectly fine. He taps your legs, signaling them to open farther, running his hands down your body before stopping one at your hips.
“No, sweetheart, you don’t get to need me. You’re going to take what I give you. You got that?”
“Yes, mm-hmm, yes.” You’re not sure how much more desperate you could sound, but you’re more than overdue his touch, and you’re willing to do anything to relieve yourself.
His other hand holds the back of your neck, bracing you as his slams into you in one rough thrust. It’s desperate, it’s aggressive, it’s needy. Just like you.
Your moans are loud, echoing off the walls and right back into your ears. You can barely hear his grunts under the sound of your own cries of pleasure.
“Oh, baby, that’s it. Yeah.. that’s it. Take everything I’m giving you. Taking it all so good… my sweet girl.”
He doesn’t set a pace, a rhythm, anything. It’s just him fucking you as hard and as much as he can get from you. By now, you’re overstimulated and haven’t even gotten your release. You know it’s coming, and part of you doubts you’ll get it— that he’ll pull back out of you again and ruin your orgasm, much like he’s ruined you all night.
He’s denied you, teased you, fucked you, fingered you, everything. There’s not much else you could take if he were to pull out of you. Hell, you’d probably come just from the thought of it all.
“Fuck, you’ve got the tightest fucking body. You knew what you were doing, huh?”
You didn’t respond. You weren’t even going to try this time.
Another slap to the face; not hard, not too painful. Just enough to bring you back to him. The flames flickered off his hand as his touched your skin. You hadn’t even noticed the heat.
“Didn’t you?”
“Mm-hmm,” is all you could muster.
“Look at you. You’re so beautiful when you’re fucked stupid. I don’t even have to move,” he abruptly stops his thrusts, and you don’t even notice for a second— your hips are rocking back at his without knowing, “See? You’re so lost in it all.”
He picked his thrusting back up, moving his hand from your neck, and to your other hip. You put your arms over his shoulders, holding your body closer to his as to keep yourself braced. You’re close— dangerously close.
“I can’t anymore, Johnny, I’m.. I’m gonna..”
“You want to come, sweetheart? Who do you belong to?”
“Mmmm, I’m yours, Johnny, I’m forever yours,” you croak out, voice hoarse and throat hurting from the now hours of teasing and denial.
“Good girl… such a good girl. Come for me, baby,” he finally said. After what seemed like forever, your release was here.
And you’re destroyed. Your body shakes as your nails scratch at Johnny’s back, the intense wave of your orgasm driving you insane. You practically convulse as your moans are nothing short of loud, hoarse whines.
He comes inside you, and had you not felt the warmth of it filling you up, you wouldn’t have been in the right mind to know it happened. The combined symphony of your moans and his bounced off the walls of the room, the silence holding the two of you making it all more sensual. Your body is shaking, hips involuntarily jerking as he’s still inside you. The feeling of his warm cock has you clenching him, and he’s still moaning at each one. You feel his hands run up your body, holding your arms and pulling back to look at your face.
“That’s my girl, you did so good- hey, are you okay?”
You feel one of his hands rub at your eye. You’re crying, and you didn’t even notice.
It’s not from pain, or agony, or anything of the sort.
You’re just downright exhausted. You went through hours of denial and to finally be granted the okay to let it all go? Yeah, you’re absolutely spent.
“I’m okay, just overwhelmed,” you laughed, giving him a small smile, “that was a lot.”
He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. You can hear his heart thumping still, letting you know that he needed this almost as bad as you did.
“Easy, princess, I got you. Just breathe with me, okay?” He kisses your forehead again, before setting a steady breathing pattern for you to follow. A hand runs through your sweaty hair, lightly scratching your scalp as an act of comfort.
You hum in content, kissing his chest as a ‘thank you.’
“Did I go too far? Was I too rough on you, baby?”
At first you didn’t respond, trying to focus on keeping your breathing steady so you wouldn’t just lay back and pass out.
“Baby, tell me. I’m worried now, did I do too much?”
He feels your head slowly shake against his chest, and he let out sigh, relief showering him. He didn’t even think during most of it, neither did you; you were just living in the moment of it, too caught up in the tension to have anything else run through your mind. Now that you both were recovering, his voice matched yours; hoarse and spent.
“It was amazing, honey. Perfect, even,” you spoke against his skin, before kissing up his chest and to his neck, each one filled with love and reassurance.
“Thank God,” he said with a long sigh, “look at me.”
You obliged, looking up at his face. He’s so handsome like this— the level of care and comfort he gave you after each private session where you showed each other the amount of trust and love you shared. It was raw, it was.. always so perfect. Johnny may be an asshole, and yeah he’s got his moments with you. But he’d never want to hurt you, and deep down he knew that you’d let him know if he did. And tonight, despite the rough demeanor, you both knew you trusted each other, and would be reassuring if the other ever doubted.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You did so good, always so perfect. You’re such a strong woman. I love you, so damn much.”
And just like that, the tears threaten to fall again. This time from the love you felt for him. He rested his forehead against yours, taking in the peaceful silence left between you too. You took his chin in your hand, bringing him in for a kiss. One filled with more love, more reassurance, more trust, more than anything the two of you had voiced tonight.
“If I ever push you to your limits, or I hurt you, or.. if anything ever feels wrong, you’ll let me know, right?”
You nod, putting your forehead against his shoulder.
“Of course I will. Never once have I or did I feel like you would. I trust you, Johnny. I always will. I love you with all of my heart.”
A few moments of silence pass, before he goes to move, finally pulling out of you. Your core throbs at the loss of what felt like a perfect puzzle piece. Johnny puts his clothes back on, and walks across the room to gather the pieces of your clothing that he threw. He offered you his hand, and you hopped off the table. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you almost, legs weak as water.
“Woah, woah, woah, I gotcha.” He lifted you back onto the table, helping you redress as much as he could without you standing. “You sure you can walk? Or do I need to carry you?”
“I got this, watch me,” you playfully rolled your eyes, before hopping off the table once again, a little sturdier this time, buttoning your pants. Standing was one thing, but actually walking? Yeah.. that’s not happening right now.
“Okay, I’m carrying you. Come on, sweetheart.” He muttered to himself as he bent down to carry you. You yelped in surprise as he lifted you, carrying you bridal style to the door.
“You know, one day I’ll be carrying you through a doorway just like this, except it’ll be on our wedding day.”
Your eyes widened in disbelief. There was one thing that many people agreed on: Johnny Storm was not marriage material.
You never expected him to say anything about that— ever. You were content with just being with him, married or not. But to hear him say those words? That one day the two of you will get married? It made your heart swell.
“Oh, really, now? You’ve thought that far ahead?”
“Of course I have. I would love nothing more than to grow old you with, baby.”
The two of you come to a stop as you arrive at Johnny’s room, and he puts you down for a second to unlock the door.
“Like this,” he states, picking you up again and crossing into his bedroom. Your head just barely hits the frame, and he stops, frantically making sure you’re okay. You’re laughing, and the look of panic on his face somehow makes it even funnier. He watched you crack yourself up with a loving smile, just thinking about how much he adored you.
After the two of you finally got into his room, he sat you down at the edge of the bed and went to run a bath. Once you both relaxed in the warm water for what seemed to be forever, you both got ready for some well deserved rest, and nestled into his bed.
You’re curled up into his side, your head on his chest, ready to doze off before you heard him speak.
“You okay?”
“Mm-hmm, just tired is all. I’m more than okay,” you promised, nodding your head against his warm chest.
“Tired from what? Having so much attitude or getting what you deserved for an hour?”
Ah, there it was. There’s the Johnny you knew. Now, not to get it misconstrued or anything, you loved when Johnny had his soft, romantic side. But this? This version of Johnny is what you loved the most. His sarcastic, joking manner. You flicked his chest, laughing slightly. His grip on you tightened, starting to laugh with you.
A few moments pass of you both just taking in the peace and comfort of being in the presence of one another.
“You really do trust me, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. With my life, Johnny.”
He doesn’t reply, not immediately. You feel him nod, and the hand on your arm rubs up and down.
“There’s no one else on this Earth I’d rather spend my life with.”
He opens his mouth, ready to hit you with another joke, but he stops himself.
“Get some sleep, you deserve it. I got you, sweetheart.”
You nestle closer, and Johnny pulls the sheets up farther up over the two of you. Listening to his heartbeat as the calm, grounding sound echoed in your ear, you drifted off into sleep, in the arms of the man you loved more than life itself.
The meeting at 8 that night never happened, seeing as some of the blueprints were smudged and crumbled up. Wonder how that happened?
𓊆 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𓊇 decorating for the holidays with your boyfriend ♡
𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .ᐟ fem!reader ◞ fluff! ◞ slightly suggestive (if ya squint) ◞ heavy kissing ◞ teasing/banter ✦ ♯
꒰ ֶָ ♥︎ : 𝓘𝐋𝐋𝐈'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐙 ⸝⸝ layout creds: @/jacksabbotts ⸝⸝ divider creds: @/cursed-carmine ⸝⸝ sorry for like dying ...again...here's a pretty late fluffmas fic in apology! I'll be working on the other ones coming up to try and stay on schedule...but...ehm..yeah..
The noise of the sheets rustling around you roused you from sleep, your eyes slowly adjusting to the daylight that filtered in through your curtains. It was too early to get up–the sun now just rising, but Peter was already walking away from the bed into the bathroom–still under the impression you were fast asleep.
You don't remain hidden beneath the covers for long, the urge of going back to sleep gradually fading each second your eyes stayed open and in sunlight. Sliding off the bed in one swift movement you slide your slippers on, rubbing your eyes to rid the crust in the inner corners.
You knock twice against the bathroom door before opening it, your boyfriend's smile in the reflection of the mirror greeting you. Toothpaste foamed around his lips, making him look all the more cute.
"Hey, I'm sorry–Did I wake you up?" He spoke, turning around to face you as he brought his toothbrush to his mouth and began to scrub the bristles against his teeth.
"No..you didn't." You sighed, a small smile curling the corner of your lips. You took a step closer, reaching your hand up to play with his hair–a few stray strands covering his forehead like bangs.
His own smile grew wider as your fingers combed through his hair, the small gesture making his heart skip a beat.
"Why'd you wake up so soon today anyways hm?" You hummed, not missing the way his grip grew tighter around his toothbrush, how his eyes looked anywhere but at you while you scratched just above his ear.
It wasn't fair. It was too early for your affections. Especially when he really wanted to reciprocate them.
With extreme reluctance he turned around and spit out the paste, hastily washing the remnants of it on his mouth.
"Decorating–Remember?" He replied, looking back at you as he ran his toothbrush under water, washing it of the last bits of toothpaste.
Right. Decorating! You remember faintly mentioning buying a new wreath and ornaments for Christmas, but you'd forgotten about it yourself. Clearly Peter didn't.
"Yeah, I remember.." you mumbled, watching him put back his brush into the holder with a soft clink before patting his face dry with a small towel.
Peter didn't waste a second before grabbing you, hands around your waist so tight like the moment was timed. "Oh yeah you do? You totally remember?" He chuckled, peppering quick, teasing kisses all over your cheek–humming against your skin like it was revenge for your little scalp massage earlier.
The giggles that left your throat were uncontrollable, your attempts in getting him to back off futile as he pressed his lips against your own, his soft lips rendering you weak.
"I'm gonna ruin your minty fresh breath.' you whispered jokingly, earning a small laugh from him. "I'll be alright–I've handled worse."
"Oh right, Spider-Man." You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck just as he began to pull away.
"Yeah, the same Spider-Man that swung down and got you all those pink ornaments–discounted generously may I add for a guy who saves the day." He rebutted, his smile melting into a smirk as your smile widened.
"Oh how can I ever repay you, my hero?"
"Another kiss wouldn't hurt" He shrugged all causally, sliding his fingers down your sides to your back, bringing you flush against him.
"Funny, funny boy." You giggled, booping his nose like a little puppy. His head dramatically fell forward at your denial, his breath ghosting over your nose.
"What happend to decorating, hm?"
"You're a tease." He murmured, giving your waist a small squeeze before finally letting up.
You simply smiled in response, leaning over to grab your own toothbrush. "I'll come down in a bit, alright?"
"You mean you'll strategically come down after I'm done setting up the tree so you can do the fun part?"
"Tomato toh-mah-toh!"
"Awh, Peter!!" You squealed, met with the sight of him bent over, fixing up the bottom of the tree all handy dandy. Maybe those hands weren't just for shooting webs all over after all.
His head lifted up almost immediately at the sound of your voice, his expression a mix of faux annoyance and amusement. "Right on time. I just happened to get the tree all set up for ornaments."
You smiled teasingly, walking over with a little pep in your step. "Oh my handsome, handy boy–thank you!"
He rolled his eyes but his own smile betrayed him, his arms instinctively going out for your waist as you got closer to him.
"Yeah, you're welcome."
"Dork."
"Shut up." You snorted, knocking him down with a playful shove–one he took the opportunity to dramatize immensely.
"I hope you realized who you just pushed."
"Who? A geeky band kid?"
His lips parted for a moment–truly speechless, his face glowing a faint pink.
"I quit a while ago!" He retorted, but it was clear who had won. "Besides..I was gonna say Spider-Man.." he grumbled beneath his breath, pushing himself up before grabbing a few ornaments, beginning to place them upon the tree.
"Oh sorry, Spider-Man." You chuckled, taking a little globe ornament striped gold and pink, toying with it.
He rolled his eyes one last time before he was quickly attacked, your body over his, both of you laughing like you couldn't physically stop. It was like something had suddenly possessed you and you just couldn't help but be completely in love with Peter in that moment–decorations be damned.
The tree did eventually get done–a little later than usual, but it was done nonetheless, and the whole time it was nothing but laughter and giggles. Little quips and comments, teasing banter–fighting like an old married couple on where the candycane ornament went and if a jesus one was appropriate at the bottom.
It was a supposedly mundane task turned into something of a date, the simplest of things–another thing on your to-do list turned into an unforgettable memory.
"You're exhausting." Peter mumbled, though you both knew he didn't mean it, and even if you didn't–his palm on your lower back, gently massaging your skin would've said otherwise anyways.
You laid on top of him, face pressed into the crook of his neck like a baby clinging onto it's mother. The picture of comfort.
"I'm fun." You corrected, pressing your lips against his skin dramatically with a wet "pop!" that made him burn up.
"S-sure." He murmured, his attempt at sarcasm futile as you laughed–once again.
"Next year, I'm doing this without you." He huffed, pressing particularly harshly into your flesh.
You looked up at him, raising a brow as if daring him to go on. "Oh yeah? Then who'll help you put the star on top?"
"You're an inch taller! An inch!" He groaned, quickly quieting down once your lips met his. You felt his body go weak almost instantly, melting into you like butter. Peter was all bark no bite anyways..
"An inch is an inch." You teased, a low chuckle leaving your lips as his fingers dug into your skin as if he was physically restraining himself–
"I guess I'll have to keep you around then. Just for the star."
this is an extensive list (in order of fic length) honestly doing this mostly for myself lol cause i reread these so often, thank you to all the authors for your fics <3
especially my fave joaquin fic authors: @love-chx @sortagaysortahigh @geminiwritten @cursedheartsclub @of-apollo please read their fics beyond the ones listed below!! <3
p.s. please let me know if you would like me to remove your work from the list <3
personal favourites - 💗
friday night dinner by @love-chx // roommate!series // fluff // jealous!joaquin 💗
your roommate ambushes you in your own home with congressman bucky and captain america sam. chaos ensues as joaquin convinces you to let them stay for dinner.
tell me i'm your national anthem by @love-chx // roommate!series // fluff 💗
fourth of july party
stakeout by @sunsburns // fluff // bestfriends-to-lovers, slight jealous!joaquin 💗
only you, only you by @of-apollo // fluff // pbjj!au, mutual pining 💗 You and Joaquin have spent a long time dancing around your feelings for each other. It doesn’t help that he might just be the most oblivious man alive. Luckily, your friends are relentless in their efforts to get you together.
swimming pools by @mindfulsweetheart // fluff // pbjj!au 💗
joaquín takes care of you after a night out with friends leads you right to his doorstep.
gazes by @joaquinwhorres // fluff, suggestive // mutual pining 💗
It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.
only exes in the building by @snoopysupe // fluff, angst // exes-to-lovers, mutual pining 💗
you only had two months left on your lease with your ex
Nobody Gets Me by @sortagaysortahigh // angst, hurt/no comfort, no happy ending // exes, jealous!joaquin 💗
Getting married young had its risks, unfortunately for you and Joaquin, that marriage didn't work out, it's been years since you've been in contact, so why do your hearts still ache?
trick or treating by @magicalqueennightmare // fluff // established relationship
You and Joaquin take Sarah's boys trick or treating for her
A Hard Day by @emeraldserenade // fluff // roommate!au, friends-to-lovers
You had a hard day and Joaquín's there for you
Meeting the Roommates by @everydaydreamer // fluff // pbjj!au, slight jealous!joaquin, established relationship
Joaquin, your boyfriend, brings you over and introduces you to his roommates.
clueless by @munsonify // fluff // friends-to-lovers
you and joaquin are practically dating, and the only people who don’t seem to realize that is you two.
Miss Possessive by @petertingle-yipyip // fluff // jealous!reader
So what if you were a little possessive? No one got hurt.
The 5 Times Joaquín's Outfits Left You Speechless (and the one time you returned the favour) by @mrs-elsie-barnes // fluff, slight angst // coworkers Joaquín absolutely loves showing off in front of you, but he doesn't have to try hard to leave your mouth dry and your brain void of words. You're fairly sure he's just teasing, until his accident forces your feelings to the fore.
figure me out by @utopeian // fluff, angst, hurt/comfort // friends-to-lovers, jealous!reader
Being jealous and avoidant was no fun, but it was definitely one way to get with the guy you've been pining over for years.
Bed Chem by @sunshine-lux // fluff, extremely suggestive
the four times you made Joaquin speechless and the one time he got you back!
plus one by @fireinmoonshot // fluff, suggestive // established relationship
You help Joaquín get ready for a gala that he and Sam are attending – though because of the 'no plus ones' rule, Joaquín would rather stay with you instead... and he intends to convince you to let him.
means i care by @flowersforbucky // fluff, slight angst // friends-to-lovers, pining, enhanced!reader
"You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn't beating when I pulled you from that water." He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”
hover by @peterparkive // fluff, slightly suggestive // jealous!joaquin, established relationship
you just want to enjoy one good night out with your friends, your boyfriend, and some dangerously good cocktails—but some guys never learned to take a hint. luckily for you, joaquin’s never been shy when it comes to reminding everyone that you’re completely and utterly spoken for
oh, so pathetic! by @of-apollo // fluff // college!au, situationship!au, jealous!joaquin
Both you and Joaquin think that you’re more than happy with whatever you have being undefined. And then, Joaquin is the first to crumble (quite pathetically) and confess everything when he sees you flirting with someone else at a party.
Project Aphrodite by @happypopcornprincess // fluff, slight angst // holiday!au
When the Avengers get tired of watching you and Joaquin dance around your feelings for each other, they take matters into their own hands.
"I Don't Know If I Wanna Be You or Him." by @dameronspector // fluff
You finally get a chance to meet your idol. Your boyfriend is a massive fan as well. The two of you have a blast and receive an offer that you wouldn't dream of passing on. Joaquin experiences a confusing mix of emotions and you, Sam and Joaquin get the celebrity treatment.
everything, everywhere by @myladybelle // fluff, angst, suggestive // bestfriends-to-lovers, mutual pining
being long-distance best friends with joaquín isn’t easy now that you’re on different teams. the more you talk, tease, and lean on each other, the clearer it becomes that friendship might not be enough for you anymore.
forget it by @sunsburns // angst with happy ending // exes-to-lovers reuniting with ex!joaquín after his near death experience, but you’re the nurse assigned to his care after he gets out of surgery. you broke up a couple years ago because of your very demanding careers, and you don’t see him until you realize they put YOU on babysitting duty to nurse him back to health, yikes!
Sunshine by @sortagaysortahigh // fluff, suggestive // enemies-to-lovers, grumpy x sunshine, college!au, pining
Joaquin Torres had a reputation to upkeep, one that wasn't entirely accurate, but it was easier to fake the front. Or at least it was, until he realized he was falling for you, but you wanted nothing to do with that version of him OR Joaquin Torres pins after you, showing you who he really is, and you finally let him in.
smut warning below! 18+ mdni!
fall apart by @moonlight-pro // smut // established relationship 💗
distractions were best kept under wraps. even as joaquin blindly allowed you to toy with him at the worst possible moment. OR giving joaquin nasty head during his phone call with sam.
concentrate by @joequiinn // smut // established relationship 💗 You're stuck on an important business call, and Joaquin is making it incredibly difficult to stay focused...
roommate's helping hand by @jordiemeow // smut // roommate!au 💗 after his injury in cabnw, he’s super horny but it hurts his arm to jerk off :( so ofc reader notices how moody he is from being so pent up and he begs them to help him when confronted
Taste by @sortagaysortahigh // smut, fluff, slight angst // exes-to-lovers 💗
Desk duty at the Avengers compound was simple work, but throw in your obnoxious ex-boyfriend Joaquin, and a plant from a different planet, and you have a whole other problem on your hands.
you've got mail by @love-chx // roommate!series // smut, fluff, angst // jealous!reader 💗
when joaquin gets a letter from an old friend from bootcamp, some unsuspecting feelings start to arise in you—feelings that you didn’t think you had for your dear roommate. you try to brush it off, to return to some semblance of normalcy in your shared home. but when joaquin sends you pictures from his catch up with his dear old friend, something hot and possessive stirs inside of you. and this time, you can’t ignore it.
Already Best Friends by @cursedheartsclub // smut, fluff // friends-to-lovers, roommate!au. jealous!joaquin, pining 💗
almost wasn't by @cursedheartsclub // smut, fluff, slight angst // friends-to-lovers, mutual pining 💗
You and Joaquin have been best friends since the Air Force—shoulders pressed side by side through deployments, shitty rations, late-night confessions, and every almost that never became something more. You’ve seen him fall in and out of love. He’s seen you pretend you don’t need more than friendship. You date other people. You go on double dates. But every time, you end up right back next to each other—too close, too familiar, too full of everything you won’t say. Until one night, everything breaks open. And it turns out, the only thing worse than wanting him all this time… is realizing he’s always wanted you too.
safehouse by @geminiwritten // smut, fluff // slight jealous!joaquin 💗
you're an ex-assassin trained by hawkeye and black widow, and your old friend sam needs your help on a mission alongside his new protege... but things don't go exactly to plan and you end up indefinitely stuck in a safehouse with joaquín.
no promise of tomorrow by @love-chx // smut, angst // situationship!au 💗
you and joaquin work together and have sex--two entirely separate parts of your lives. but when you suddenly as for more one day, joaquin falters. a week long mission where another man captures your attention makes joaquin regret the words he doesn't say. but does it really change anything?
all maps lead to you by @love-chx // sequel to no promise of tomorrow // smut, fluff, angst // situationship!au 💗
though the post-haze of your last mission with joaquin has yet to settle and the storm between the two of you has barely started to form, you’re thrown into another battle front at the behest of bucky. thankfully, this time, you have a shield who goes by the name of bob. but…you might be the only one who’s grateful for his presence. between bob’s soft demeanor and joaquin’s tough exterior, you worry you might not make it through this mission.
friends don't by @geminiwritten // smut, fluff // roommate!au, fwb, jealous!joaquin 💗
it was only ever supposed to be casual. convenient. roommates with benefits—two rules: no kissing, no falling in love. but when joaquín returns from a week-long mission and his mother comes to stay, tensions rise, jealousy snaps, boundaries blur, and breaking those rules becomes inevitable.
kinktober day 23 by @cursedheartsclub // smut, fluff // friends-to-lovers, coworkers 💗
praise kink
roommates to lovers by @cursedheartsclub // smut, fluff // roommate!au, blurb
World Saving Deserves A Reward by @sunflowerlando // smut
Joaquín is back from another mission, and you want to thank him for always being out there trying to save the world.
Friends Don't Hook Up by @emeraldserenade // smut, fluff // bestfriends-to-lovers
A night changes everything after you and Joaquín finally give into the sexual tension.
Hot, Bothered and Tactical by @fireside-fanfics // smut, fluff // established relationship
Thrist Trap by @hauntedhowlett-writes // smut // friends-to-lovers
joaquin accidentally sends you a shirtless selfie
real love purified by @utopeian // smut, fluff
Joaquin's obsessed with the fact that you were soulmates in your past lives, even more so that there's evidence of it: your moles.
A Little Distraction by @blank-potato // smut // coworkers
It's been a while since you've gotten laid, and it's starting to affect your concentration. It especially doesn't help when the person you're training is Joaquin Torres.
never late is better by @luvemmdubb // smut, fluff, slight angst // established relationship
Joaquín is late for your anniversary dinner.
lending a helping hand by @love-chx // roommate!series // smut // fwb
a big client’s request for a custom art piece has clouded your mind the past few weeks, leaving you stressed and tensed. it was a pain to be around, so joaquin had no choice but to confront you and support you. he’ll help you get unblocked, he insists, no matter how creative it gets.
Me Rehúso by @therogueflame // smut, angst, hurt/comfort // exes
It was just a drink. Just catching up. Just a little too late to call it nothing.
Redamancy by @phantomspiderr // smut, fluff, angst // fwb
The aftermath of sleeping with your best friend is never good—feelings grow where they weren't supposed to, and it drives a wedge in your relationship. Then things change...
Mi Amor, Mi Guerra by @cursedheartsclub // smut, angst, fluff // (one-sided) enemies-to-lovers, thunderbolts*
thunderbolts and sams avengers team are working together (sambucky no longer divorced) but y/n and Joaquin are both fighting to see who is better in Sam’s eyes?
woman in the chair by @kikismultifics // smut, fluff // mutual pining, enhanced!reader
after a scare from Joaquin on a mission, and you're forced to patch him up (because he's too stubborn to get properly looked at), you realize that maybe your feelings for the new Falcon goes beyond just caring for him like a friend. When he realizes that you are in much need of a carefree night full of alcohol, you're forced to confront your feelings—as well as his.
sin ti by @moonlight-prose // smut, fluff, angst // exes-to-lovers, pining
five years have passed. five years since he boarded a plane and left you behind to wait diligently for the man who would never return. when letters and patchy phone calls failed to keep the spark of your relationship alive, you find each other again. only this time as two entirely different people.
welcome home by @love-chx // smut, fluff, angst // exes-to-lovers
drifting from state to state looking for a place in the world after the death of tony, you find yourself back on new york ground when bucky starts the new avengers. coming back to cement your dad’s legacy, you promise yourself you’ll be out of the city before anyone even knows you’re there. but circumstances lead you right to joaquin, and you’re forced to face your hurt ex-boyfriend, having no choice but to confront everything you left behind.
heavy by @love-chx // smut, fluff, angst
you’ve worked with joaquin a lot over the years, from the military to his career as the falcon, as his physical therapist. as easy as joaquin was as a patient, it was hard. hard because he was such a shameless flirt, hard because he was so charming—but you’ve always been friends and nothing more. after the events of the red hulk, joaquin finds himself having a harder time recovering than usual despite having you by his side. a slip of the tongue leads to a fight that leaves the both of you tense, but all is forgiven when you find yourselves in an attack and confessions come to a head.
Jealousy, Jealousy by @sortagaysortahigh // smut, fluff, angst // enemies-to-lovers, witch!reader
It was as if every single thing you did irritated Joaquin Torres, you didn't even have to say anything to him, your presence alone was enough to tick him off. Don't get him started on your relationship with Peter Parker either.
en español by @geminiwritten // smut, fluff // friends-to-lovers
after joaquín returns from a two-week-long mission things feel different, then he convinces you to go undercover with him where tensions rise—only for him to leaving you wanting more... until he stops by your office for a very intimate spanish lesson
Slim Pickins by @sortagaysortahigh // smut, fluff
Every Friday for the past few months you've been going on shitty dates, and at this rate, you're convinced that you're either ending this life alone or settling for another douchebag. You can't find a genuinely good guy, it's not like there's one right in front of you or something!
Garden by @sortagaysortahigh // smut, angst
Y/n Y/l/n and Joaquin Torres had spent their entire childhood together, but growing up meant growing apart, and when travesty after travesty struck the world, their paths couldn't have been more polarized. But sometimes paths are meant to be crossed again, and there's always a chance for change.
