Number Game - Jacksepticeye - 17

Requested By- Anon

Warning- N/A

Word Count- 530

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Bridging Boroughs

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Bartender!Reader with a past. Platonic!Matt Murdock

Summary: You and Matt come up with a plan to take on Kingpin politically.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for DD:BA episode 8, (but works if you're not watching). Probably misunderstandings of the US political system.

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Matt groans as he wakes up. He feels like he got punched in the chest by a truck.

He tries to take in his surroundings - it’s hard over the beeping of the machines, but under the stillness of night he realises someone is sitting beside his hospital bed.

“Heather?” He croaks.

“Nope,” comes the unapologetic answer. He recognises that voice, but hasn’t heard it in a while. Matt frowns - is he wrong?

The pressure of booted feet landing on his bed, one ankle crossing over the other as his guest casually stretches out her legs gives him a better idea who his visitor is. He tries another name.

“You got it," you confirm. Matt can hear the mirthless smile in your voice. “Glad to hear we’re not complete strangers, even if I never would have guessed you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at the Kingpin.”

“I wasn’t-” Matt’s protestations are cut off by a tightness in his chest and he coughs, wincing at the pain, “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”

Your feet leave the bed as you press a plastic cup of water against the back of his hand. Matt takes it as silently as it's offered, a few sips doing little to soothe the roughness of his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reluctantly letting you take the glass from him when the wires tangled around him stop him reaching the sidetable himself.

“Well, that’s rude.” Your tone is more amused than offended.

“I mean it. I haven’t seen you since-” his voice dies in his throat.

“Since the funeral.” You finish for him, voice softer, “But I keep up to date. You’re all over the news. Thought it would be polite to visit an old friend in hospital.”

“We’re barely friends,” there’s a bitterness to Matt’s tone, more from regret than animosity. It’s been a long time since you were close, “And I’m pretty sure visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

“I make my own hours, you know that. And I said old friend.” You pause, continuing when his only objection is an irritated sigh. “Plus I saw a mutual acquaintance of ours recently - he was worried about you.”

Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” your eyes scan over his damaged body, the tubes and machines keeping him alive, “And honestly, when Frank Castle is concerned about your mental health, something’s gotta be pretty wrong.”

“So you’re still in touch with Frank. And you think I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“I drop in on him now and then, make sure he’s not dead. I don’t charge in on him like a madman with a deathwish.”

Matt grimaces.

“So come on, Matt. I’ve seen the other news about you too. The other you. What’s going on?”

In the absence of anyone else to talk to who won’t judge him, Matt reluctantly opens up.

Time passes, and as the sun threatens to break over the horizon, you both sink into thoughtful silence.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need to meet Fisk on his level?” You ask.

“I’d never do what he does,” Matt spits emphatically, “That’s the difference between us-”

“That was the difference between you. The difference now is that he’s the one who’s gone ‘legit’. Officially, at least.”

Matt opens his mouth to object, but you talk over him. “You not changing the city as a lawyer is nothing new. I thought you'd resigned yourself to that after - after Foggy. But Fisk isn’t fighting in the dark any more; you’ve lost your advantage.”

“So what, are you saying I should run for Mayor?”

“God, no. But we need to look in that direction. Maybe someone else, someone who’s pro-enhanced p-”

“Wait,” Matt bolts upright, ignoring the pain that slices through him, “There is someone. We could at least ask for help, while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now?”

Matt grins, “How familiar are you with Brooklyn?”

—

Getting inside the Congressman’s office is easy for you, even in broad daylight. Plenty of people filing in and about, milling around - and you know how to go unnoticed. The bustling space is a much more casual, open place than you'd expected.

Getting access to him directly is more of a challenge.

After holding a store room door open for a smiling volunteer, you duck inside. Spotting a pile of discarded t-shirts from the recent campaign, you grab one and quickly swap it for your own plain top, before adding the casual blazer you'd worn to look appropriately professional on top of it. No need to be too obvious.

You'd spied his private office on your first loop around the floor, and now you make your way indirectly towards it. One well-placed slippery flyer in the path of a rushing intern later, and the woman stationed at the desk outside his door is running to the bathroom to try and soak the hot coffee out of her shirt.

Smiling benignly, you slip unseen into the Congressman’s office. The man you're looking for has his back to the door, standing behind a desk leafing through a file.

You have a moment to admire his broad back, the white shirt straining over strong shoulders, tapering down where it tucks into dark pants over narrow hips.

Forcing your eyes away from where they’ve drifted down, you've barely taken two steps into the room before he speaks.

“Are you one of those people who breaks in to try and sell me extra security?”

You stop abruptly - he hasn’t even turned around.

“No,” you answer casually, continuing to approach, “But maybe I should be, that sounds like a fun job. Do you think it pays well?”

“No idea,” finally Congressman Barnes turns to face you, dropping his papers onto the desk between you.

You let your gaze linger over his torso. He must get those shirts custom made, you think, so they're snug over his flat stomach without bursting the buttons over his chest.

Barnes crosses his arms, and the motion reminds you to look at his face, where he’s quirking an eyebrow at you, unflustered and unamused.

“So what are you doing breaking into my office?”

“Breaking in?” You try to sound offended, “I just wanted to meet the person I’ve been door knocking for-”

“You’re not one of the volunteers,” he interrupts cooly, “And you’re definitely not on the payroll. So now you need to explain why you’re lying as well as breaking in.”

“What, you know every single person who works for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat while you recalculate your approach, then take the last few steps towards him, smiling broadly and holding out your hand, “I just wanted to say hi, have a quick chat.”

Instead of answering or shaking your hand, Barnes narrows his eyes suspiciously at you.

“And there was no breaking anything, so it wasn’t breaking in,” you grumble, lowering your hand.

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

“Okay,” you sigh, presumptuously dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk, “I’ve come to ask what you’re planning to do about Mayor Fisk.”

Bucky’s neutral facade cracks in surprise. “What I'm planning to do about Mayor Fisk?” he repeats.

“His crusade against ‘vigilantes’,” you put air quotes around the loaded term, “His so-called taskforce are breaking every law they come up against to wipe out anyone they decide is suspicious, including everyone with enhanced abilities they can get their hands on. You were elected on a platform of protecting those same people, right? You can’t just do nothing.”

“I ran on more than one issue,” Bucky says, sitting down opposite you, “And Mayor Fisk was also elected by the people - and even if it wasn’t a key part of his campaign, as I understand it his opposition to vigilantes wasn’t exactly a secret.”

“That’s no excuse to just roll over and let him do what he wants!”

Bucky frowns. “No, it’s not,” he muses, “But so far his taskforce have restricted themselves to Manhattan. Unless they cross into Brooklyn, there’s not much I can do about it.”

You're visibly unimpressed at his answer, crossing your arms and glaring at him in place of a response.

After a moment of thought, Bucky’s gaze intensifies, and he leans towards you across the desk, “Do you have a - vested interest - in this?”

Fighting to keep your heart rate steady, you answer him honestly, “I’m here on behalf of a friend. And everyone else who feels hopeless about what the Kingpin is doing to our city. Everyone else who wants to fix it.”

Bucky studies you silently. Your answer was true - and you have no intention of sharing more than you need to about your history, or those nights when it bleeds into your present. Even Fisk never knew about you, and with Karen in California, Matt and Frank are the only people left in the city who have any idea what you've done, and neither of them know you've not given it up as thoroughly as you suggest.

"This friend," Bucky starts, clearly not believing you, "they didn't want to speak to me themselves?"

"They're in hospital." Your answer is more vehement than you intended, and you hope you've not given too much away.

Barnes sits back with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll talk to my team about it. We’ve been considering putting out a statement; a citizen complaint is a good enough reason to push that through. And I’ll look into what else we can do. Encourage an investigation into the taskforce, or some kind of oversight requirements. Legal protections for enhanced people with no record of vigilantism.”

It’s less than you wanted, but more than you'd hoped for from a politician. “Sounds like an okay start,” you allow.

An amused smile flickers across Bucky’s face as he stands up, dismissing you. You mirror him.

“Are you a Brooklyn resident?” He asks.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a no.”

“Compassion doesn’t stop at the East River,” you retort, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I agree. And I give you my word that I’ll do everything I can to rein Fisk in and keep innocent people safe, inside my jurisdiction and out.” He holds his hand out to you.

“Good,” you answer begrudgingly, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he squeezes back, “And your friend - if it’s dangerous for them in Manhattan, there’s a safe place for them this side of the river. Always. If Fisk’s taskforce follows - well, there might be more I can do.”

“Good to know. And if you ever want to update me on your progress - save me trekking all the way out here again - I work at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” You give him the name as you turn to leave. “If you make good on your promise, I might even buy you a drink.”

Bucky smiles. It’s an appealing offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wait,” he nods to your shirt, where Vote Barnes for the 9th District is emblazoned across your chest, “Did you pay for that?”

Rolling your eyes, you slip your jacket from your shoulders, Bucky’s eyes following the smooth motion, “I was going to give it back,” you lie.

“Don’t.” he stops you, a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, “You can keep it. Looks good on you.”

You smile languidly as you pull the jacket back on.

“Thanks, Congressman,” you reach for the door handle, adding over your shoulder, “I’ve been looking for something to wear in bed.”

Once his door has swung shut behind you Bucky lets out a long breath, rubbing his right hand over his face as he sinks into his chair.

He could have handled that more professionally, but something in your fearless attitude and sly smile had intrigued him - and the reason for your questionable visit was smart, principled - and ballsy.

He’ll definitely be stopping by that bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

205 notes View Post

itsmeamysworld

2 years ago

All Yours

Jake Sully x fem!omatikaya!reader

notes: i don't even know how to properly use this app and I'm not a good writer I'm still learning. so expect grammatical errors and typos. i literally cannot do this i think about him every single second of the day.

neytiri doesn't exist here I'M SORRY i love her sm and i feel so bad but fr tho girl don't know what to do with all that Imao. sorry girl but you HAVE to share. and this is purely just smut so there's no specific background of the characters.

summary: In which Jake reminds you that he only belongs to you.

warnings: alcohol consumption, jealous reader, reader almost beating up some bitch, lack of using y/n cuz that shit turns me off, extremely soft!dom jake, shy reader, reader is drunk, sexual confessions, this is so filthy, oral fem!receiving, face-sitting, squirting, overstimulation, reader cries from pleasure, LOTS of fluff, praise kink, jake finds reader so adorable, extreme size kink, possessive behaviour but it's fluffy, they're just so in love, established relationship.

“If i ever hear you talking about my husband like that again, I'll cut this damn braid off that you're not gon' be able to think about any man ever in that dumb little brain of yours.”

Jake's eyes widen as everyone gasps. it hasn't even been five minutes since you left him with his warriors, saying you were gonna get drinks. he didn't even wanna come to this stupid party in the first place, but seeing you so excited for your friend's birthday and the fact that he can't let you be drunk out here all alone was enough reason for him to get along.

there you were, with your left hand tightly tugged around a girl's queue and your other hand pressing her wrists together on her back. you softly slam her head on the tree as you speak. the people can't do anything but watch since they all knew about your deep hatred for the girl for flirting with jake every chance she gets from the beginning.

normally you wouldn't care since this happens everyday. almost all of the pandora girls had their eyes on him since he arrived, even the mated ones. and you can't really blame them because you've been drooling over him too. but since you knew your feelings were reciprocated, the rest is history.

you, on the other hand, is no different. boys literally fight everyday to get a chance to court you. but then you and jake mated and no man ever dared to touch toruk macto's mate since jake always makes sure the whole clan knows that you're taken, that you belong to him. and now you guess it's your time to express that the olo'eyktan too, is yours and yours alone.

your eyes slightly red under the influence of alcohol as your thoughts go back to how she giggled talking about all the intimate positions she wants jake to put her in. well what she didn't know was that you and your mate had tried each and every single one of them already.

your ears perks up at your mate's voice calling your name and you turn to see jake walking fast towards you. he pulls you from the girl and checks your body for any bruises. your gaze softening as you look at his worried state but quickly turns into a frown when he apologizes to everyone for you and put his hand around your waist, proceeding to walk you home. but you don't say anything because of your lack of energy and the effect of alcohol making your knees weak as you hiss softly.

“are you okay, baby?” jake asks you now that you both are away from the crowd. your knees only getting weaker at his voice almost losing your balance. that goddamn pet name. and the way he says it so casually. his arm tightened around your waist as his other hand comes up to hold your tiny one at his side helping your body up. you feel hot at his touch and barely processed his question.

he hums looking at you who's completely looking down, too flustered to look at him, the pandora ground suddenly being interesting. no matter how much intimate you two have been, you can't help but be shy in these moments. eyes looking at his hand that's holding your tiny one. both of your hands would easily fit in his one palm. looking at those slender fingers reminds you of those nights when he showed you what they were able to do, what places they were able to reach.

your small steps suddenly stops as you remembered his question, “no.” you whisper just enough for him to hear, as you squeeze his hand. you take a deep breath and look up at him, and jake swears, he's never seen such an ethereal being as you and he still couldn't believe that you were his. he patiently waits as you try to speak but kept getting lost in his gaze.

“carry me.” you don't know what got into you as you say your words loud enough for him to hear, suddenly feeling the need to be closer to him. he doesn't hesitate as he proceed to pick you up in bridal style but you stop him and stand in front of him with his hands still around your waist. he gasps when you suddenly jump wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands immediately tighten around your hips to hold you up, afraid you might fall. “like this.” you say near his ear as his breath hitches feeling your own.

“but we're in public sweetheart,”

“and? we're not doing anything?”

you press yourself harder against him and bury your face into his neck. he starts walking and you can't help but notice how strong he is, again, carrying you like you weigh as a feather. you wonder how he felt when he saw your jealous state moments ago. did he find you hot and wanted to kiss you right there just like you did whenever he showed his possessive side? or did he just think that you're an insecure annoying bitch?

him on the other hand though, he sure as hell went with the first one. and he's gonna make sure you know that.

“you do know that I'm all yours right?” and he even dared to press a quick kiss on your shoulder after saying that, like a fucking cherry on top. you almost let a moan out as you unintentionally pressed the specific part of your body between your legs against his pelvic bone, your thighs slightly shaking at the friction. and that alone was enough for jake to know what was up.

he smiles as he gives more kisses on your shoulder and you whine when he starts pressing your body to his. his ears twitching when dick hardening moans of his name fell off your soft lips. “shh, we're here baby,” he walks past the entrance of the tent that you both share. he sits down on the mat and attempts to lift you off his lap before you straddle his thighs again. “no! stay.”

you swipe your thumb against his lips before eagerly kissing him. he returns the same energy, you both only stopping to take breaths. “gotta clean you up baby, aren't you tired?” he asks and you can only shake your head as you're too busy biting and kissing his neck, you smile when you feel his cock right under you. you're sure that your loincloth is soaked as you grind on him.

he feels like he might accidently fuck your brains out right here from the way you're grinding your cunt on his very much hardened dick. he can literally feel how wet you are from the way your slick's transferring through your loincloth to his own. and the way you're marking his body up isn't helping either. especially when he knows why you're doing it all considering usually, he's the one who does it. but he held back, letting you do whatever you want to him.

but when he notices you getting rougher with your ministrations, “are you in heat baby?” he jokes. and you stop momentarily to look him straight in the eyes, making sure to let him see your lust filled ones. “I'm always in heat for you jake,” little smooch to his lips before continuing, “just want you.” you pant against his lips as if you just ran a thousand miles. “want you so bad.” and you're back on his lips. and god it's turning you on even more that he's just under you, taking all that you give.

“you have me, sweet girl.” he says before pressing his lips to yours harshly. and that made you pull away looking at him taking deep breaths. you want him to know how fucking deep he got you in love with him. so you start, “Jake...”

“yeah?” he responds, all ready to hear you out, so ready to take whatever you're willing to give him. your grip on his shoulder tightens at the simple yeah, it's almost embarrassing that he knows the effect he has on you. must he really do this to you? for fuck's sake, you're willing to give him all of you, your heart, your mind, body and soul. hell, you would even die for him without thinking twice if it comes to any certain circumstances.

“you know, you are so beautiful, so so, so—” you emphasize each word, making sure he hears what you're saying. you can barely hear yourself as you struggle to speak. you feel like you're dreaming, and you wish to live in this dream forever. he encourages you, drawing tiny circles on your thigh with his thumb.

you cup his face in your hands and he leans into your touch. he smiles as he watches you adoringly tracing your fingers through each of his freckles. you fight the sudden urge to bite his lips until he bleeds into your mouth when you runs your thumb on his under lip, not that he'd mind.

“I love you, i love you. so, so much. it's too much sometimes I can barely feel myself, you're everywhere, I feel you everywhere, it's overwhelming.” your eyes are completely set on his lips and you know he's watching you, observing your every movement.

you throw yourself even closer to him, pressing your body impossibly hard to his own. “I want you close, always. I just want you to never leave me. I want you to hold me like this forever. I just—” your hands travel down to his chest, to his broad shoulders and to his thick and veiny arms, before coming down to his hands that are placed securely on your hips, thumbs grazing the dip of your waist.

you take one of his hands into your own, bringing it up between the two of your bodies. you wrap your small fingers to his pinky, admiring the difference before you place the large hand above your left breast, right where your heart beats for him.

Jake feels like he's the one who's drunk, he's never seen you this vulnerable before. it's not that he doesn't know about your feelings for him, you're literally the love of his life. your mind is connected to his own. even without making the bond, he can tell how you're feeling just by taking one look at your face. you're like an open book for him, so easy to read.

now looking at his hand, you took a deep breath before continuing, “when you're away and I'm home early, and I'm feeling—” you almost choke on your words and his smile only widen. you're so adorable, “needy? for me?” he coos. you nod shyly, “ye—yes, for you.” you stutter.

he hums, urging you to go on, and you do. “I try to do it like you do.” your voice now coming out slow and quiet. he always found your shy demeanour amusing, “do what? touch yourself?” he teases you even more when he sees that you started grinding down on his thigh, a movement so insignificant that only a person who's watching you as intense as jake can notice.

“hm-mhm, and it doesn't feel good, actually, it's nothing compared to what your fingers can do!” you whine, small fingers tightening their hold on his hand to show him what you mean, “and even if it does, I don't like it. I only want you to do it.” and jake curses internally.

“well it's a good thing you have me then.” with that, his hand slowly crawls out of your tiny palms to make their way between your legs. and your mind slowly goes insane as your arousal takes over your body. his hand disappears inside your loincloth before placing his thumb right on your clit directly, your body stiffening when he does so.

“it's all yours baby, I'm all yours. every part of my body belongs to you.”

“all mine?”

“yes, all yours.”

“all mine?” again. say it again.

“yes, baby. all yours. my fingers, my thighs, my mouth, my tongue, my heart and my cock. it's all yours, doll. I'm all yours.”

not a single sign of hesitation in his voice as he referred to all parts of his body that he let you use and own. he would repeat it all a million times and more if you wanted him to.

you thought you would last at least ten minutes before he makes you snap. “undress me.” you order before smacking your lips to his own. he was taken a back by your sudden demand but obliged nonetheless.

when you're fully naked, you try to lift yourself off of him so that you can submit to him and show him that you belong to him too. excitement rushing through your veins as you can't wait for him to dick you down like you're his personal whore.(you are).

that, was until he gently placed you back down on his lap. “I can't, I'm too tired.” he doesn't reply and instead, he lays himself down before moving you further up. what? and before you knew it, he somehow manhandled you into sitting on his stomach. what's happening? you thought he wanted you to ride him? but the next words that flew from his mouth made your jaw wide open.

“sit on my face.” he didn't have to say it. cocky bastard, you're so damn sure that he just wanted to get a reaction out of you. he can literally make your body move however he wants. he could've just sat you down on his face if he so desperately wants it, but no. he just had to say it, with such a seductive voice that it made your body filled with need.

the mere sound of him saying it was enough to make blood rush into your cheeks. it was just so lewd and tainted, both of your palms come up to cover your face while jake chuckles at the sight. you can lie and say that you don't wanna do it, but your body is already giving in. he can feel your wetness literally dripping down on his abs.

“I can't. I'll crush you.” your voice so small and fragile, full of uncertainty, and it only fuels him to prove you wrong.

“I'd like to see you try.” he says with a smug face. the act wasn't unfamiliar to you, Jake has eaten you out plenty of times before. it's just the position. you don't know how'd he even come up with that, you can only guess it's some sort of sky people stuff.

“c'mon baby, up. want you on my tongue baby, please.” there he is, he knows you'll eventually give in. he knows you'd do anything he asks and now, he's asking—no, more like begging to pleasure you? fuck, one must be fucking mentally insane to not want jake sully's face between their thighs.

you find yourself fantasizing about it even though your mate is literally waiting under you to make your fantasy come true. you both haven't been giving that much time into foreplay lately, though jake always insists on getting you ready for his cock with his fingers stretching you out. so eager to just feel each other, considering you both being busy with your duties all day.

but when you do it though, you both get so into it, especially jake. he makes it feel like it was the actual sex. you would beg for his cock and eventually give up, knowing he wouldn't stop until he's fully satisfied. so many nights, he's fingered you to sleep, keeping them inside your warm walls for the whole night, you'd wake up so guilty that you passed out on him without having him inside you. but he would quickly get you out of your thoughts, curling his calloused fingers inside you, still soaked with your cum, “morning, princess.”

but you can't blame him, you're just too beautiful. it arouses him, to watch you fall apart for him from the simplest touches. going down on you has always been one of his most favourite activities to do. sometimes he feels like he doesn't even need to fuck you. he could easily get off just from eating you out without touching himself.

he loves it. the way you'd desperately grab his hair and rut onto his face as he does everything in his power to get you off the edge. pushing his face into you as deep as he can, your slippery entrance swallowing his tongue inside, nose putting just the right amount of pressure onto your clit. these are moments where he gets the privilege of drowning in you. he can see you, hear you, smell you, taste you.

while you were distracted, he's already moved you up to his face, legs spreading on either side of his head, it's only when you feel him kissing your sticky clit, that you notice everything. your hips moves away almost immediately, it feels so lewd. but you can't go far of course, with the way his hands are gripping your hips, keeping you in place.

and Jake being the best mate he is, realized he's going too fast. so he takes his sweet time teasing you, trailing sloppy kisses closer to your core. his nips and licks at your arousal that are dripping down your thighs. “shh it's okay, i promise.” his eyes drinking up the way you pussy glistens and clenches around nothing as he smirks against your inner thighs. he knows you'll be begging to get his tongue inside you within minutes.

when he feels you getting relaxed, “that's my girl.” that was all he said before he hungrily nudges his nose against your swollen bud, taking a deep sniff of your arousal. his eyes are tightly shut when he smells your sweet scent. he takes the pink muscle out of his mouth before tracing the length of your cunt with it.

he starts to roll your hips on his face causing deep moans to come out from the both of you. the way he eats you is so, slow and sensual, as if you're the most expensive dish in the world. he takes his time with you, and it makes you feel even more frustrated. he rocks you against his face, tongue eagerly lapping up the essence coming out of you. “taste so sweet.” Jake mumbles, pressing a long kiss to your clit earning a loud breathy moan out of you.

his grip on your hips loosens from time to time willing to let you take control. he needs to keep his hands on you to not touch himself, it was supposed to be about you and he's making sure it stays that way. eyes tightly shut as he tries his best to ignore the ache between his own legs and he's not gonna lie, his cock is now so sensitive that he's sure the slightest touch against it would instantly make him cum, you just taste that good for him. but he ignores it, his full concentration only on you as his brows furrowed, focusing on your release.

but you can't. the moment you realize he's not guiding you anymore, you're lost. you're completely lost, your hips losing rhythm as your built-up orgasm is rudely interrupted by no other but you. you know he just wanted to let you know that you have complete control over him, that you can ride and use his face however you want.

it's not the same doing it all on your own. usually, you wouldn't even know anything, mind blank as you just lay on your back, letting him do all the work because you knew he'd take care of you. and he does. but now that you are the one who's doing it, it doesn't feel the same. it doesn't feel good.

so you just can't help but writhe above him not knowing what to do, your dripping cunt hovering above him now, ready to get up. your lover figures you just needed a break so he slowly hums against you leaving trailing kisses on your thighs. you can't even talk because of how frustrated you are, so you use your actions instead.

with shaky hands, you slowly catches his hands that are threatening to crawl away and place them back on your hips, right where they belong. “please...” was all you could mutter before he realised what you wanted. he raised his head enough to reach your pussy and pressed a soft kiss on your clit. he smiles against you, god she's gonna be the death of me. your actions arouse him even more, letting him know that you want him to make you feel good, you want him to do it however he wants and you'll take it without a single complaint.

“I love you.” he mumbles into your pussy, before slowly sinking you down back on his face. you jolt as he kisses your cunt slowly as if he's trying to savour every moment. and the truth is, he is, he doesn't want this to end ever. he knows you wouldn't have agreed to do this if you were sober, too shy. but god he wishes you were drunk all the time so that he can be smothered between your thighs, eating his favourite meal all the fucking time.

he kisses your labia the same exact way he kisses your lips, pulling at it before exploring your folds with his tongue. the wet sounds of him kissing your clit and muttering things to it makes your head spin. “so pretty,” smooch “so good...” smooch “doing so good for me.” followed by his loud moans sending electricity right through your cunt.

when your moans get louder, he uses the tip of his tongue to tease your hole pushing it in slightly before pulling it out, leaving your cunt to clench around nothing. he feels you move above him trying to get his tongue inside you. he chuckles as he looks up at you to see his favourite sight. eyes tightly shut as you grind down on his mouth using the guidance of his hands.

and that's when he suddenly stops. your eyes cracked open, immediately looking down to see if he's hurt. “I-I'm sorry, are you hurt?” your folds hovering his face once again. and you were met with an unreadable expression of your mate before he pushes your knees up, putting you into a squatting position above his face. no way. “keep your eyes on me. I need you to look at me while i pleasure you yeah?”

and with that, he sticked his tongue out and quite literally slammed you down on his face causing the pink wet muscle to slide inside your hole, earning a loud moan from you at the sudden penetration of his tongue. you unconsciously try to pull away, the pleasure being too much for you. but he only pulls you back down making a wet slapping sound.

you obeyed his command and kept your eyes on his that are looking straight at you, half of his face buried under the weight of your cunt. he bounces you on his face and twirls his tongue inside you. at this point you don't even care anymore because it felt unbelievably good. your legs were spread wide for his face to settle in between, it fits so well. jake thinks this is right where he belongs and he wishes to stay like this forever.

you moan his name as he moves you up and down, smearing your arousal that keeps oozing out of you on his face. he sticks his tongue as deep as he could before pressing his face into you, nose nudging against your bud. he works two jobs between fucking you with tongue and sucking the life out of you from your clit.

it doesn't take you long before you are trembling above him, chanting his name like a prayer. you would've lost your balance long ago if it wasn't for his strong hold around your thighs. he focuses on your clit, flicking the sensitive button with the tip of his tongue before taking it into his mouth to suck.

he presses his tongue flat against your sore pussy before he shakes his head side to side, the movement being hard and fast to give you that pleasurable vibrating friction. soon, he feels you lose it, hands coming to his hair to pull at it, hard. hips desperately trying to move away from his unresting mouth, indicating him that you're about to reach your high.

final and the loudest scream of his name fall from your lips before you completely and utterly lose it. you're sure the whole world of pandora heard you, but you both couldn't give a fuck less about that. in fact, jake's proud of it. he feels your cunt dripping into his mouth and he pulls away just for a millisecond.

“yes baby. such a good girl, gushin' into my mouth oh—” he cuts himself off, lapping up the mixture of your slick and his spit that streams out of you. your lover moans into you, dipping his tongue into you once again, to get more of your sticky liquid. his hand coming up to rest on your stomach, thumb lazily drawing circles on your slick coated clit. he knows you're sensitive but he wants more.

he still tries though, fucking into you slow with his tongue, helping you through your orgasm, hands patting your thighs for comfort. you wait for him to stop so you can get off, but he doesn't. his hold on you only getting tighter as he spreads your thighs even wider. his chin comfortably tucked between your ass cheeks from how deep he's pushing his face into your cunt.

he keeps you plugged full with his tongue, letting you ride it as if it were his fat cock, causing your slick to drip down his tongue directly into his mouth as he gulp the sweet essence down his throat.

you feel like you might die, you thought it was gonna be like a one time thing. you hear him hiss for a moment before he's tugging your legs to his arms. hands holding the underside of your thighs, and then he lifts you off of the bed. you can barely feel your toes touching the mat, your whole body weight on him as he finally reaches his goal by making you actually sit on his face.

your ass resting on his chin as he impatiently buries his face into your warm cave. you want to squirm away and just stop everything because never once in your years of living, did you ever think about actually sitting on someone's face, specifically jake sully's. but you knew better than to move, too afraid that you might hurt him. and even if you tried, he would just yank you back down to where he wants, anyway.

even though you are on top, you don't have much control over this. well, he tried to let you, but you both knew that you've always preferred his way of doing things. tears are starting to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, but you love it.

you love the way his face fits between your legs just right, mouth pressed to your pussy like a human on pandora with an oxygen mask. you would laugh if you weren't just as desperate, with the way he's acting like he might die if he stops, groaning loudly when you try to push his face away, even if just for a second.

you look down to see if he's comfortable but when you did, he's not even looking at you anymore. eyes tightly shut in concentration as he drinks up your slick. it's almost like he's enjoying this more than you are. he rocks you hard against his face, using every muscle to stimulate your core to death.

even though you're a little concerned, this was no surprise to you. Jake has always been wild when it comes to sex. you'd known that since the first memorable night you two had shared. he never even let you spend your heats alone. and for that reason, you rarely touched yourself but mostly because you never felt the need to. he always kept you full and satisfied, even had his little inside joke that he's gonna need his wheelchair back, not for him, but for you.

my jake's so mesmerising, you think. it was a sight, seeing such a pretty face coated and smeared with your arousal. it boosts your ego, seeing a powerful man that so many people bow down to, between your thighs with you sitting on his face, worshipping you like a goddess, so desperate to pleasure you.

and just like that, he coaxes three more orgasms out of you in just a tiny amount of time that it's almost embarrassing.

your throat is sore just like your little clit that's still in jake's mouth. you're sure that he must be hurting too, he didn't even do anything or let you do anything to get him off. he just lets himself suffer and you don't know how on earth is he able to be still so collected, acting like he doesn't have a very angry dick to calm.

even though you can barely open your eyes, tears streaming down your face, thin coat of sweat covering your skin, panting like a dog with your tongue rolled out, you love what's happening, though you'd never say it out loud.

before you know it, two thick slender fingers are plunging into you, making you scream. “c-can't 'nymore! too much. too much!” you can't even form proper words because of the tongue, that is now relentlessly working on your sensitive and overstimulated clit. the way he's fingering you isn't what he normally goes for, it's hard and rough, almost like he's chasing for something.

he watches your hole welcomingly sucking his digits in. “I know, i know. just give me one more baby, just one more then we'll be done.” Jake once again gets you to obey. you feel so small above him as you chant, Jake. Jake!

“Jake! something's coming! I—” he hopes it's what he thinks it is. “shh, let it go baby, I'm right here. I'm gonna take care of you.” and you do just that. and it happens. he feels your whole body shake and your thighs pressing together above his face before he splitting them open again, not wanting to miss the sight he's been dying to see.

jake watches in awe as the clear liquid squirts out of you, pushing his fingers out from how powerful it was. eyes widening as you pour on his face and rolling down his neck and chest. some of it even getting into his mouth, letting him taste your immense amount of pleasure.

he traps your sore clit into the gap of his two fingers and he shakes it as the remaining juices sprays onto his face. and jake fucking whimpers into you as if he's the one who's being pleasured. "so good for me, fuck, yeah just like that. so sweet." your small body shaking and writhing above him was such a pleasing sight. and he's still shocked by the fact that it was all because of him.

he keeps you firm on his face, tongue slowly licking your sore pussy still, making sure you fully rode out your orgasm. he looks up at you just to see your pained expression, you're crying. what the fuck. he lifts you gently off his face, sitting you back down on his lap.

you let a whine out from the friction when the bulge from his crotch touches your sensitive button, which he backs off when he realises. he panics when he sees that you still haven't opened your eyes. “hey, hey! baby...” you smile like an idiot when you hear the familiar sweet like honey voice.

“look at me?” he pleads.

your eyes slowly open but you still keep your head down, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes after what you just did as you mumble a few sorrys' and sob through whatever you were saying, still too fucked up to process anything. but jake wasn't having it. so he starts “look at me,” grabbing your chin up to make eye contact. “you did so good, such a good girl for me. I'm so fucking proud of you. I love you baby, you were so fucking hot you know that?”

now, his voice is clear, you're sobering up, as if he'd just sucked all the alcohol out of your cunt. he reaches for the bowl full of water on the side of the bed and brings it near your lips, giving you no other choice but to drink.

your gaze finally lands on his face and Jake almost let a giggle out from how you completely dipped your head back down. well, how can you not when his face was completely soaked with your cum, your arousal dripping down his face like sweat. he spares you, rubbing your slick off his face with his forearm.

you're sobering up. god, what do i do? a million thoughts runs into your head, eywa please. the way he's looking at you as if you're the only woman to exist in the whole universe, it's not fair, please stop. you beg.

shoving your thoughts away, you lean in. your eyes trailing down to his body, landing on his loincloth, fully soaked with his- wow did he just? you catch a glint of shyness on his face. you tug at his bottom, seeing that he's still rock hard. “no, I'm okay. you need to sleep.” so what? that was it?

“I don't wanna sleep.” you glare, continuing to untie the string on his loincloth.

“princess, you don't have to.” he insists. bringing your hands back in front of his face before pressing kisses on each knuckle. he scoops you up as if you're some doll and lays you down. you don't wanna lie, of course you're tired. but you at least need to feel him, so you try. you pull him by the neck so that he falls on top of you.

“you said you're all mine...” you pout and jake's eyes soften.

“I came just from eating your sweet cunt baby,” you slam your eyes shut from his words. god why? he's so shameless with it too.

“completely untouched.” it makes your stomach filled with guilt as much as it fills you with butterflies.

he buries his face into your neck, which had become his comfort place on your body. you notice that he does it often, whenever he's tired, upset or frustrated. he heavily breathes into your skin as if he's holding back, you know he is. his cock is still hard and you are still wet. you need to feel him, feel his body, feel his soul.

so instead of talking, you quickly tug your longest and the thickest braid before grabbing his own. bringing the ends together, you catch how messy his nerves are moving, revealing the state of his mind. they immediately recognise yours as they rush to tug at each other.

jake's eyes widen at the sudden intrusion of you in his head. he can never resist you, not when he can feel you, not when he can feel the way you yearn for him, the way you beg for him, the way your mind is filled with nothing but him. you didn't give him a chance to prepare, your being taking over his head, he needs a moment.

“inside, want you inside.” before giving him a chance to deny your desire, your hands quickly work to untie the strings on his loincloth while he's was still processing all your thoughts in your head through the bond. it's all too much for him, it always is. whenever you both make tsaheylu, the mere need you feel for him amazes him, makes him wonder just how someone could love him this much.

with his head still buried in the crook of your neck, he feels your fingers wrap around his girth, earning a whimper from him. “you said this is mine too...” you softly say with a frown. “yes fuck yes, it is baby.” you align his length with your entrance, “then please.”

who the fuck is he to deny?

wow now THAT was something 😋

tell me if y'all want a part 2

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itsmeamysworld

1 year ago

a/n: sorry there’s so much drama in this one LOL im nothing if not a sucker for nightmare tropes

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated!

-want to leave a tip? heres my kofi!

A/n: Sorry There’s So Much Drama In This One LOL Im Nothing If Not A Sucker For Nightmare Tropes

The Accused | Simon Riley/Reader

3.

As the morning sun rose and shone through the splintered gaps of the boarded up window, you realized how exactly Ghost got his name.

You weren't sure when he'd arrived, but he was certainly your sight for sore eyes, rising from your fitful slumber. His back faces you, the light dances over the darkness of his tactical gear. For just a moment, you allow yourself to take it in. The birds outside offer a lovely soundtrack. His chair creaks underneath him while his weight shifts.

"Mornin'." Is all he says.

It takes a couple seconds before you're able to sit upright. Your back aches something awful, and you aren't sure if you've ever felt so thirsty in your entire life. Lucky for you, it seemed your friend had brought a couple of gifts. Four water bottles and what appeared to be a few bags of jerky and an assortment of nuts. Your stomach grumbles at the thought, upset at you for not feeding it sooner.

You mumble a good morning as you rise to your feet and take the chair next to him. If not for the situation at hand, you were sure this would have been a lovely morning indeed. The situation at hand only grows worse when Ghost breaks some news.

48 hours, he'd said with a flat tone. Meeting someone out in Las Almas.

For two days you'd be alone, cramped up in this shed with nothing but the everlasting sound of nature as entertainment. To hide the disdain on your face, you grab at one of the bottles and take a long swig. It doesn't work. But it also doesn't stop him from taking his leave less than an hour later.

The rest of the day was spent in phases of isolation. The first phase, immediate boredom, came with anxiety quickly in tow. Ghost would be across the country and you were merely a few miles away from base. It was over if someone decided to stray away just as you used to do and actually found you here. Running couldn't save you forever.

Phase two was quieter. Your left side ached as the bruises began to settle deep into your bones. The birds chirped high in the sky, your tired eyes numbly watching the light cracking through the windows morph from a proud yellow to a dim orange. And, eventually, white with the moon casting through the trees.

You slept better that night- fed and hydrated, mind empty and full all at once with questions. What if's haunted you deep in your core.

By day two you were starting to feel better, but the air around you felt heavier than before. Moist, almost. The shed was dim. When you peeked outside, tentative and afraid that even poking your head out the door would render your life over, you realized that dark clouds had rolled over the sky and parked right on above. Wind blew through the leaves and you could practically smell the impending storm brewing.

When it began to rain, late into the evening, it was nothing too serious. Light pattering on the thin roof, a couple drops slipping through gaps in the shingles and puddling on the floor.

When the thunder cracked over the sky it almost sounded like a bomb. You jumped in your seat so hard you almost fell off, scampering to the window and peeking through the tiny cracks. The wind had grown menacing, tearing through the branches and launching leaves to the grass. Just as before, the sky remained just as baleful as it had been that afternoon.

Eventually, the rain began to come down like it was hail. It beat the roof ruthlessly, more and more water gathering on the floor as it forced its way through the ramshackle shed. You tucked yourself up on the chair, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to have faith in your little shack to keep you safe. There was nowhere else to go- this was it. With no blanket, you were reduced to a shivering mess, listening to the deafening chants of the falling rain.

But, even through it, you could still make out something else.

A great clap of thunder. The unmistakable sound of craning wood. And then an ear-splitting crash. You'd barely even managed to hop from your chair in time.

You felt the wind on your skin before you felt anything else.

And then, water. Lots of it- soaking you almost instantaneously. Pieces of wood and metal lay at your feet, surrounding you, your mind struggling to grasp what the hell was going on. Roaring gusts of wind echoed in your ears.

Standing there, your eyes finally adjusted through the murky darkness just enough to see leaves and branches bent at all angles before you. A great tree lays horizontal through the shed, mere feet away from where you stood. Moon poured in through the gaping maw of what used to be the roof.

The chairs you and Ghost once shared lay shattered to bits under its mammoth weight.

The tree welcomed the entire night into your little safe haven. Angry outbursts of winds, the relentless rain showering every inch of your body. In an attempt to protect yourself, you crushed yourself up into a corner of the shed, the only part of it with a chunk of roof remaining semi-intact. It bowed down, barely held up by the wooden posts, but it dipped just enough where the water ran down it and pooled at your feet.

Tears bite at your eyes, and you let them. They fall in heavy streaks.

And your chest heaved, your hands shook. The storm swallowed your cries, hungry and angry and ripping away any last remaining shred of normalcy you had. Everything around you seemed to be riddled with fractures just waiting to shatter. You grieved the life you had merely three days ago- spent more on the upside than down and wasting your in-between hours alongside Ghost.

Ghost. Beautiful, enigmatic, scary Ghost. With all of those rough edges and those forlorn eyes. He haunts your mind as you fold into yourself, but your limbs offer little cover to the elements. Your head hurts, your body aches something deep and awful. Your skin burns at the cocktail assaulting you- equal parts the pelting rain and the whipping of the wind pitching shards of wood and glass at your weak frame.

A part of you wonders if this would be your demise. If, out of all the wrong cursing your life, this would be your downfall. Cramped in the corner of a shed attempting to outlive mother nature like some pitiful stray thing. Your protective grip on yourself tightens. The nightmare doesn't end.

And the storm rages longer than you can stay awake for.

You remain where you sit even in your dreams. The world is all underwater garbles, the branches of the fallen tree try to reach out and grasp at your shaking body. It's almost like being in a bubble- feeling so full an empty all at once. Hearing the raging storm but it's booming voice just can't seem to fully reach you. But, you swear you hear something else.

You swear, with your face tucked into your knees, you can hear your voice rising above the thunder and the whirlwind.

And then it's like you can feel hands on your skin. Gloved, but warm. Something soft and fuzzy tucked wrapped around you. Those hands pull your arms off your cut-up legs and then you're weightless. It reminds you of your fall. Weightless, hung by your hand. Your eyes screw shut and you're torn from your spot like a ragdoll. Clearly, your soul must be leaving your body.

"-Up."

That faraway voice reaches you. It tears through the veil.

"-Hear m-"

You blink. Everything suddenly rushes in- real. The lamenting winds, the torrent of rain, the creaking of wood and the whipping of leaves on shaking branches.

The softness of a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Then, it all stops when you lock eyes with those familiar, melancholic blues. He's shrouded in black, the edges of his form painted in the most beautiful of blues, droplets gathered on his gear reflecting in what little light the moon could creep through those rich clouds. He touches your face. He holds your face. And then he's picking you up like you're broken and you try to remember the last time you've been treated with some fragility. You try to think back to a time when you'd been treated with such care.

"Ghost." You murmur, your own voice the loudest thing reaching your ears.

"Me." He says, and it draws tears of relief to your already wet eyes. You sink into his large arms, allow him to duck out of what remained of the shed. Allow him to pull you to his chest so tightly it's almost too much of him. Almost.

But it never gets to the point. You press your head against him and swear you can hear his heartbeat thrashing in his ribcage, restless. For the first time that night, you felt safe. Utterly safe in his hold. If your body could say thank you, it would have.

The relief knocks you out a moment later.

----------

It's warm when you stir awake. Quiet.

Soft.

When your eyes open, met with a burst of yellow light, you struggle to grasp where you were. Your elbows try to prop you up, but they sink into something plush.

It takes a few moments to realize you're a sopping-wet mess laying atop a couch. Your clothes stuck you grossly, but the cushions you lap upon make it hard to feel uncomfortable. You almost wondered if this was the dream. If you were going to wake any moment in a jump to defend yourself or run, scamper into the stormy night and earn one more day on earth.

But then you see a window with tightly shut blinds. You see a coffee table with coasters, a tiny TV mounted on a wooden entertainment center. An air conditioner pokes out of the wall and it strikes you how similar it is to your flat back at the base.

Like instinct, you glance to your right, and sure enough, you're met with a kitchen you recognize so eerily you have to pinch yourself. A half wall divides the two rooms, the stove visible with the steam outpouring from a kettle.

You were back at base. You were sure of it now.

But it was as if your flat never had the loving touch of personal taste. No photos, no decor. Void of anything to suggest a person with a life worth living inhabited it. It felt hauntingly empty. The same blanket you'd had tucked against you lay a crumpled pile atop the armrest. Your eyes linger on it longer than they should, mind still half empty with sleep and confusion.

You reach out, and you draw your fingers along the blissfully soft fabric of the blanket. It reminds you of your own blankets, and the saddening realization that you may never get a bed of your own ever again, should you not clear your name somehow. You get lost in your thoughts, idly running your fingers along the blanket, still damp from the rain.

"Enjoyin' yourself?"

Ghost's voice pops you out of the bubble you'd slipped into. He stands there in the kitchen, his torso visible over the dividing half wall. The first thing you notice is his evening attire- a skull print etched over a his black fabric mask and a casual black t-shirt spread gaunt over his muscles. It never struck you how naked he looked without his gear on. How bare he seemed with his ruffled blonde hair and thick eyebrows on full display.

The second thing you notice is the sudden shrew scream of the kettle, forgotten on the stove. Ghost settles a pile of clothes on the table and turns to tend to the piercing sound.

For some reason, your mind remains far away. Like you're watching through a lens, not truly where you were. All your brain seemed to want to focus on was the softness of the blanket. The faint smell of amber spice lingering in the air. Your eyes travel to the outline of Ghost, particularly to the broadness of his shoulders, and to the way he moved so languidly, pouring water into a pair of mugs.

You don't even fully realize it when he's suddenly walked directly in front of you, your mind lagging. The mugs are set on the coffee table, and in two snaps of his fingers an inch away from your face, you're blinking up at him like you'd been ripped from a trance.

"You there?" He asks, and you finally offer a response.

"I'm here." You murmur, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm confused. Are we at mine?"

Ghost shakes his head. "Mine."

Your stomach drops like lead. Settles in your gut when he adds, so keep your head down. It's a struggle to digest his words when you're suddenly keenly aware that one wrong move, one wrong sound would have you surrounded. It would be over before the chase even began. Ghost senses your dismay- reads it off the lines in your face that drag your features into a sinking frown.

"No where else to bring you." He admits, settling beside you. "This'll do for now. Just got to keep your head down."

His words do so little to ease you that it actually makes you laugh. Low, pitiful chuckles. "Simon Riley harboring a fugitive. You're a changed man."

"Not changed anything. You'd do it for me." Is all he says with a huff, and you know he's telling the truth. He reaches down and grasps a mug, and he brings it to your lap.

Your hands shake as they reach out, the chill of wet clothes still biting at your bones. It's nearly comical when you take the mug into your own hands, the immediate ripples bouncing off the walls as it shook in your hold.

"Christ. Give me that." Ghost sighs, and before you're even able to respond, he's plucking the cup from your trembling fingers.

Then he's bringing it to your lips and you're so excited to finally drink something that you barely even register how close he is. How he has to shrink himself to be beside you, how gently he tips the mug back while you sip. The warmth drops to the floor of your empty stomach and relief washes over you so intensely it nearly draws tears. How emotional you’d become, the last few days pushing you to your limits. But now you have real shelter, Ghost at your side, a bit more color in your vision and of course the luxury of warm tea.

You're so eager to get it down that droplets gather and fall from the corners of your lips. They dribble down your chin and you pull away with a grimace, swiping at your skin.

" 'Sposed to drink it." Ghost says, and it leaves him so sweetly.

You match the smile you swore you'd heard in his words. When Ghost brings the cup back up to your lips, much less tentative this time around, you can't help but subconsciously reach up to paw at this wrist. The dull ache of an empty stomach ebbs away as you empty the cup, and finally, your sore muscles relax into jelly.

"There you go." Ghost's voice, low and observant. Something in the tone makes you squirm under your skin, and you're met with the reality of being disappointed when he pulls away and sets the cup aside.

It makes you all too aware of the heat over your face, and you lower your head to escape his gaze. A quiet thanks leaves your lips.

"Clothes are on the table, no chance they'll fit you though. Better than being soaked." Ghost's large hands clap over your knee before he stands up. "Washrooms on the left."

When he leaves the room, and you start feeling that gnawing sense of isolation, you finally take to standing and wander into the bathroom. Its white light on even whiter walls blind you for a moment. When your eyes adjust, you're met with eyebags and wet, messy hair. Cut up arms and shaking hands. You look like you've aged 10 years. Your wet clothes plop down in piles as you shed them, layer by layer.

It felt strange to be in Ghost's house. Even more, it felt strange to be naked in Ghost's house. Quickly you unfold the clothes he'd provided, and then proceed to gawk.

Ghost hadn't been kidding. They did not fit. Just the t-shirt alone engulfed you. Somehow you managed to secure the sweatpants around your waist after finagling the drawstrings into a belt. Your legs swam in the fabric pooled around your feet. Haphazardly you roll them into cuffs.

Ghost, again, wasn't kidding. Shucked of your wet clothes, blanketed by his, you were already feeling better. The world felt a little less shattered around you. You hang your old clothes over the shower rod in the hope’s they’d be dry by morning.

When you leave the bathroom and saunter back to his kitchen, you find him there leaning against the table in wait. For a brief moment, he doesn't see you enter. And for that brief moment, your eyes plant on the sliver of skin visible between the gap of where his t-shirt ended, and his mask began. His gaze flicks over to yours and you meet it.

"Better?" He asks.

"A lot better." You say with a relieved sigh. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes downcast, thinking the night over. "Goodbye hangout spot."

"Hangout spot? Are we fifteen?" Ghost scoffs, laughing lowly under his breath. He motions for you to follow and you're led into a modest bedroom.

"Come on, it was like a hangout spot. And now it's gone." Your voice falls at the end, and doesn't go unnoticed by his listening ears. He watches you through the corners of his eyes. "Was one of my favorites, too."

"We'll find another." He offers.

You shrug. "It won't be the same."

Ghost sighs and wanders to the side of the bed, and only then do you notice the blankets laid out on the floor.

"We'll make it the same. Come on, you need some sleep."

When he pulls the blanket from the mattress back in invitation, you frown. Even more so when he begins to kneel on the blankets mounted on the floor.

"I'm not sleeping in your bed. I'll take the floor." You deadpan. He shakes his head.

"Absolutely not."

"Man, come on. Let me."

"Not a chance." He settles over the blankets, laying flat on his back. You crawl onto the bed to peek over the edge down at him.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

Those blues peer up at you from the floor. They roll, his voice a grunt. "Shut it. When's the last time you got real sleep?"

You scoff. "You're gonna' talk to me about getting real sleep? I could ask you the same question."

Ghost laughs deep in his chest. A sound you rarely get the joy of hearing. But then he rolls over, back facing you, and you feel him shut the argument down in one fell swoop. Your combative perspective dies somewhere in the back of your brain, and suddenly your new focus is just how plush Ghost's bed is. It sucks you in, it feels. Practically reaches up with and tugs you down against it. You sprawl out, your muscles crying out in relief.

The scent of him surrounding you is intoxicating. As is the deep, soft breaths you hear from the floor. Your head suddenly becomes too heavy to lift.

"You know what," You mumble with half-lidded eyes. "I think I am gonna' take the bed."

Whether Ghost answers or not, you're unsure, asleep nearly the same second the last syllable left your lips. A heavy dream cloaks the forefront of your mind.

And it paints such awful pictures.

Fireworks of light, clapping explosions, and the distant howls of your friend's voices echo cry into the back of your mind. All you know is that you're running, your legs struggling to heave the weight of you. Darkness nips at your heels as you flee. Hands grab at you from all angles, long twisting fingers rooted to bony knuckles.

The crashing waves of the emptiness pass you with ease and you're swallowed into nothingness. Your feet splash through it like a pitch-black puddle. Though warped, you catch your own reflection in the murky depths. You kneel down and reach out, touch at the wet surface. It rippled like water but sat on your finger thick, like honey.

It reeked of tar.

And before you knew it, staring at the black ooze, a hand crashes through the surface and wraps it's spindly fingers around your arm. It yanks, rips you down. You struggle to your feet with an outcry, find your footing despite the hands hold, just to see more hand breaching. Your feet sink inches into the murk. The hands claw at your ankles, and then your legs. The ground drinks you down. Your thighs, then your waist.

"Fucking hell." A voice garbles, echoing and distant. The choir of outcries beat against your eardrums.

Your eyes search, and they land on something emerging from the darkness. A creature shadowed in the darkness blossomed, its dripping teeth and glowing eyes drawing closer. The air pulls from your lungs and you choke on nothing.

The creature claps its talons over your shoulders, its grip puncturing bullet-sized holes into your flesh. You rip and tear fruitlessly. It taunts you, laughs at you. Gargles your name out fuzzy and far away. You're suffocating.

"Look at me!" It chants, shaking you ragged. "Open your eyes!"

Your mind statics and blurs around the edges. Your eyes clench shut, and then tear back open, and it's like being pulled out of the water. You suck in your first full breath. A hand presses firm to your cheek and you react with vitriol, ripping away with its touch. Fighting harder when it persists, another hand planting on your shoulder to keep you still. The image of the monster lights up in your mind, with its piercing stare and snapping jaws.

"It's me!" A voice rings in your ears from a foot away. Right there, real. It reaches into your mind and drags you out with a thrashing heart and heaving chest.

The creature melts into the familiar shape of Ghost before your eyes, and that's when you realize it's silent. Nothing but the sound of both of your heavy breaths. The color floods back.

"It's me." He says again, softer this time, edged with gruffness. He touches at your arm, the other still set firm on your other shoulder. You peer up with him through tears.

"I couldn't breathe." Is all you manage to sputter.

For a long moment, he studies you. Then he drags his touch down the length of your arm, to your shaking wrists. He pulls at your hands and gently drags you to sit before he settles beside you. He sinks the mattress down and you don't stop yourself from tilting and resting on him, too tired to fight anything anymore. Besides, you needed it. Needed to feel his presence, the sense of safety his energy alone provided.

When he doesn't immediately shift away, you wonder if he knows it too. Or, maybe he feels pity. Feels bad and isn't really sure what to do other than just... be there. Which doesn't necessarily not work. When your body goes lax against him, you can hear the deep, long breath that escapes him.

Relief.

Relief because finally you seem like you’re all together.

"I'm sorry for making you take care of me." You croak. "Fuck, this is so embarrassing."

"Enough of that. Relax." Ghost's voice is so quiet. You don't think you'd ever heard him bring his voice so low, barely even audible. You wonder if you'd scared him, somehow. Or perhaps he felt if he spoke too harsh, too loud, you’d be rocketed back into your spiraling.

The image of that monster you'd gone face to face with seeps into your thoughts. It sends a chill over the plains of your skin, reminds you how vulnerable to feel without a blanket on. As if he reads your mind, Ghost drags it up from the foot of the bed and drapes it over you. Even goes so far as to slightly tuck the edges haphazardly.

When you realize he goes without, you frown.

"Here," You say, lifting the side of the blanket and tossing it over his legs. Any minute now, you expect him to roll his eyes and return to his place back on the floor.

But, instead, he gets comfortable. He shifts, sinks into the bed just a little more. Breathes just a little deeper. Warmth blooms in your chest and rides straight up to your cheeks, masked by the darkness. You can't however, hide mask the smile that takes over your lips when his shoulders go slack. His head tips to rest on yours.

The world stops turning for a moment. Lost in his breathing, his heartbeat slowing in your ears. Somehow, you think deep in your mind, that perhaps this had made it all worth it. His hands rest in his lap, just as yours do.

Barely, just barely, you touch the back of your knuckles to his own and let your eyes fall shut. His skin vibrates against yours.

You aren't sure the exact moment you doze off into a quiet slumber, but you do, fit with heavy eyelashes and mirrored breaths.

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itsmeamysworld

2 months ago

What you need

J. B. Barnes x F! Reader

Sum: Bucky comes home from a mission, and doesn't even make it past the door without you already pouncing on him ♡

Warning: Smut!!! 2k words of pure and utter filth. Thigh riding if you squint, married relationship, riding, missionary, creampie, piv sex (don't try this at home,) lots of kissing, reader is very very desperate and needy. NOT beta read.

A/n: Shitty ass short ass thing I wrote at midnight because progesterone goes crazy and I need to ride New Avengers Bucky. Goodnight.

18+ content up ahead. MDNI!!!

[ my marvel request box is back open. please see my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules. ]

He doesn't even get to set his keys down before you were on him.

You throw yourself into him so hard you knock him against the front door. Your arms are around his neck, forcing him to bend down to your height as you stand on your tip-toes and attack his face with kisses. He's so caught off guard that his eyes don't close as he tries to keep up with your kisses.

"Oh--Hi baby. Hi. Hi." He murmurs against your lips as you kiss him like a wild animal, your lips kissing every inch of his skin, leaving faint pink marks behind from your lipgloss. His hands lay at your hips, fingers curiously threading through the lace of the lavender panties you were wearing under your babydoll bra.

"How are you?" He tries to ask but you growl, pinning him to the door with your hand on his chest and your lips on his jaw.

"I cleaned the house." You nearly whine, your voice coming off as needy. "Mopped the floor, cleaned the stove, did the dishes, baked your favorite cheesecake." You continued, kissing the facial hair on his face that sprinkled down to his neck. Fuck, he was outgrowing his beard and his hair again, and fuck, you needed him so bad.

"I did the laundry--and fuck, James, I even cleaned the car." You told him, mouthing at the crook of his neck, your hands flying anywhere, touching every part of him like it was the last time you'd be seeing him. Bucky groaned and pulled his head back from you a bit.

"Baby, baby." He muttered, leaning back and putting his hands on your cheeks lovingly. You had this look in your heavy lidded eyes, a look that told him you were beyond the point of no return. "Slow down, what's up with you?"

It didn't take long for you to get mad and pull him back down onto you. Your fingers curled into the soft green fabric of his henley and you growled at him like you were mad at him. You backed up until you hit the couch. Bucky's eyebrows were knitted, confused as he tried to read you. His hands on your hips were restricting you from falling back like you wanted to.

"Need you so bad, James, please. Push me onto the couch?" You begged him, mouthing at the corner of his mouth, his beard scratching your skin. You nuzzled your face into his facial hair, earning a confused groan from your husband.

"Baby, where is all of this coming from--"

You cut him off with another kiss. Your tongue quickly slipped into his mouth, and the both of you moaned. His hands slipped down to your ass, gently cupping your flesh into his hands and making you gasp into his mouth. Shockwaves were sent through your body, along with a particular warmth spreading to your core. Given the way your tongue was moving around his, you needed him bad. So, he gave in.

Gently, he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back onto the couch. You feel back with a surprised grunt, the couch creaking loudly as you hit the black leather cushions. You panted, bracing yourself on your elbows as you watched your husband crawl onto the couch and up your body.

The sight had your pussy aching. His long brown hair was falling into his face, and the smile on his wet lips was absolutely sinful. Your thighs pressed together, but he was quicker. He pulled them apart fast and harsh, making you gasp.

"Poor baby." He crooned, kissing your inner thigh. "Left you alone too long." He kissed higher that time. "You missed me so bad, didn't you, honey?"

You were gasping, nodding your head along frantically as you looked down at him, curious as to what he was going to do.

"Mm I know you did." He said, his mouth coming into contact with your dripping core through your soaked through panties. "This pretty little pussy tells me so anyway."

He mouthed at the fabric, his lips brushing through the tiny wet spot on it. You made a little noise at it, your hands shooting to his head, your fingers threading through his long hair.

Your voice came out in a pathetic little plea that had him twitching through his boxers. He swallowed thickly, kissed your cunt one more time, then rose up your body like the sun on a Saturday morning.

"James," you moaned, tugging at his scalp. He looked up at you and hummed. "Please fuck me. I need it so bad, baby."

His leg nestled between your thick things, his knee nudging right where you needed him most. His arms were braced by the sides of your face, and he was looking down at you with a blank, stern face than had your thighs clenching around his thigh.

"Beg." He said, his knee nudging your cunt. You mewled, your head falling back weakly. Your hips bucked, and moved without your permission, and your cunt dragged across the denim of his jeans.

"Alright," he said. "Show me how much you missed me."

"Please, baby." You cried, clawing at his sleeved forearms with big eyes. "Missed you so much. Just need your cock in me so bad, Bucky." You were breathless, grinding against his thick, muscular thigh helplessly like it was the only fucking thing keeping you alive. He looked down at your little movements and grinned.

He sat back on his knees, quick hands working to discard the black leather belt around his waist like it was only an obstacle in his way of getting to his goal. The second the belt was off, you were on him. Your panties were off in almost an instant, and you were straddling his lap faster than you could say the word 'go.'

Bucky placed his hands on your hips, watching carefully as you lowered yourself onto his thick, heavy cock, which you stood up with the palm of your hand. The both of you groaned as he entered you fully, stretching you out completely to accommodate his length.

You were moving immediately, rolling your hips across his lap at a controlled pace that wasn't exactly fast but wasn't slow either. His hands stayed on your hips to keep you balanced, and your hands stayed on his shoulders for extra support.

"Yeah, that's right, honey." He moaned back into your ear, his hands sliding down to your ass to cup your flesh into his large hands. You squealed, the sensation urging you on. You removed your face from his neck, and you sped up, bouncing on your husband fat cock like a bitch in fucking heat. In a way, you were. You just couldn't stop clinging onto him like you were scared someone was going to take him from you.

"Oh fuck." You moaned, almost directly into his ear as you lowered your face onto his shoulder, your pace speeding up by just a tad. Usually, Bucky spent hours with just foreplay, but tonight, you seemed to have the upper hand and we're straight to the point. He was almost shocked by it.

"Ride me, pretty girl." He growled into your ear, spanking your ass and making you audibly yelp. "Just like that, honey. You missed this? Hmm?" He questioned as if he already didn't have the answer right in front of him. You closed your eyes and moaned gutteraly, your head lulling back as you moved up and down on his lap.

"I thought about it too, baby." He agreed, lowering his head to look down at where your bodied we're combined.

"Yeah--yeah. Fuck! Mm-thought about it everyday you were gone." You admitted between gasps and moans. Bucky just chuckled deeply, finding the answer amusing.

Sweet, lewd, loud, wet and utterly obscene little gushy noises were echoed throughout your bedroom as you rode him like a goddamned rodeo. The little noises combined with little noises the two of you made with your mouths, was a recipe for your pussy squirting all over him.

You grabbed his shoulders then, slowly as to not hurt yourself, lowered yourself all the way down onto your husbands cock until you hit the hilt. His cockhead brushed against a particular sweet spot in you, and you straight up whimpered and threw your head on his shoulders once again, moaning loudly as you slowly fucked yourself into that spot with his cock.

"James," you panted.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Take over, please." You moaned, palming your breast lightly. He grinned, giving you that kind of look that read, "I thought you'd never ask," and in an instant, you were flipped back on your back and he was already back on fucking you.

Bucky pulled out of you just a couple inches before he slammed back into you, making you cry out and claw at his forearms like you would die if you didn't. Chants of his name left your lips like a goddamn mantra. The couch creaked and moved slightly under your moving bodies, joining with your panting and little wet sounds of his cock pushing into you.

"Oh, fuck, sugar." He moaned, rough and gutteral. "Little pussy's squeezing me so tight. Oh, poor thing needed my cock in her so bad, hmm?"

He pulled back a bit, just to pin your knees to your chest, folding you in half and making you feel ten time more embarrassed and exposed than you already were. The new position made it easy for him to sink deeper into you, and deeper he went. So deep that your mouth flew open in shock and you swore your vision went white for a moment.

"Greedy little thing, especially this pussy." He groaned, smiling down on you devilishly and making your pussy flutter. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss, making you whimper and whine into his mouth as he thrust into you hard and fast.

"Keep up, pretty girl." He said, leaning down to kiss your neck. Your head lulled back into the cushion of the couch and your vision blurred into the ceiling.

"You begged for this." He reminded, letting your legs fall back down so he could rub your clit with a vibranium middle finger. You gasped, and your walls clamped down on him tight. He groaned.

"You gonna cum soon, gorgeous?"

"Oh fuck, there she is." He laughed darkly, tilting his head. You closed your eyes and moaned loudly, your heels scraping his back, your nails digging into his shoulder blades.

His voice rang in your ears like a sweet melody, but all you could focus on mentally was how fucking amazing it finally felt to be dicked down by him like this after so long. The sex was so good that you wanted to cry.

"Yeah," you breathed. His finger rubbed harsh circles into your tiny little button, making you moan so loud that it almost sounded pornographic. His cock twitched, and your drooling pussy throbbed for more friction--more anything.

The words fell from your lips in a sweet, broken plead.

"Yeah, gonna cum soon." You repeated, opening your eyes to lock with his. "Want--want you to cum.. in-inside."

And then something snapped in the both of you, and you found yourself gripping his shoulders tight and holding your breath as you slowly started pouring down on him like milky raindrops.

Bucky looked down at the little white ring forming around his thick cock, and moaned. You came gushing out on him warm and messy. The both of you were moaning and panting, but he didn't stop. He kept fucking into you slowly, rocking his fat cock into your sobbing pussy--in and out, in and out, until he finally lost control and a thick, hot stream of his cum came spurring into your warmth.

You mewled at the intoxicating sensation of him filling you, and a few seconds later, he was collapsing onto the cushion next to you and spooning you against his broad chest.

The room was silent for several minutes while the both of you tried to catch your breath, but once he had decided he was fine, he leaned into you and chuckled, "we haven't done that in a while."

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