OFFICE RELATIONS

baby's first metal concert

Wax Wings in the Moonlight

WARNINGS: yandere, stalking, kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of abuse, slight misogyny, delusion, nsfw, noncon

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! HAWKS X READER

Icarus was an idiot.

A boy with wax wings who loved the Sun so much, he let it burst him to flames. He also resented the constant comparison. He wasn’t a boy with wax wings; his feathers were sharp and crimson, cut like knives, and drew blood at the slightest touch. And he certainly wasn’t chasing after any Sun.

He’d earned his place, spent his life in the shadows and the black, giving his blood, sweat, and tears to serve a world that worshiped pretty wax boys and girls that shined in the Sun.

He wasn’t one of them. He never would be, but he could pretend. He’d run his hands through golden tresses, and give his pretty wax smiles, so that they would feel safe and good and warm in the light.

He was fine being the one to watch like a man in the Moon, surveying the night, so that come morning the Sun could shine. He’d found a sort of peace in it. The night was cold and dark and cruel, but the night was honest. The night was his.

The Sun shone like a spotlight, and as the puppet on the stage, he could do nothing but dance for an audience so insatiable, they were only driven away by the darkening sky. Only to come back the next day for a show they had seen a million times before.

He liked to fantasize about what would happen should the Sun forget to rise one day. Would he be free? Could he unfurl his wings, permanently stained with the blood of the monsters in the night, and fly to the Moon? The Moon didn’t burn; the Moon didn’t blind; the Moon didn’t lie. He quite liked the Moon.

But it was a fool’s dream. Like the little wax boy who thought he could touch the Sun. So he’d play his part, if only to live in the dream that the freedom of the night provided. He was fine being alone. He liked being alone. Until one day, he didn’t.

He’d met many like her; he was sure. Pretty little girls who ran from the Sun because the light was too bright, too blinding, too fake. They were always his favorite, at least for a night.

After all, hawks liked to play with their food, but once it was caught, once it had been devoured? Well, what use were there for bones picked free of flesh he’d already tasted? He plastered on a golden smile.

Now, he wasn’t used to rejection, but his ego could take the way her eyes narrowed, lips twisting in a way that could only be seen as bitter mistrust. He liked pretty little things, sure, but he also liked easy little things. He could take it. The seedy bar was filled with prey, who, while not as sweet, would surely sate his appetite. But then she said something,

“You smile like the Sun.”

His face was half turned away from her, already scouring for his next victim, but his eyebrows quirked in amusement, smile turning sharp and deadly. Got her. He turned to welcome his meal for the night, tongue flicking across razor sharp canines. But then,

“I hate it.” 

He blinked, eyes owlish and wide. And then he laughed. Loud and unreserved, his hand came to clutch his stomach; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been caught off guard like this. He kind of liked it. 

He opened his mouth to respond; he thought to say something quick and witty back at her. If she wouldn’t spread her legs and warm his bed, she could at least stay and talk with him for a while. It was only fair.

But as he lowered his face back to hers, he caught sight of the mischievous smile that played at her lips, and all thought fled from his brain, blood rushing to color his cheeks. It was a lopsided grin that sparkled under the warm lights of the tavern. Like a Crescent Moon, he thought. He liked it.

“Would you like me to show you my real smile?”

He didn’t know why he was being so blunt, but he felt naked under the glow of her eyes. He wanted to test a theory; how much could she really see him?

“No.”

“No? Why’s that?”

“I don’t believe you have one.” 

He’d always known that the night was cruel, that the night was honest; everything was laid bare beneath the glimmer of the Moon.

Icarus really was an idiot. To chase the Sun, when the Moon was so much more raw, so much more beautiful. 

The Moon was in the shape of a woman, and her hips swayed from side to side as she walked away from him, a shimmering silhouette drowned out in the inkinesss of the black sky. He really did love the night.

He didn’t think he’d see her again, though he cherished the memory of her for weeks after their brief meeting. The sparkle of her smile, and the sway of her hips had provided him ample entertainment when he was left alone with only his thoughts and hands to satisfy. 

He didn’t believe in God, or fate, or wax winged fantasies. But damn if it wasn’t tempting when he caught sight of her, legs swinging off a too tall building, cigarette resting between what were undoubtedly soft lips.

He floated down with his blood red wings, and too bright smile, landing on the ledge beside her. She blew out a cloud of smoke in greeting, eyes trained forward--no, upward--glittering in the moonlight.

“You smile like the Moon. I love it.”

Cheesy, but he was sure it would get his point across. After all, it was almost like she had wanted him to find her, alone and vulnerable under the night sky, the sky he owned. She took another long drag of her cigarette, sighing out the smoke.

“Did you know that hawks are blind at night?”

She still wasn’t looking at him, almost as if she didn’t really believe he was there, like he was simply a figment of her imagination passing by in the night. Instead, her eyes scanned the stars. He found himself thinking that they belonged among them. He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t quite finished,

“I think you’ve been dancing around in the night too long. Birdie should fly along home to his pretty blue sky, lest he want the shadows to swallow him whole.”

She spoke in riddles, like a long forgotten goddess come down to earth as an act of grace for creatures too small and too unworthy to truly know her, to truly understand. He realized that he’d gotten it wrong; she hadn’t run from the Sun. She was a creature born in the black of the night. The starlit sky was her home. 

This was fine. He was fine being unworthy. He could play the game; he was good at games, and a game with a goddess of the night was a game all the same.

“Hawks are predators, don’t you know? The shadows can try, but I’ve got my claws hooked to the Moon.”

“And where exactly do you plan on taking this Moon you’ve supposedly trapped in your claws?”

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. The words that left her, poetry though they may be, revealed to him an altogether new, fascinating discovery. She could see right through him. He loved it. And, dare he say, a touch of morbid curiosity tinted her speech?

“Wherever she may want to go. After all, I’m nothing if not a generous suitor.”

“Tell me. How many suitors do you think the Moon had before men realized they couldn’t bring her down to Earth to fuck, and breed like cattle?”

There was finally an inch of emotion in her voice. Irritation colored the pretty words, and he found his smile growing. How humanizing it was. For a goddess to feel in the same way her creations did. The Moon may be cruel, but it was always honest. Whether or not it wanted to be.

“I assure you, I have no intention of stealing the Moon from her sky.” 

She looked at him now, but her eyes were sharp and cold. She’d dipped her toes in the pond of human insanity, and she’d grown bored with it, it seemed.

“I don’t believe you.”

She let her lit cigarette fall, eyes following the small glow as it disappeared into the inky black of the night. And then she stood, stretching her arms above her head. He caught a peek of lace as her shirt lifted, and swallowed as he felt his face heat.

And then she turned, back to the ledge of the roof, and smiled a smile too bitter for her pretty face. Where was that sparkling, lopsided, Crescent Moon grin? And then she leaned back, and fell.

He was on his feet quicker than he realized, blood red wings quick to puff out, and dive. But she was gone, melted into the tar of the starlit sky. How cruel the Moon was. To mock him, to prove just how out of reach she really was.

He wasn’t losing this game. The Moon was pretty, and the Moon was smart. But the Moon was not untouchable. And he had wings. He could fly. Fuck you, Icarus. His wings weren’t made of wax. 

He wouldn’t burn.

It was a while before he found her again, though not for a lack of trying. He’d done some digging as they played this game of cat and mouse. Hawks may be blind in the night, but spend enough time in the darkness, and the monsters you meet are sure to become your friends.

She lived in a place too run down, and too dangerous to be called a home. Though, with her ability to slip in and out of reach at the drop of a hat, she’d managed.

It was a fitting power, he thought. Many had tried to bring the Moon to Earth before, but she slipped through their fingers too easily. After all, she was a million miles away. That was fine. His wings were sharp and his wings were strong. He could fly a million miles, if she so pleased.

Though, she didn’t seem pleased to find him wandering underneath the same streetlights one night. She looked unimpressed when he assured her it was a simple coincidence. The Moon was smart. But she didn’t make an effort to disappear into the pitch black of the night; she must have wanted him to find her. 

How many times would she make him chase her? Did she think he’d grow tired? Hawks, as unwelcome as they seemed to be in the night sky, mated for life. And the Moon was immortal. He had the stamina.

“Icarus seems to be getting too close to the Sun, Birdie.”

He liked the pet name, but the comparison grated his nerves. But the Moon liked the peace, and the Moon liked the quiet. He wouldn’t disturb her; it was her night, after all. He huffed out a laugh too polished, but she chose to spare him the criticism.

“How lucky for me that the Moon seems to be hiding it from view.”

“If wax wings burn in the sunlight, what do you suppose happens to them in the moonlight?”

“Wax wings only exist in Greek tragedies, little Moon. I’m afraid reality is far less poetic.”

There was a beat of silence, an unreadable emotion crossed her face.

“How disappointing.”

She reached a finger forward, and a ripple danced through the inky night. She was done entertaining him for the night.

“What do you mean?”

He wanted to keep her there a while longer. He just needed to fly a bit closer, and he’d be there; he just barely started to feel the Moon’s glow; he didn’t want to lose it so quickly.

“It seems that hawks are blind in more ways than one.”

Her eyes, that shone like the brightest of stars, dimmed. A far away look washed over her face, seemingly entranced with galaxies far beyond their reach.

“Only those who read the story got to see Icarus fall. Only they got to understand. He didn’t. He just died.”

And she was gone.

He stayed under the streetlights for a while longer feeling strangely hollow, be it from her words, or her absence, he didn’t know.

No. The Moon was honest, but she wasn’t all knowing. She couldn’t see everything from where she hung in the sky. And his wings let him see the world.

Okay. He was done with this game. It was time to steal the Moon from her sky. The Moon was honest. The night was honest. He never said he was honest. But he didn’t want to burn; he needed a plan.

He loved the night, but he was loved in the daylight. Who would have known his role on the sunlit stage would do him any good? He’d too easily found the perfect little collar to trap his Moon. She wouldn’t be slipping away from him anytime soon.

He was ripping the Moon from the sky. She would surely leave a hole among the stars in her absence. He felt his chest bubble in manic glee.

Good. The night was his. The Moon was his. He’d worked so hard. He let the strings of his fate puppet him all his life. Wasn’t he entitled to some reward?

And she was the most lovely of prizes.

There was rarely a time she went to sleep before the sun started to peek through the horizon. He had to be quick, lest he want those pretty wax boys and girls who patrolled the daylight to catch him. To steal his Moon.

He hadn’t realized how careless she was, dancing with abandon under the multicolored lights of the bar, leaving her drink unattended at a corner table. Nevermind that, it was lucky for him. No matter how annoying it was to see her friends buzzing around her like moths to her flame. They served as a fine distraction. He’d have her to himself soon enough. Maybe he could make her dance for him.

He would have scolded her for the ease at which the monsters that go bump in the night would be able to climb through her window, but he supposed he was one of those monsters now. That was fine. He’d be a monster if it meant he could hold the Moon in his hands, and know that he was the only one allowed to feel her glow.

The silver collar reminded him of a wedding band as it clicked around her neck. How lucky for him she hadn’t noticed the unnatural bubbles that fizzed her drink not even an hour ago. Her head fell against his chest as he lifted her into his arms. Is this what it felt like to touch the Moon?

Okay, Icarus. He acquiesced. He understood. The feeling of her skin, soft as cotton, sent shivers down his spine. The peaceful look on her sleeping face only reinforced what he had already known. She was a Goddess. Blood red feathers puffed in excitement, and something a little more feral.

The golden glow that began to creep into the sky shook him from his thoughts. Wax wings couldn’t have carried him across the sky as quickly as he had been able to soar home. Wax wings wouldn’t have allowed him to cradle the Moon in his arms like the most precious of possessions, and spirit her away from that sky she loved so much.

But he supposed she hadn’t been entirely wrong as he set her down on satin sheets, that pretty wedding ring collar around her neck. Maybe the shadows of the night had swallowed him whole. That was fine. 

He’d been able to drag her with him into the abyss. She would have to share her moonlight with him now, lest she want to stumble blind and dumb through the dark the rest of her immortal life.

He knew she wasn’t really immortal, but the knowledge that she’d shine only for him until her last breath made him feel like forever was at his fingertips.

He sat, deep in thought, at the edge of the bed, eyes glued to his Moon. He wondered, when she opened those starlit eyes of hers, and found herself brought down to Earth, would she cry pretty, shooting star tears? Or would she look upon him with grateful awe, that he had been the one to finally touch her? To catch her.

And then, remembering her words, a more sadistic thought. He hadn’t brought her down to Earth to fuck and breed like cattle. He really hadn’t. Or not just to fuck and breed like cattle. His lips split in an insatiable grin, tongue flicking out to lick across too sharp fangs. That was simply a welcome bonus.

He’d never had anything to call his own his entire life. All the little wax boys and girls got to play in the Sun. They’d been able to enjoy the light. He’d never understood. The light had held him hostage, and used him to do its dirty work because it was too afraid of the dark to do it on its own. Fine. But if he had to be a slave to the light, he’d revel in the darkness.

He had the moonlight to guide him now.

He was surprised to find that there was a darkness that frightened even the Moon. But the pale horror that painted her face as she gazed upon him, hands clawing at the silver present at her neck could only be explained as suffocating fear.

"Don't be scared, little Moon. You'll be alright down here on Earth. Right here with me, where you belong."

He couldn’t wait to unwrap his present. But as he shed his clothes, and crept forward, and an ocean of tears fell from her glowing eyes, he found himself the slightest bit disappointed. He’d really hoped she’d be thanking him. She should be thanking him.

A spark of irritation lit in his chest. He’d played her game. And he’d won. It was only fair that he collected his prize. He’d flown so far to touch the Moon. The least she could do is lay back, and let his fingers explore.

Oh well. What was one more game?

He captured her hands in his claws, trapping beating fists in pretty silver bracelets laced to the bed frame. Shooting star tears streaked her cheeks as he shoved her into satin sheets. He brushed the wetness from her cheeks, but the rivers that streamed from her eyes were endless.

He felt like gloating to Gods that didn’t exist as he ripped at the pretty white lace that decorated her skin. Pretty white lace. The Moon really was pure, really was untouched.

Well, until now. Suck it, Icarus.

He crammed that pretty white lace that he’d dragged down her legs into her mouth. Screams didn’t suit the Moon’s pretty voice. Where had her riddles gone? He wrenched her thighs apart, and let his eyes explore. His claws slid down, sinking into plush skin, and his head dove between her legs. 

Thank you for the meal. The taste of her on his tongue was like nothing he’d ever known before. Ambrosia. She really was a Goddess.

His tongue explored inside her, and played with that pretty jewel between her legs until she began to tremble. She twisted, spitting the pretty lace out of her mouth, and with a voice breathy and shaking,

“Please.”

Like he said, he was nothing if not a generous suitor. He spelled his name with his tongue across her lower lips, and kissed at her sensitive bud.

Her thighs quivered, hands straining against those silver bracelets, as the most beautiful of moans left her mouth. Her back arched in a way that reminded him of that ethereal Crescent Moon.

He leaned back, wiping the dew from the wolfish grin on his face. He freed her hands, wanting to feel her sacred fingers roam his unworthy skin. Never mind how they pushed and scratched and hit, begging with each new mark they painted on his skin.

After all, where could the Moon go now that the sky was out of reach? He positioned himself at the heaven’s gate his tongue had just barely peeked through.

“You’ve been floating all on your own in the sky too long, little Moon. It seems the shadows have swallowed you.”

And he shoved himself inside.

Fuck.

He finally understood why men went to war, why men died for just a taste of elysium. He vaguely registered the broken pleas and cries that came from her lips, but he payed no mind to the words. The sounds that left her sent pleasure-filled shivers down his spine.

He thrust inside her with wild abandon as she bleated and whimpered, and knew that he had touched perfection. His wings, strong and sharp and bloody, were nothing but wax imitations to the real, raw beauty of the Moon.

He was no different than the little wax boy who thought he could touch the Sun. But this little wax boy had caught the Moon.

Pretty hands came to clutch at crimson feathers, fingers digging in to grasp on to some sense of reality. He realized he could answer her question now. As she tore the feathers from him in terrified, pleasured frenzy, he knew. 

Wax wings didn’t burn in the moonlight.

They bled.

Steve, Billy and Eddie’s reactions to you calling them daddy in bed.

a/n: Steve and Billy join the party! Been thinking hard about this so I had to put it into words and share a quick blurb for each boy. I'll happily do more for other characters if anyone wants that!

Steve:

“Oh fuck baby, just like that” Steve moans loudly, his slick brown hair stuck to his sweaty forehead like a gorgeous halo. “God you feel so good” he groans, head thrown back and eyebrows knitted in pleasure. You were presently on Steve laps, riding him in slow, deliberate bounces. Steve’s hands are on your hips, guiding your movements and worshipping your curves before gliding his hands up your waist and then to your breasts. 

“Perfect tits” Steve moans as his lidded eyes run over your body, marvelling at the masterpiece that was you riding him. You begin to bounce faster on his lap and he throws his head back with a loud groan, snapping his own hips up to meet yours. You stop your movements as Steve picks up his pace and fucks you from below, hands back on your hips and digging in gently as he pounds you. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself up. “You like that baby?” Steve coos, licking his lips as he looks into your blissed out eyes. 

“Yes I love it daddy” you moan out, hips stuttering as you try and grind against him. Steve would lose it at this, choking out a groan at how abrupt and hot it was. You try to hide your eyes with your hands shyly but Steve pulls them away and pins them tightly behind your back with one of his hands. 

“Say that again” he says desperately, chest heaving from his heavy breaths. His eyes burned into yours, glowing with desire and begging you to say it again. You swallow and look up at him with doe eyes, prompting him to take your chin in his hand and ghost his lips against yours as he repeats his words. 

“I-I said that I love it, daddy” you say quietly, biting your lip as you eye the gorgeous man in front of you. 

“Good girl” Steve coos, stroking your cheek and planting a soft kiss on your lips as he starts bucking his hips back up into you. He moans breathily as he feels you clench around him as you get close, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing gentle circles to push you over the edge. 

“Cum around daddy’s dick baby.”

Billy: 

Billy loves fucking you in missionary, getting to see the cockdrunk look on your face as he pounds you senseless and watches you shake under him. But more so he loves to get to see your legs splayed for him, and watch his cock slide in and out of your glistening little cunt. He loves to watch you try to take him as he completely destroys you. Billy had your legs up on his shoulders, folded against your chest as he fucked you relentlessly. His pace impossibly hard, spurred on by your loud mewls and the tears slipping past your eyes.

“Aw can you not take my cock baby?” Billy teases into your ear, licking the shell of it as he keeps up his fast pace. “Is it too big for your pretty pussy?” he asks in a strained voice, grunting as you clench around him. You moan loudly, blissed out and cock dumb, legs shaking as you feel yourself getting close again. 

“No daddy!” you manage to whine out, looking up at him with wide eyes. Billy lets out a loud growl as the words spill past your lips, stopping his movements with a hard thrust and keeping his cock buried in your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat to make you look at him. 

“What was that, princess?” Billy asks darkly, voice laced with venom. “You shouldn’t have said that” he whispers into your face, grinding his hips into yours and pushing his cock deeper inside you. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, whimpering as his hand squeezes your neck just a little harder. Suddenly you’re being picked up and flipped around, gasping as he puts you on your hands and knees, roughly forcing your face down into the mattress as he slides back into you. 

“Now daddy’s going to have to ruin this little pussy” he spits, muscles flexing as your cunt clenches around him. 

His hands quickly find your ass, grabbing the flesh roughly as he slams back into you, watching your ass bounce against him. He slaps your ass hard, leaving a red handprint in its wake as he drives into you. You can only grip the bedsheets and babble nonsense as Billy fucks you through another orgasm, the cruel glint in his eyes letting you know this wouldn’t be your last. 

Eddie:

Eddie would get a lot more kinky the more he gets comfortable with his partner, especially if you’re kinky too. Once he’s used to fucking you, which he never quite feels like he is because boy does he get pussy drunk the second he sees your pussy let alone sinks into the tight warmth of it, you’ll get to see just how dominant he can be depending on his mood. This was one of those nights and Eddie had you in his handcuffs, chained between the bed frame so you can’t squirm away from him. He’d have eaten you out until your legs were shaking and you were begging him to  fuck you, shamelessly grinding his hard cock against the mattress at your noises and the sweet taste of you. Eddie then begins to tease your slit and slowly pushes a finger into your tight heat, so slowly that you moan in frustration and shake your hands to try and free yourself. 

“Not so fast princess” Eddie teases with a tut, wagging his finger at you. You let out a groan and arch your back, lifting your hips off the bed in need of more friction. Eddie pushes your hips down harshly and latches his lips back onto your clit as he works a second finger into you, making your toes curl as you mewl. 

“Please just fuck me daddy” you whine desperately, mouth opening before you could think. Eddie moans into your cunt, devilish eyes glinting at your from between your legs as he hears what you’d said. He leans up on his elbows and wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smirking dangerously at you, as thought he’d just found out something incredibly amusing.

“Daddy, huh?” Eddie hums, eyes not wavering from your pink cheeks and fucked out expression, “Now that I wasn’t expecting.” He sits up on his knees, slowly pulling his pants down his legs and letting his cock spring free, revelling in the mewls you let out once he’s exposed to you. He loves it when you get all flustered for him, pumping his cock in his fist while you whine and desperately buck your hips in the hopes of getting some friction. He oh so teasingly presses the tip of his cock to your pussy, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he watches you writhe and moan beneath him, still uselessly trying to free your hands from their constraints. 

“You want daddy to stretch you out with his cock?” He asks in mock sympathy, tucking your hair behind your hand ear as you nod frantically, tears practically forming in your eyes from how badly you need him. Eddie smirks at your submission, licking his lips and throwing his head back in pleasure as he begins to sink into you.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy baby, so tight.”

Fangirl

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: In which you’re Corroded coffins biggest fan and then Dustin introduces you to Eddie

Word Count: 2293

“Of course I can come watch Dustin Claudia. I can be over in like fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you so much sweetie! Ever since that earthquake I hate the idea of him being by himself. I’ll leave some money on the counter in case you guys need to get a pizza or anything.” You let out a relieved sigh once Dustin’s mom hangs up. You just have to call your friend Steph to cancel plans tonight before heading next door to the Henderson’s. You didn’t really want to go to them anyway. She wanted to go out to a bar, which was fine. That’s what you normally did with her but that was just to go see your favorite band. Under normal circumstances you hated going to bars, they were dark and dirty and you’d prefer to do something that didn’t involve older men hitting on you. But if Corroded Coffin was playing you could bet your ass you’d be there.

Keep reading

warnings. | smut, age gap, vaginal sex, public sex (poolside and in a backyard), fingering, jerking off (mild) daddy kink, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, mild spanking, mild degradation (just names like ‘slut’ and others alike), squirting, allusions to sam wilson x reader and helmut zemo x reader, allusion to shower sex, creampie, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

pairing. | Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

author’s note. | another one bc why not? i haven’t written for bucky in a while so here he is!! reader is of age and knew bucky since she was 18+ don’t forget to enjoy and reblog!! MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!! my taglist. @nsfwlibrary.

Mr. Barnes’ metal arm gleams in the sunlight, nearly blinding you. But it’s a good thing you’re too busy tossing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut out of pleasure. His flesh fingers are buried deep inside your sopping cunt, and his palm grinds against your throbbing clit. 

Bucky’s bionic hand wraps around his cock as he jerks himself off, unable to control himself. How can he? You—in your tiny little bikini and other scandalous outfits—have been the bane of his existence ever since he met you. He’s only known your father for two years now, but the bond between the two men is tight.

Not as tight as your sweet little pussy. 

“You gonna come again, bunny?” Bucky questions, his face close to your sweaty one. He smells of smoke, whiskey, and sunscreen. You can still remember slathering it on his body, feeling his muscles ripple underneath your touch. Nodding, you maintain your gaze on his pretty face.

Two of the older man’s fingers press against your g-spot, and with a muffled cry, you come undone once again. You soak his skin with your juices, and he glistens underneath the sun. “Fuck, good girl. You’re such a good girl for Daddy,” he groans, squeezing the base of his lengthy cock.

“Mm, thank you, D- Daddy,” you whimper out, grinding down on Bucky’s hand. Your drooling hole hugs his digits tightly, and the thought of having you on his cock is too good to ignore. “Spread your legs wider, bunny,” he orders, and you do exactly that. Your limbs are shaky, and you teeter between exhaustion and vigour. 

Three orgasms have you a bit ditzy, but you still crave more.

Bucky fully pulls off his grey swim trunks, and you admire his raging cock with wide eyes and a watering mouth. “Another time, bunny. Daddy needs to fuck this pretty pussy right now,” he rushes out, slotting himself between your legs. You grab your thighs and pull them towards your chest, giving him better access. 

After numerous getaways and secret sessions with him, you know he loves to fuck quick, dirty, and with ease. 

The bulbous head of Bucky’s cock catches your sopping fuckhole, and he slowly pushes into you. “Daddy!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and digging your nails into the plushness of your upper leg. The stretch is painful, yet your walls welcome him like he’s a long-lost friend. 

“Fuck. Best pussy I’ve ever had,” the older man groans, and you smile at his words. He bottoms out eventually, and his cock throbs inside your wet channel. “Oh…” you whimper out, adjusting to his large size. When you first saw Mr. Barnes in all his glory, you audibly gasped. He’s gifted in so many ways. 

“You’re taking me so good, bunny. Such a good girl, and all for Daddy, right?” Bucky questions and he slowly drags his cock out of you. His fat tip remains inside you. “Mhm, just your good girl, Daddy! S’all for you,” you moan out, and once you finish your sentences, Bucky sheathes himself back into you and starts pounding your pussy.

His thrusts are quick and hard, and he hammers against your g-spot plenty of times. His pubic bone touches your clit lightly, and his full balls slap against your ass. You’re both covered in sweat, and you can tell you’re going to have to take a dip after this. Or perhaps escape to the shower earlier than predicted, only for Mr. Barnes to join and make sure that your back is scrubbed perfectly. 

You’re knocked out of your thoughts when the top of your bikini is ripped off your jerking body, freeing your tits. They bounce with each rough pummel of Bucky’s hips. “Such a gorgeous little plaything,” he grunts, and the vein on the side of his head bulges. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” you squeal out, not caring that your neighbours might hear you. 

Even if they did, you know they wouldn’t say a thing. Mr. Zemo and Mr. Wilson are far too kind to do that to you. 

Still sensitive from your previous orgasms, you can feel yourself nearing another high already. Bucky can sense it as well. Your pussy is fluttering around his cock, and your face is more pitched. “Are you gonna make a mess on Daddy’s cock again, bunny? Hm?” Mr. Barnes asks, and you let out a strangled moan in confirmation. 

He chuckles lowly, and he snaps his hips forwards and back even quicker. His cock strokes your walls and glistens with your wetness. “‘M gonna make a mess, Daddy,” you whimper out eventually, but it sounds more like gibberish. Thankfully, he understands. And he knows just what’s about to happen.

One of the hands on your waist travels down to your core, and his thumb attaches itself to your clit. Bucky begins to rub your nub in tight circles, and that intensity in your lower abdomen takes over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you wail, and your back arches off the chaise lounge chair. 

The elastic inside you suddenly snaps, and before you know it, you’re squirting all over your dad’s best friend’s cock. Bucky curses at the sight as bliss claims your body the same way he likes to. “Good girl, such a good girl. Soak Daddy’s cock—fuck, yeah,” he moans, and he carries you through your climax with merciless thrusts. Your eyes roll back into your head as splashes continue to leave your body.

Bucky’s dick drips with your juices, and he knows he won’t last for long. “Shit, that never gets old,” he whispers, and the veins on his cock throb as he practically uses your fuckhole for his pleasure. It’s a bit selfish, but judging by the faint smile on your lips, you don’t mind it at all. 

“D– Daddy…” you whine out, nearly forgetting to breathe. Nearly. “Daddy’s close, bunny. This little pussy is begging for a load of cum. Daddy’s obedient little slut wants me to fill her up, right?” Bucky inquires, and you rapidly nod your head. Your streams have lessened in amount, frequency, and size. 

But you’re still moaning and panting like a bitch in heat.

“Mhm, want you to fill up my pussy, Daddy. Please? I want your cum in me so badly,” you plead, and Mr. Barnes swears. “Fuck, this little honeypot is gonna milk me dry one day, I swear. Shit,” he groans, and his thrusts are more sloppy and erratic than before. The clenching of your cunt sends him overboard, and his jaw falls slack.

Suddenly, he’s stilling inside of you as his balls clench. They empty themselves in your core as streaks of Bucky’s seed paint your inner walls. “Mm, yes,” you moan softly, admiring the look on Bucky’s face. You could never tire of how good he looks when he’s finishing. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” he eventually murmurs, and his words have you giggling.

“No way you just realized that, Daddy.” 

its wet, sticky and gushing

Chris Evans and Characters Master List

Andy Barber

Ari Levinson

Chris Evans

Curtis Everett

Frank Adler

Jake Jensen

Lucas Lee

Mike Weiss

Ransom Drysdale

Robert Pronge

RAFE CAMERON - high maintenance

x KOOK PRINCESS!FEM!reader

SUMMARY: 5 times rafe realises his girlfriend is high maintenance + 2 bonus scenes

WORD COUNT: 1286

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: nothing

the first time

it started when rafe picked you up for a casual day out, only to find you carefully examining your nails in the passenger seat.

“ugh,” you groaned, holding out your hand to show him. “can you believe this? this nail tech totally botched this set. the gems aren’t even symmetrical.”

rafe glanced at your hand, blinking in confusion. “they look… fine to me?”

you shot him a glare. “fine? they’re crooked, rafe. i can’t be seen like this.”

“whatever, i’ll just go to my monthly nail tech next time,” you shook your head.

“monthly? as in, every month?” he asked, leaning in his car seat.

“of course,” you said, flipping your hair as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “you can’t just let them grow out, rafe. that’s tacky.”

you kissed his cheek and went to connect your phone with his car. he thought about at meticulously done french tips you just had done two weeks ago. if it makes you happy, right?

the second time

the first time he tried to make spontaneous plans with you was a disaster.

“hey, babe,” he said over the phone, “thinking we hit the beach today. i’ll be there in twenty.”

A horrified gasp escaped you. “twenty minutes? babe, no. i just had my hair done yesterday.”

“…and?”

“and? saltwater will ruin the toner!” you exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “do you even know how much a balayage costs?”

rafe didn’t know what a balayage was, but he learned quickly that your trips to the salon were not just occasional—they were events. events with price tags that could make a grown man cry. still, he couldn’t help but smirk as you swished your freshly done hair around dramatically during your next date

the third time

when you asked rafe to come shopping with you, he thought it’d be a quick errand—maybe one or two stores, tops. he quickly realized his mistake when you pulled him into the fifth boutique, arms already laden with bags.

two hours and three swiped credit cards later, rafe sat on a plush bench outside the fitting rooms, holding more bags than he could count.

“this season’s prada bag is finally in stock,” you announced, practically dragging him into the store. “and i need something new for dinner with my parents.”

“don’t you already have a closet full of clothes?” he teased as you rifled through racks.

“yes, but these are the new trends,” you said without looking up. “and besides, i need something for dinner this weekend.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you already have a hundred dresses.”

“and yet none of them are right for this,” you said, holding up a sleek black gown.

“you buy new clothes every month?” he asked, watching as you tried on yet another dress.

“obviously,” you said, rolling your eyes. “what do you expect me to do, repeat outfits?”

rafe had never thought about it, but seeing how happy you looked with your fresh haul, he just laughed. “good thing i’m strong enough to carry all this,” he teased.

the fourth time

rafe was over at your place for a movie night when he spotted the lineup of perfume bottles on your dresser.

“do you seriously wear all of these?” he asked, picking one up.

“of course,” you said, settling onto the bed. “different occasions call for different scents. this one’s for daytime, that one’s for formal events, and this—” you pointed at another bottle, “—is my absolute favorite.”

rafe blinked. “you have a preference for perfumes?”

“well, duh. scent is everything. i buy a new one every season,” you say showing him a few. “like, this jimmy choo one is for summer, but this guess one is definitely for winter. but, the versace is for every season good.”

he squinted at the price tag on the one he was holding and let out a low whistle. “how often do you buy these?”

“whenever i run out or find a new one i love,” you said matter-of-factly.

rafe thought about his one bottle of cologne that he’d had for years and shook his head in disbelief. but when you leaned closer during the movie and he caught the faint scent of your perfume, he couldn’t deny that you always smelled amazing.

the fifth time

waking up groggy, rafe stumbled what your walk-in closet while looking for the bathroom. What greeted him was a wall of shoes—heels, sneakers, boots, all perfectly organized by color and style.

“jeez,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“oh, you’re up!” you chirped, appearing behind him. “do you like it? i just added those Jimmy Choos last week.”

rafe turned to you, half-amused, half-shocked. “you have more shoes than i have shirts.”

you grinned, unabashed. “well, yeah. shoes complete the look.”

shaking his head, rafe pulled you into his arms. “you’re insane, you know that?” he said, though the affection in his voice betrayed him.

you smirked. “but you wouldn’t change a thing.”

he kissed your forehead. “not even if i wanted to.”

+1

sarah and john b were lounging in the living room, casually catching up with rafe and you. you were perched on the arm of rafe’s chair, fiddling with your phone, when sarah suddenly leaned forward and sniffed the air dramatically.

“wait,” she said, scrunching her nose slightly. “what perfume are you wearing? it smells… expensive.”

you barely looked up, but rafe beat you to it. without hesitation, he leaned back and said, “probably something from her summer collection. she switches them every season.”

sarah froze, staring at her brother like he’d just announced he was running for president. “her what?”

rafe nodded casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “yeah, she’s into, like, jimmy choo or victoria’s secret or whatever. smells good, right?”

john b raised an eyebrow, looking between you and rafe. “dude, you know all her perfume brands?”

he shrugged, smirking as he kissed your temple. “gotta stay on top of it, man.”

sarah exchanged a wide-eyed look with john b, but you just beamed at rafe, completely unfazed.

+2

rafe, topper, and kelcd were hanging out on the dock, beers in hand, waiting for you to finish getting ready for dinner. the two were deep in conversation about their latest antics when rafe’s phone buzzed.

he glanced at the message and smirked.

“she says she needs ten more minutes,” rafe said, pocketing his phone.

topper groaned. “bro, she takes forever. what’s even the holdup this time?”

“probably her nails,” rafe said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beer. “she just got them done last week, and there’s no way she’s ruining them before dinner.”

kelce nearly spit out his drink. “what?”

topper leaned forward, eyes wide. “hold up—you know her nail schedule? and her hair appointments?”

“something to do with chrome nails, i dunno.”

“dude,” kelce finally said, breaking the silence. “you’re, like… domesticated.”

“and she’s got that fresh hair thing going on too,” he added, shrugging. “she just had an appointment like… two weeks ago? a balayage, she won’t let anything mess with it. saltwater, wind, whatever—she’s not about that life.”

topper and kelce stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“what is a balgage?”

“no- a balayage.”

“how do you even know all that?” topper asked, baffled.

rafe frowned, genuinely confused by their reaction. “what do you mean? it’s just her routine. not that hard to keep track of.”

kelce laughed, shaking his head. “dude, you’ve got it bad. like, whipped bad.”

rafe rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “maybe. but, hey, at least i get to date a princess.”

You were meant to be mine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem! reader

A/N: As usual 18+, this is not for minors so minors DNI, please keep scrolling. Inspired by Jamie Muscato's wonderful voice in the Heather Musical, Meant to be Yours. Now, here is Meant to be Mine. If you don't know the song, listen, come back, and enjoy! :) Alsoooo, this is not good behavior, it's toxic, if someone you know or you deals with someone or something like this in real life please get them or yourself help.

Summary: Toxic Peter Parker, reader who's trying to leave her boyfriend who's changed from the "nice guy" she thought she fell for.

Word Count: 2,100+

Warnings:

dubcon, rough sex, breeding kink, cock warming, toxic ex, mentions of arguing, choking

You sat on the floor of your shitty New York apartment, Queens wasn't the best but you didn't expect things to get this fucked up...

   Peter wasn't himself anymore, or maybe it was all an act. Your head just spun, but that's not even the reason you were sitting on the floor. You sat on the floor because you had no furniture, it was only day two in the new place. One day when Peter was at work you packed all your shit and left, you couldn't take it anymore, not after that night.

    The sweet soft brunette you fell in love with. Always adorn in skinny jeans and oversized sweaters or hoodies, such a beautiful boy. You met through his Aunt May. It was a bit strange but you both went to the same laundry mat and just clicked. She joked how perfect you'd be with her Peter, and it was true, for a while. You did this a lot, sat and just thought. What a shitty way to spend valentine's day... you saw so many couples leaving earlier, you'd be shocked if anyone else was even home in the building.

To make up for a lack of rent money and being late you agreed to clean the building, which was quite the task with the lazy manager and handyman who half assed everything. That's how you always knew things, who was home, who wasn't and got to meet lots of the neighbors. Random things would remind you of that night Peter snapped. The way he yelled and broke a frame you got him for Christmas with a picture of you both... that was the last straw. Your Peter would never do that. He wouldn't even raise his voice at you.

    While humming away to yourself, just sitting in the quiet to relax your mind. To try and forget Peter, and just wait for your pizza. It was all you could afford that would last the long weekend. Finally a knock, it was here.

   You jumped to your feet with a smile, so excited for the cheesy goodness to melt on your tongue. You opened the door, wallet in your hand to give the delivery driver a tip. "Hi, uhm- Peter?" You froze completely, dropping your wallet shocked. He found you? He found you... of course.

    "Hi, I just wanted to come by and apologize. I'm so sor-," you slammed the door right in his face. Heart aching and eyes tearing up. What the fuck is wrong with him? "Y/N! Open the door please, please Y/N." He said with an ache in his voice, the same one you'd likely have. He sounded like the Peter you once knew and loved.

    "Y/N please open the door, can we just talk? I don't wanna fight anymore I promise." He begged with a gentle knock. After about half a minute, he spoke again, knocking a little harder. "I know you're probably scared, I've been there. Please just let me in." His voice was soft and begging, almost pitiful. "Come on Y/N, can we not fight anymore?" It was nearly a whimper with how he begged and pleaded.

    Not even five seconds later, one loud bang on the other side. "Y/N!" He shouted now with the anger you saw that day. Three loud bangs to the wood followed, you watched as the door shook, hinges threatening to bend. "Open the door!" He screamed making you flinch. The tears now falling one by one. "Please babe, can we just talk? I'm so sorry. I'm calm I swear." He was so whiney, completely different from before, soft like your Peter was.

"Please go away." You mumbled, holding your arms, almost like you were hugging yourself. "Baby please." He sobbed with a soft thud to your door, you looked through the peephole and there he was. Head pressed against the door, you watched as he heavily sighed and lifted his head back up, almost like he knew you were looking, he looked right at your peephole.

"Please Y/N. It's just me." His teary eyes made your heart throb, wanting nothing more than to open the door and pull him close to you. But you couldn't. This wasn't your Peter anymore. You wondered if he ever even was.

As you watched a moment longer, his facial expression completely changed, anger taking over, you winced afraid of what was to come. "Open the door or I will." His voice was a demand, a serious one you could tell. "Peter, other people live here! They'll hear you and come out if you try anything." You warned. He ignored you completely, "don't make me count." He almost chuckled at his own words.

After a pause, he kicked your door, and the door shook, the wood creaking. "One!" He shouted. "Peter stop!" You cried out as he kicked again, the wood was cracking and you could hear it. You don't know how much longer the old thing had in it. "Two!" He shouted again.

Before three, you broke into a sob, and looked away. Too afraid to react to the third kick. Nothing came, no kick, no screaming, no Peter. You wiped your eyes, checking the peephole. He was gone, you sighed out of relief. You don't know what made him leave but you were grateful. Right as you were going to head for your phone to call a friend, another knock. You didn't wanna check, why would he bother knocking though? So you looked through the peephole and behold, the pizza driver this time. But, actually.

"Hi order for Y/N." The driver greeted, box in hand. "Yeah, that's me." You sniffled a bit even with your big fake smile. "Okay, here's your pizza and I had to set down the sides bag, sorry about that. I almost dropped it, a bit heavy." They nervously remarked. You had ordered a two liter soda and some cheesy bread on the side, so it made sense it'd be heavy. "No problem." You shook your head with a small smile, grabbing the box, picking up your wallet you handed the driver a ten dollar bill. "Thanks so much." You said and turned away to set the box down. "Thank you, have a nice day." The driver called out as they walked back down the hallway.

You set the pizza down immediately, opening that bad boy up eagerly, mouth watering. I guess the pizza can maybe drown out the sadness and shitty feelings.

"Orange crush? Our favorite." The familiar voice from behind you left you drained of all color in your face. Your skin was crawling. "Peter you need to leave." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Why? Please I just want to talk." He pleaded, approaching you, setting down the large bottle beside you. His figure absorbing your own, he was taller and more built than you, reminding you there was a reason you didn't want to be alone with him.

     "Please baby." He said and gently grabbed your jaw, making your eyes meet his. Peter's eyes glanced at your lips as he moved in. Your head screamed no, a thousand times no. His touch made you warm inside though, and you haven't felt that way in a long time. His lips grazed yours and the sparks flew, he had you. He kissed you slow and passionate, as if to apologize with a kiss. You felt your brain melt and become scrambled as you got lost in the feel of him.

     "Missed you." He groaned into your ear as he kissed down your neck, his bulge against your thigh. Every last bit of your common sense was leaving, the more he touched you, the more you wanted him.

     He covered your neck in hickeys, paying so much attention to your sweet spots. "I'm gonna make it all up to you, gonna make you feel so good." His words left you needy and moaning. Desperate for something, it had been months since you and Peter had been intimate. Anytime he tried, you turned him down. Anytime you tried, he turned you down, or wasn't around. Now, finally, it was happening for the both of you. "Please just fuck me Peter." You pleaded as he slipped a hand into your sweats. Two of his fingers running up and down your slit over your panties.

    "Say no more." He smiled and began to strip himself of his clothes. Not really giving you a chance to, he picked you up by your thighs, carrying you in such a way that allowed him press right against your aching pussy. "My room is," "I know." He interrupted and went straight into your room.

    Before you could question anything he was on you, carefully removing your clothes, peppering your body with kisses as he did so. "So pretty." He mumbled against your skin as he sucked, kissed, bit and licked you all over. Your neck, chest, thighs all covered now with his marks. "I'm going to ruin any other man for you, understand? So," he paused and positioned himself against your hole. "If you even try to leave, and move on," he began to push himself inside you. Stretching your wet pussy to fit him like a glove. "You won't be able to baby." The words were a deep growl as he started to pound into you.

   Helplessly you clawed at his back, just taking all he gave you. He was bigger than you remembered and god you were thankful for it. "Peter! Please more!" You whined as he immediately fulfilled that request.

    He gave you all he had, bottoming out with each thrust, as fast and as hard as he could, fucking you dumb. Your head was empty and all you could register was pleasure. "I'm gonna fill this pretty pussy up with all my cum. Never gonna leave me understand Y/N? You're mine." You couldn't care what he said, so close to an orgasm. "Tell me you're mine, tell me you want it." Peter grabbed your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure.

     "Oh god, want it so bad. Please fill up my little pussy Peter, it's all yours! I need it! Need you Peter!" You sobbed, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. "You won't ever leave me again, do you understand?" He groaned, his hand squeezing a bit tighter making you nod frantically. "I understand, oh fuck." You cried out, seconds from release.

The shame and embarrassment in the back of your head were fading the closer to your high you got. The feeling of him pounding you without mercy was so much. Such pleasure was foreign. “Go ahead and cum for me baby.” He moaned and kept it right at the same pace and strength. Peter’s voice, grunts in your ear helped you let go, you saw stars, vision spotty and everything was a blur. All you knew was pleasure, overwhelming everlasting pleasure. Well that’s what it felt like. His name was a never ending praise from your lips.

One that he seemed to love as his orgasm followed yours, “can’t wait to see how big your tits will get.” He groaned as he released rope after rope of his cum deep inside of you. “Gonna be such a good mom.” He kissed your lips, stilling inside of you. He laid his body on yours gently, staying inside of you.

His words and actions hit you, you didn’t take your birth control…. You haven’t for about a month. you had forgotten it when you were in a rush packing, and he would know that. He knew. He had you trapped again. “See, we fit so well together Y/N. I told you, you were meant to be mine.” Peter snuggled back into your chest happily. Maybe this is where you belong, he might be right… maybe you were meant to be his. “Happy Valentine’s day my sweet girl.”