dizzy-after-dark

[dizzy-after-dark]

─── Sanctuary // B. Katsuki

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader — Word count: 30k

Content warnings: coworkers -> lovers, eventual smut, all chapters will have their own warnings, commissioned series

Summary: Surely there can be no consequences falling in love with your explosive boss, right? A series following the trials and tribulations of falling in love (deeper, deeper, deeper) with The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight (but with you, it’s Katsuki, always Katsuki).

Chapter one: In the early morning, my yearning soul laid bare

Chapter two: No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her

Chapter three: I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Chapter four: You’re my sanctuary

───

Bonus chapter: Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue

[dizzy-after-dark]

Thank you lovely ❤️⭐️

Week 3 Reblog Masterlist

Welcome to Week 3 2024 or Week 211, as always, fics would be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check my January reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 2 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 4 2024 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 3 2024:

Hot neighbor (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @e-dubbc11 💚

A threat beneath the nice veneer (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @witchywithwhiskey❤️

A line without s hook (Clint Barton X Reader) by @mqctavish 💚 💙

Signed (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @abbatoirablaze 💙

Competition (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ultralightpoe 💚

Safe sound (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @demonsandmischief 💙

Hot coco kisses (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @elixirfromthestars 💚

Sealed (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @abbatoirablaze 💙

New world order part 3 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @queen-of-the-avengers 💚

Kissing booth (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckys-wintersoldier 💚

First kiss since 1945 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sergeantbarnessdoll 💚

Delivered (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @abbatoirablaze 💙

Sirius (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @chxrryhansen 💚 💙

Eat dessert first (Frank Castle X Reader) by @flightlessangelwings ❤️

Returning the stones 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @royalwriteroftheuniverse 💚 💙

Back and forth part 31 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @anika-ann 💚

Whispers (Brock Rumlow X Reader X Frank Castle) by @itwasthereaminuteago❤️

Magic in mistletoe (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mrsbuckybarnes1917 💚

The dignity of his choice abridged (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly 💚

Only you (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sunvmars 💙

Jennifer fic (Jeniffer Check X Reader) by @imyourbratzdoll❤️

Thanks to those troglodytes (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @profeyandere 💙

The fate of a fae part 3 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes 💚

Adoption (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckys-wintersoldier 💚

Midnight kiss (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly 💚

Make it up to me (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @domripley ❤️

Steve fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @krirebr 🖤❤️

Cauterized (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @dizzy-after-dark 💙❤️

#all my ❤️

[dizzy-after-dark]

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over. 

Baby I— 

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet. 

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same. 

She should just throw it out. 

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well. 

She’s already made too many ghosts. 

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though. 

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right? 

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more. 

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.  

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really. 

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet. 

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine. 

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for. 

That’s still Steve— her Steve. 

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”  

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days. 

Her silence is deafening. 

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him. 

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.” 

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell. 

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him. 

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war. 

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”  

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them. 

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something? 

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore. 

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.” 

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad? 

Is it anger? 

Or is it something much more primal. 

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him. 

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.” 

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do. 

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers. 

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry. 

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts. 

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze. 

She’s caught— he gets it now. 

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?” 

She only blinks at him. Once… twice… 

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter. 

Come on, Steve. 

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that? 

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out. 

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first? 

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.  

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate. 

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy? 

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.” 

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense. 

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing? 

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun? 

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—”  she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.” 

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one— 

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening. 

He’s relentless. 

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat. 

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels. 

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?” 

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.” 

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—” 

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.” 

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it. 

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”   

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.” 

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks. 

Oh.  

 Oh. 

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long. 

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him. 

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy. 

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.  

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain. 

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more. 

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately. 

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.   

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”  

And she does. 

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it. 

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be. 

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit. 

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless. 

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—” 

“—Stevie!” 

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much. 

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles. 

“Of course.” 

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there. 

Cauterized, or something like it. 

#Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel smut #MCU smut #Avengers smut #dizzy is BACK #did you miss me?

[dizzy-after-dark]

Welcome to my Masterlist 💌

hi, i'm murphy. my requests are always open - feel free to send any ideas or thoughts you have - i'll always read them all.

note - all of my fics are reader insert. no use of y/n. i don't write for real people, only characters <3

Last Updated - December 9th

❁ - over 1k notes

✯ - a series

Characters I Write For.

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist. 1k Celebration Masterlist. 3k Celebration Masterlist.

Moodboard Masterlist. My Ao3.

 ⊹ 　 ✫ 　　 · 　　 ✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵  　.　 ✦ * 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　　　

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

The Orange. ❁

You and Jake share an orange. He's in love with you.

For Eternity. (Part 2 of The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

North Star. ❁

It's New Year's Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

I Know Places.

Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Why Choose?

A drunken game of spin the bottle gets a little heated. Why choose, when you can have both?

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

Dr Cupid.

Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Lessons in Love. ❁

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Honey Girl. ✯❁

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Trick or Treat.

You love Halloween. Bucky loves you.

Stucky

Letters to the Moon.

Steve is gone. The love you and Bucky have for him isn't.

Wishbone.

You meet Bucky and Steve while on the run. The three of you quickly learn that nothing is more violent than love.

Frank Castle

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Criminal Minds

Luke Alvez

Wherever You Are. That's Where Home Is.

Luke might be a mind reader. Only with you, though.

Vice.

Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Spencer Reid

Web of Lies. ✯

Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep one from you.

Cowboy!Spencer ✯

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Narcos

Javier Peña

Self Control. ❁

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Yes, Mr President.

There's an endless amount of things you shouldn't do as the President of the United States. Defiling the Oval Office is definitely one of them.

Western Nights. ✯

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Jealousy, Jealousy. ❁

Javier Peña doesn't share.

Two Murphy's and a Peña.

Javier knows Steve's sister is off limits. He's never been one to follow the rules.

After Hours.

You and Javier are stuck in the office in the middle of a heatwave. You're hot in more ways than one.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Triple Frontier

Time. ❁

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will each have their own ways of helping you heal.

Tethered. ❁

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

They say home is where the heart is. Your heart belongs to the four boys you call your best friends. Also known as - four important times the guys told you they loved you.

Will Miller

Champagne Fuelled Confessions.

You come home drunk, and have something burning you need to tell Will.

Best Friend's Brother.

You've known Benny for years. You've had a crush on his brother Will for years, too.

Frankie Morales

Find You.

A bad date brings Frankie Morales to your door at the perfect time.

Rain Soaked Romantic.

Frankie will run across town in the rain if it means finally telling you how he feels.

Santiago Garcia

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Precious Girl.

A chance meeting with your Dad's best friend at 2am.

Benny Miller

Adrenaline.

Ben needs a way to work off his post match energy. You.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Pretty When You Cry. ❁

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Clandestine. ✯

You and Stewy know it's wrong. So why, pray tell, does it feel so right?

Fully Clothed.

Being Stewy's assistant has its perks.

Consequence.

Stewy's actions have unexpected consequences.

Needy.

You've been waiting all day for Stewy to get home. He loves it.

Play Pretend.

The classic fake dating trope, with a twist.

The Place Where It All Began.

You reunite with Stewy at your high school reunion. Turns out, he's been waiting for you, all this time.

Risky.

The thrill of being caught makes it all the more exciting.

Kendall Roy

Me and You.

You quit as Kendall's assistant. He's been waiting for this day.

Illicit Affair.

You're Matssons wife. You're also in love with Kendall Roy.

Forced Proximity.

The classic only one bed trope, this time with your emotionally unavailable boss.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

The Roommate Collection. ✯

Finders, Keepers. ❁

Pity Party. ❁

Sweet Dreams. ❁

Hands On.

Carmen. ❁

Denial. ❁

Mechanic!Carmen

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

9-1-1

Evan Buckley

Lightning Strike. ❁

The two of you deal with the aftermath of Bucks trauma.

Fire Hazard.

The story of your firehouse nickname - and Buck unable to handle you in a sundress.

Evan Buckley & Eddie Diaz

The Look of Love.

You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Heatwave. ❁

You cut Jax's hair. He can't keep his hands to himself.

Filip 'Chibs' Telford

Teach Me How to Ride.

Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Miscellaneous

Steve Harrington

Cherry. ❁

The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

[dizzy-after-dark]

Honey Girl. The Masterlist.

Series Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. age gap (but all legal and consensual). cursing. angst.

Author's Note - another idea i've had for so long!! set in a beautiful coastal beach town - picture sunshine, sailing, beaches and your dad's hot best friend. what more could you want?

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

The Playlist.

The Moodboard.

#oh I will be CONSUMING THIS tmr

[dizzy-after-dark]

hii can I get whiskey w Steve Rogers for oral/face riding?

Adjusting.

warnings - smut. cursing.

nomad steve makes me feral. that's all. I was feeling this one.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He's adjusting, to this new life.

He's shy. Taking it one day at a time. Reminding himself to breathe when things get overwhelming.

Soon, he finds his feet. Regains his confidence. Starts asking for things, setting boundaries, taking what he wants a little more.

He keeps surprising you. With his knowledge, new slang he uses, his ability to use a phone. He's a fast learner.

He's braver, now.

He's adjusting.

Trying to get used to the fact that women aren't as seemingly fragile as they were. They run the world more openly, now, and Steve loves it.

He loves you.

Tries to show you how much when he's got you between his sheets, kissing every inch of skin he can find. Gentle, tender, careful.

You tell him that you know he loves you, no matter what. He doesn't have to be so tentative. It doesn't change the way you look at him.

He's in a lust fuelled haze when he finds the courage.

"Sit on my face."

You choke on your breath, gasping for air.

"What?"

"You heard me, honey. Sit on my face. Now."

You've never seen him like this. Frayed at the edges, feral almost. His eyes are as dark as the wet spot between your legs.

You quirk a brow at him in challenge, but he doesn't back down. So you grant him his wish. Crawling up his body until you're hovering over his pretty face, deep gaze focused on you.

"Is this what you want?" you whisper.

"More than anything."

He's practically growling, voice lower and rougher than you've ever heard it. You owe a thanks to whatever has got him so riled up.

He tugs you down to his mouth with two strong hands around your thighs, grip hard enough that you know you'll bruise tomorrow. You can't wait.

You tangle your fingers through his golden blonde locks and tug, whining when he groans, from the depths his chest. The two of you are animalistic, finally tapping into the carnal desires that have been there all along.

You're practically riding the gorgeous ridge of his nose, reveling in the way his tongue slips inside and curls. He might not have much experience with this, but he's always been naturally gifted. He's one of those people that's good at everything.

He's groaning, humming, murmuring, enjoying this just as much as you are. Your hands almost splinter the headboard, skin pulled taut across tense knuckles. You're so close you can taste it, honey sweet and saccharine.

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl. Come on my face, honey. Please."

It's the broken please that gets you, the desperation in his tone and the tightening grip on your hips. You see stars, dizzying and clear, blood rushing to your head. Steve doesn't let up, determined to see how pretty you look when he finally pushes you to your limit.

You collapse against his chest, leaning into his touch like a kitten. Rough fingertips trace patterns across your back, your arms, your hips. He's waiting for you to give him the green light.

You kiss him with force, tongue sliding into his mouth with no room for protest. You bite his lip and grin. America's golden boy. Lying under you with your come smeared across his face.

He leans up to whisper in your ear, rough tone filled with promise and mischief.

"I love you," he murmurs, tongue gliding across your neck. "Let me fuck you like I don't."

You've never been one to deny him. You're not about to start now.

He's adjusting, after all.

#LET ME FUCK YOU LIKE I DONT #HELLOOOOO #dizzy is feral #dizzy adores

[dizzy-after-dark]

Every time I type the word cock I still feel like the scared, religiously traumatized sixteen year old girl who felt like she had to tiptoe around the fucking sexual demon that was constantly gnawing at her liver like Prometheus and the eagle so now I force myself to laugh

#dizzy rambles #I’m grabbing the word with both hands #it’s mine now #all of the words are mine #this is therapy

[dizzy-after-dark]

Kol-Down | Kol Mikaelson | Summer Special 2018

Author: @writingsbychlo

Word Count: 7223

Notes: I absolutely loved writing this fic, you have no idea. 

Warnings: SMUT! It’s pretty soft and the smut isn’t even that hardcore, just some oral (both receiving), over-stimulation, fingering, somewhat exhibitionist, I guess? Grinding and dry humping, also a tiny bit of blood play, if you squint really hard. 

Keep reading

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson smut

[dizzy-after-dark]

bucky barnes's tinder bio should say "the arm is ribbed for your pleasure" send tweet

#would swipe right

[dizzy-after-dark]

THIS FIC HAS LIVED RENT FREE IN MY MIND FOR DAYS NOW AND I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO READ FANFICTION IN SO LONG AND THIS KICKSTARTED SMTH IN ME THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS GLORIOUS 🥲❤️

and when her edges soften

Summary: Forgive and forget? Resent and remember.

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Female Reader

Word count: 10.7k

Rating: 18+, no minors

Warnings: mouthy hate sex cuz they’re stubborn jerks who don’t communicate (and spend most of the time trying to play mind games), unprotected sex, bratty reader, cocky Peter, enemies to dumbasses

She didn’t like Peter Parker and his perfect Boy Scout face. Maybe it was her own fault, for measuring her success against his, because wasn’t comparison the thief of joy? But wasn’t it human nature to do it regardless? Yet here she was, squashing her own worth down every day against his. Like her value hinged on some guy with a perma-smirk on his lips and a dumb joke always dancing on the tip of his tongue. 

They’d been hired on the same day, filled out their paperwork with an empty chair between them in the intake area of the lab that was all bright white and shiny, like something out of a retro sci-fi film. She’d glanced at his paperwork (not super on purpose, just his schooling and background) when she’d set hers on the counter and figured they would have similar workloads and assignments. 

But no. Dr. Scott immediately threw something interesting his way when she had just as much experience as him. And there she sat, tasked with running tests that a machine could do. Absolutely asinine. Was it Peter’s fault? No. And maybe she wouldn’t loathe him if it had been left at that. But he’d grinned at her and said sucks to be you as they left Dr. Scott’s office, like it was fucking funny that she’d busted her ass in college and was given intern-level grunt work. Maybe it was just meant as a stupid joke, but it was enough to turn her cactus-prickly whenever he was near her, with that crooked smile and those stupid brown eyes. And God, he was always talking. The man was wholly incapable of shutting the fuck up. 

He drove her absolutely nuts.

So she proceeded to be bare minimum civil to him, with one word answers and terse nods, and she tried to keep it to when it was just the two of them. But because he wasn’t stupid, he picked up on it lighting-quick. He launched an opposing assault of being overly charming and praising her work when someone else was around, needling at her until she wanted to scream, which was exactly what he was aiming for. Was it childish of them? Absolutely. Did she plan on stopping? She’d rather eat a brick. Her mother had always told her to forgive and forget, but she much preferred to resent and remember. 

It was Christmas Eve Eve, and they were at a too-fancy Cuban restaurant for the lab holiday party. She’d had a glass of sangria, which was unfortunately more fruit than alcohol, and she wasn’t really in the mood for pastelitos or tostones. It went until eleven, and it was barely nine thirty. She liked most of her coworkers, but honestly, the idea of going home and wiggling out of her frilly black cocktail dress was much more appealing right now. Then she could curl up in bed and mindlessly scroll through Instagram while an episode of Happy Endings played in the background. It had been a long work week, and she was looking forward to a few days in her red flannel pajamas of doing absolutely nothing. 

Shifting in her heels, she glanced around and accidentally made eye contact with Peter, who gave her a saccharine smile that she rolled her eyes at. Ire burned bright in her chest, hot and mean and ugly. It was ridiculous that they were acting like middle schoolers, but they were both different brands of stubborn which meant nothing would ever change. 

Excusing herself from her conversation with Eliza, who was well-meaning but long-winded, she left the blocked off party room and snuck to the deserted hallway on the other side of the restaurant where their coats hung in a bulky rainbow across the wall. The corridor was awash in red neon from the exit sign, and she wondered when all the other lights had burnt out, leaving it Halloween-eerie in December. The only other thing in the hall was a bathroom with an OUT OF ORDER, SEE HOSTESS sign crookedly taped to the door. She leaned against the wall, taking in the relative quiet. Music piped through the speakers and flowed through her head, joyous and catchy, something familiar that she couldn’t quite recall. Rubbing her eyes carefully, she sighed as she straightened back up. If she left now, she could still catch—

Someone called her name behind her, and for a moment, she thought about ignoring it. Against her better judgment, she turned, only to be faced with Peter Parker. Wonderful. 

“Hi,” she said, fighting the childish urge to wrinkle her nose as her dream of a quiet exit vanished out from under her. 

“I wanted to, um, ask you something,” he said hesitantly, but she wasn’t buying it for a second. He was too clever to be tripping over his words. She might not like him, but she could admit that he was smart. The sheepish act was just that: an act. Peter Parker and his ploys. 

“What?” she prompted impatiently, glancing pointedly past him at the coats. Her leather jacket hung there, practically waving to her and calling her name. Come get me, I’m your ticket home. 

“Can we stop this?” he asked, holding his hand out to her as a peace offering, his watch glinting red under the sign. She considered it for a moment; how easy it would be to fit her hand in his, but she wanted him to acknowledge why they were calling a truce. To say sorry and mean it. 

“Stop what?” she asked coolly, crossing her arms and tilting her head in feigned confusion. It was immature, but the thought of him apologizing was nothing short of thrilling. Grovel, Parker. Get down on your knees and say how bad you feel. 

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he shrugged off his sports jacket in the too-warm hallway and tucked it under his arm as he considered his words. 

“This…” he gestured vaguely between them, “you know. The Sam and Diane bullshit.”

“The Sam and Diane bullshit?” she repeated incredulously, face heating up at the insinuation. All she remembered from Cheers was them furiously groping each other all over a couch after a few seasons of will they won’t they nonsense; she could never fathom kissing someone she didn’t like. Not until she was an adult and she’d made out with some persistent frat guy at a mixer, and honestly, it had just been to shut him up. “So you’re an obnoxious womanizer who flamed out of professional baseball and I’m, what, naïve and out of my depth at my job?”

“No.” He shook his head, running his hand through his hair and she was displeased to realize how good his black button-up looked on him, all well-fitted around his biceps and shoulders. “No, you think you’re better than me. You think you’re too good for your assignments.”

She gaped at him. “I do not.”

She absolutely did think that she was better than the stuff Dr. Scott had her working on. But fuck him for calling her out on it. She’d worked just as hard as him in school and it wasn’t fair that he was the de facto golden child from the jump. Some days she wondered if she wouldn’t be sent on a drink run and become the coffee girl, holding an oversized carrier of watery chai and lattes full of almond milk, juggling breakfast sandwiches and egg white omelets on top of the lids. 

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I think your anger is misdirected. Maybe talk with Dr. Scott instead of contemplating stabbing me with a scalpel every time you see me.”

“God, I can’t stand you.” She dodged around him and grabbed her coat, making her way toward the door. “You know what, Parker? I was just trying to go home and you’re ruining it. So have a great fucking holiday and—”

He shook his head and scoffed. “You’re spoiled.”

“Excuse me?” She turned on her heel so fast that she wobbled, her hand shooting out to steady herself so she didn’t wipe out in front of him. Because that’s just what she needed on top of verbal humiliation, busting her ass on the tile in front of this guy. 

“You’re spoiled,” he repeated calmly, folding his arms over his chest, and it made her want to shove him. How dare he name call and stare her down like she was an idiot. “I think you’re used to getting your way, and when you don’t, you stomp your foot like it’ll change someone’s mind.”

“I do not,” she retorted, planting her hands on her hips and fuck him because she did want to stomp her foot. The idea of pulling the framed photo of Havana off the wall and whipping it at his all-knowing face was tantalizing. “I got passed over for you on the first day and you were a dick about it. You didn’t have to say anything, but you decided to be cruel.”

His eyes widened. “Cruel? I was kidding. It was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Her chest was so tight from confrontation that it ached. It was an ugly feeling, to be reduced like this by him, and she was embarrassed that she couldn’t keep her emotions under control. Peter Parker had driven her up the wall since day one, and she didn’t know why she ever expected otherwise. 

“Well, I’m sorry,” he simpered with what was meant to be a winning smile, his words hollow and useless, a parody of what she’d wanted to hear. 

The door beckoned. She needed to get on the train and forget about all of this. Maybe she could be nicer in January for a resolution. But right now, she had no capacity for it, because she didn’t like how he’d pulled her aside to what— admonish her like a child? Compare her to an old sitcom that she couldn’t stand? “Whatever,” she muttered. 

Like a warning shot fired, the neon sign flickered above them ominously, casting a brief shadow over Peter’s face and it sent a tingle up her spine. She wasn’t stupid; she knew he was attractive. And she hated that she thought that, because how was she supposed to despise someone and still think they were hot? Diametrically opposed thoughts, surely. It made zero sense. 

Peter took a step toward her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall and frowning as he reached toward her shoulder. He moved slowly, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop it right now, but she didn’t. Despite herself, she was curious. 

“You wanna know what I think?” he asked quietly, tracing the strap of her cocktail dress, his calloused fingers tripping against her collarbone. His touch was more gentle than she’d expected. “You don’t actually hate me. You keep staring at my mouth—”

“Because you’re talking,” she interrupted angrily, shame rising in her belly, because yes, she had been. He’d let his beard grow in a bit and she’d never seen him with anything past a five o’clock shadow, so excuse her all to hell for looking at something new. “Where else should I look?”

He shrugged arrogantly, tilting his head to study her as though she were a strange thing. Maybe she was. “You look at my fingers all the time in the lab—”

“Eat me, Parker,” she spat, pushing past him. This was done, whatever this was. An uncomfortably tense pigtail pulling contest that she had no clue how to win. God, he just loved getting under her skin—

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you,” he muttered. 

“You couldn’t handle me,” she shot back without thinking, and his eyes went stupidly big at her challenge. Just leave, shut up and leave, stop having the last word every time. 

It was too late. She wasn’t sure who was doing the pulling, but somehow the bathroom door was being slammed behind her, and the ugly yellow fluorescents burst on above them. The scent of lemon cleanser invaded her nose and stung her eyes for just as second as she adjusted to the light. He had her shoved against the wall, his long fingers wrapped around her wrist. But instead of shooting her mouth off again, she stared up at him. Her heart was beating so fast it stung, hummingbird-skittish in her breast. 

“I could absolutely handle you,” he said, and it was that utter arrogance that she just wanted to knock out of him, just take a bat and swing right at his head. She thought of that college party and that loudmouth frat guy, and before she could stop herself, she grabbed his collar and yanked him close, watching his pupils dilate as he met her halfway. 

It burned her up inside to find he was a good kisser. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, grab her coat and march out the door. But he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn’t spent months sniping at each other, and when his tongue slid against hers it made her toes curl. Dizzying heat rushed through her. He’d had sangria too; the cloying taste of wine evident as he deepened the kiss. She’d meant for it to be quick and mean, but it was lazy and exploratory, his thumb sweeping along her cheek gently. She’d made a grave mistake, but couldn’t bring herself to care. A parade of thoughts raced through her her head— you’re making out with him, what is wrong with you, what else are you going to do, you want him to fuck you— and she wove her fingers through his hair as a pleased sigh slipped from her before she could catch it. 

That was mistake number two. 

He pulled away from her, umber eyes glittering as if to say I knew it, and she swayed into him like some sort of planetary pull was guiding her.

“Would you look at that?” he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her, a jeweler with a loupe. Absurdly, she wondered if she measured up, and why she was so fixated on how she compared to him? What did it matter what he thought of her? “All bark and no bite. You’re not as mean as you want me to think, huh?”

“You don’t know me,” she breathed, pushing his hand away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. “Always so sure of yourself.”

“I think there’s something sweet under all that vinegar,” he continued as his hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him. Again, it was purposefully slow, giving her every chance to break free. She didn’t. 

“And what, you’re gonna find it?” It was difficult to keep snapping back at him because his other hand was under her skirt, sliding up her thigh, higher and higher until he paused. She’d forgone stockings because she always managed to get a run, and they weren’t comfortable, no matter what anyone said. But now his fingers were too close to her, with nothing but her underwear separating them. It made her head spin, the confounding idea of wanting someone who drove her insane. It was eighties romcom stupidity, movie plots she rolled her eyes at and complained about every time she’d seen something like it. Why the hell would Sally want someone as boorish and crude as Harry? Not that Peter was—

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he offered, cutting through the ivy-vine tangle of her thoughts. “You can go catch your train, I’ll go back out there and keep talking about stocks with Will, but this is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Fun?” she repeated icily, determined to undermine him, but he tugged at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath when he let the elastic snap against her hip. 

“Fun. You know, a diversion.” He bent to brush a lingering kiss to her neck, so slow and sweet that she held her breath. Why wasn’t he being more callous and cruel, this wasn’t supposed to be— 

Oh. This was deliberate.

This was what he did at work, with his sugared compliments and blinding smiles that made her want to throw test tubes at him, and he was going to do the same thing here. 

Maybe an eternity had passed since his proposal, maybe it had been only three seconds. She was trying to process it but it was difficult when he was caressing her thigh and watching her with keen eyes that shone with something she’d never seen from him before. 

Part of her was deeply scandalized that his hands were up her skirt and that his beard was scraping against her, leaving a fiery trail along her skin. Another part of her, some strangely curious part, was dying to know what he might do. How he might kiss her and spin her apart. If he was any good. But her bullheaded streak wanted to get him worked up— maybe grind herself all over his lap and then leave him hard and aching for her, because what was he gonna do? Chase her down? He wasn’t a sociopath; if anything, he’d call her spoiled again and that would be the end of the night. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” he commented as he tilted her chin up, and she shivered as he took her mouth again in a lazy kiss, working her open with his tongue like he’d done it a million times, and it melted her sharpness down for just a split second before she shook it off. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”

“I can’t stand you,” she informed him as she plucked at the buttons of his shirt while he grinned down at her maddeningly. Smugly. This was stupid, why was she doing this instead of going home? What was wrong with her? Normal people didn’t do things like this, normal people didn’t let their obnoxiously good-looking jerk of a coworker pin them to a wall at an office party and they certainly didn’t let them kiss their necks. 

“You wanna show me how much you can’t stand me?” he asked, not missing a beat as he pushed his thigh between hers. It forced her skirt up to her hips and she froze under his gaze as he shuffled the floaty material out of the way, his thumb rasping over her clit. Even though the thin material of her underwear, the sensation stole her breath. He paused, holding her gaze, and she took the opportunity to push his shirt off his shoulders so she could see him. Tentatively, she ran her hands down his pale chest, fingers tripping over a bunch of scars. Some looked years old, others seemed barely healed. 

“What, are you in a fight club or something?” she muttered, mapping a silvery one that skimmed his ribs. It was hard to say which was more surprising: the lean muscles or the scars. 

“Sure,” he agreed amiably, watching as she traced down along the vee of his hip. He was in shockingly good shape for a guy who seemed to live off cheap ramen. “You worried about me?”

“I don’t think about you,” she said haughtily, resisting the urge to nip at his collarbone. The fact that she had to remind herself not to do that nagged at her; she shouldn’t need to practice such self-control around someone she loathed. 

“Keep telling yourself that, baby.” His fingers slipped between her legs again, toying with the flimsy material that did nothing to dull his touch, and his eyes were hawkish as he teased her with his thumb. “Sure you don’t wanna catch that train?”

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a lewd groan that she swallowed down. “You—” she tried to say, but he was cradling the back of her skull, distracting her as he tugged her underwear to the side. 

Dragging a finger along the split of her, he hummed in satisfaction as he gathered her slick, rubbing a quick circle against her clit that made her stutter. “Can’t stand me, huh?”

She moaned, grinding back against his hand. “Shut up, Parker.” 

“It’s okay to say you like it,” he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he pressed a finger inside her. The dual sensations made her jump; the way he crooked his finger as he licked at her pulse, and goddammit he knew what he was doing and it sent her blood boiling. “You wouldn’t be moaning like that otherwise.”

“I am not,” she huffed indignantly. She wasn’t a moaner. Her ex had berated her about it once, and that had been the last time they’d slept together, although it had been multiple other things, not just him whining about her in bed. Her eyes drifted down, and it was impossible to ignore the raspberry splash of a bruise on his pec, and she wondered how he’d done that. “I’ve had better, you’re so full of yourself—”

Her words were dead in the water when he curled his finger again. “You just like fighting, huh? That’s what gets you wet, that’s why you always have an attitude with me.” His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he’d match her frustration, because his composure was annoying. Get mad, call her a brat, raise his voice a little. 

“N— no,” she replied unconvincingly as she rode his hand. “I just don’t like you.”

“You seem to like my hands just fine.” He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist slowly. “Be a sweet girl and tell me you like it.”

“Thought I was spoiled,” she laughed breathlessly as his free hand wandered up to her neck, forcing her to look at him. His movements were all firm, achingly controlled. “I’m not saying that.”

He nodded, and withdrew his fingers. Strangely, he kept rubbing tight circles against her clit, and it hit her: he was giving her a chance to do what he said and taking himself away from her like he was counting to three. She bucked her hips against his palm; this would be easy for her to beat. He was turned on too, she could see the hard outline of his cock straining against the front of his dark dress pants, and his breathing was just a little faster than normal. And she hadn’t even touched him other than when they’d kissed, which meant he was hard over what he was doing to her. Something like that made her brain thick with want, and it just added another piece to the inconceivable puzzle of her quick-shifting feelings for him. It was probably just arousal. 

Men were simple. All she had to do was make a breathy little sound and he’d continue. This was cake. So she shook her head with an airy sigh, rubbing herself along the heel of his hand, but he still didn’t give her what she wanted. 

“Tell me you like it and I’ll let you come,” he promised, his thumb perplexingly gently against her pulse. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. She was so close and he’d just stopped and now he was just looking down at her expectantly. He really wanted her to capitulate, flutter apart for him like a house of cards. 

“Can you just…” she mumbled, because the thought of admitting that infuriated her. This was so much worse than if he had no clue what to do with his hands. She wished he were incompetent and fumbling, because him actually getting her off was something she’d never live down. 

“Say it,” he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. “Say I like it, Peter, and I swear I’ll let you finish.”

“Parker—”

“Peter,” he corrected, his mouth ghosting along her throat and it sent her brain reeling, how fucking dare he. “You can say it. It’ll stay between us.”

“That’s not nice,” she whispered petulantly, trying for whiny so she didn’t have to give him what he wanted. Maybe she could pluck at his heartstrings with teary eyes and soft words. 

It didn’t work. His hand hung limp between her legs, tantalizingly close but galaxies away from what she craved. 

“I’m plenty nice,” he replied, pulling the strap of her dress down her shoulder so he could explore her skin, caressing her collarbone with a featherlight skim of his fingers, and she knew he wasn’t going to touch her again until she gave in. If that’s how he wanted it, fine. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. 

“I like it,” she caved, and the surprise that lit across his face for a split second was worth it.

“Atta girl,” he said, but she could tell he hadn’t expected it. He was true to his word, thrusting his fingers back into her cunt and catching her elbow so she didn’t buckle to the floor in a boneless little heap. “Go ahead and take it, baby.”

Some strange noise left her as he touched something that made her absolutely shatter, and she grabbed at his arm in a frenzy. Before she could get any louder, he bent to cover her mouth with his. “I know you don’t want everyone to hear you coming all over my hands,” he whispered against her lips, like he was doing her a favor in all his grand benevolence. 

But she couldn’t form a response as something weightless swept over her and she clenched around his fingers and mumbled some kind of broken sound into his mouth, and God this was not how she saw her Friday night going: a belly full of golden butterflies from Peter Parker with his big hand shoved between her thighs while rumba music crept under the door. And the fact that he was good with his hands and mouth, what the hell was that about? Every part of her was thrumming and electric because of him. This was the absolute definition of fuck around and find out: after months of fucking around, it seemed it was time to contend with it. 

With a heaving chest, she looked up at him dizzily, and he had the nerve to lean down and kiss her again, and she had the foolishness to let him, his lips just barely touching hers, pulling away slyly when she tried to deepen it. “Parker,” she tried weakly as she touched his neck, unsteadily tracing a freckle. “Come on.”

“Stubborn little thing,” he said as he stroked her cheek, and it sounded nearly affectionate. “I know you know how to use your words. Always spitting bullets at me. What do you want?”

God, the thought of getting needy over a kiss he’d refused her made her want to crawl into a hole and die. “Nothing.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, fisting her hair in his hand and exposing the column of her throat to him, and she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a moan, because something about the way he had his hands all over her body was pushing her over the edge. “You want me to eat you out?” he asked magnanimously, licking the hinge of her jaw like a cat, running his nose along her throat possessively and to her utter humiliation, another sound bubbled out of her mouth, something that sounded suspiciously like the word please. “Let me get between those pretty thighs?”

“No,” she lied as he spun her around, pushing her against the wall a little too hard but she was too turned on to mind. 

“You’d hate that,” he continued, rucking her skirt up just enough to pinch her thigh as he ground his hips against her ass teasingly. “Because every time you look at me after that, it’ll be the only thing you’ll think about.”

“Parker—” 

“My mouth all over you while you tell yourself you hate it…” he trailed off, wrapping an arm across her shoulders, pulling her flush against him, “when you’re really just dying to come all over my face.”

His arm was a steel band across her chest, strong fingers digging into her bicep, anchoring her in place. When she tipped her head back against his shoulder, his face swam into view. It was a nice face: a sharp bearded jaw, doe eyes that were darker than she’d ever seen, that freckle on the side of his neck that she wanted to kiss, no she didn’t, shut up. 

“You just want me to go down on you,” she accused, wiggling back against him, trying to find some sort of friction because he felt so good it wasn’t even funny and sure, fine, she wanted him to fuck her. But there was no way he was offering to eat her out without expecting her to drop to her knees for him, and the idea of being that submissive for Peter fucking Parker made her want to hug a land mine. 

“It’s not a trade. Is that how it’s always been for you?” he asked, a frown in his voice as he pushed her hair away from her neck. “Someone’s been treating you all wrong, huh?”

Another mistake. She’d given away a detail of past relationships and flings without thinking. 

“So you don’t want me to blow you?” she asked, turning to face him. Bullshit. He wasn’t different from any other guy. 

A muscle in his jaw tightened at her question— a crack in his confidence. Good. He could see how it felt to be toppled by a few words, to have a rug yanked out from under his feet. 

But then he shrugged, broad shoulders rising and falling sinfully. “If you wanted to, I wouldn’t stop you. But that’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted me to eat you out.”

She huffed. “Because you’re so selfless?”

“You’ve never had someone go down on you just ‘cause they wanted to?” he asked as he kneeled— fucking kneeled— in front of her. “Poor girl.”

She ignored the false sympathy. “What’s your— your goal here, huh?” she asked shakily as he kissed down her hip, spreading her legs. This wasn’t what she’d pictured when she’d imagined him on his knees, this was so beyond—

“Get your skirt out of the way.”

“What?” She pressed herself against the wall as her calves went wobbly from the hickey he was sucking against her thigh. 

“Move this so I can see you,” he instructed. 

“Pushy,” she mumbled, shuffling her gauzy skirt as best she could, but it was next to impossible. “This doesn’t— it won’t—”

He stood and spun her around easily, tugging the zipper and pulling her dress down her hips. It happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to think. He sank back down and helped her step out of it, pulling her left knee over his shoulder as she tried to keep balance on one foot in her teetering heel. Warm breath floated across her skin as he pressed a messy kiss to her cunt through her underwear before tugging it aside and licking into her like a shock. 

This was fucking bad. 

“Oh, baby,” he cooed. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

His hand was on her right hip, holding her tight (and God, he was strong) as he spread her open and lapped at her with deadly focus, spinning her stupid at an alarming pace. Oh, she’d fucked up tremendously and he was right: this would be all she ever thought of when she saw his mouth. Exhaling slowly, she tipped her head back until the ceiling tiles came into view, the lights hovering at the edge of her vision. The air was thick and for a moment, it was hard to breathe because of how he was devouring her. This wasn’t exploratory and lazy, it was him showing her that he could handle her and he was gonna make sure she loved every second of it. 

He mumbled her name against her and her thighs shook embarrassingly. She tried to shift, dig her heel into the hard muscles of his back, but his hand was too tight against her hip, his thumb digging an ache against her soft skin. “Parker—”

“Lemme see your eyes,” he said as she bucked against his mouth. She glanced down without thinking and the sight of his tongue curling into her was unbearable. Unbearable because he was causing her brain to go all cloudy and dumb, and because it tore her up to be wrong. He hummed against her clit before circling it with the tip of his tongue, shaking her to the core. It was merciless and precise and it sent thick pleasure winding through her body, turning her practically boneless in his grasp. “Look at me when you come. Wanna see that pretty face.”

“Please,” she urged weakly, threading her fingers through his thick hair and pulling him closer. Peter groaned appreciatively against her, and that gutteral sound knocked her over the edge unexpectedly, lightning-bright as she came again. It left her trembling against his jaw as her legs went rigid, her heel clattering to the ground somewhere behind him. “Fuck, please—” and maybe she said his name too but her head was all cottony and she could have told him her banking information and she wouldn’t have had a clue. 

“There you go, baby,” he encouraged as she ground herself against his slick mouth, his tongue still working at her as she came back down. “Love those sweet words.”

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was making. “You talk too much,” she panted, tugging uselessly at his hair. 

“Maybe,” he hummed as he licked one last stripe up her cunt, sending a helpless spasm through her. “My goal is to make you think about me all weekend,” he continued casually, nipping at the hickey he’d just left on her thigh. Pleasure cut alongside the pain, making her whine softly. 

What the hell was he talking about? She was so dazed from coming that she just stared down blankly at him while he kissed the inside of her knee, nipping at a childhood scar from a fight she’d lost with a pair of skates. “Huh?”

“You asked what my goal was,” he reminded her as he stood, looming above her, dangerously tall in a way that excited her. That was like a brick to the head: she was actually into this— him?— and she wanted more. “I want you to think about me all weekend. When you get up tomorrow morning and your thighs ache, I want you to think about me. Want you to think about me when you touch yourself, and when you see me next week at work, I want you to look at my hands and think of how you fell apart all over them.”

The way he spoke to her was staggering and it left her with a rush of heat between her thighs. “Quite a list,” she breathed as he bent his head to kiss the slope of her shoulder, his large palms sliding up her shivery ribs to cup her breasts. “Anything else?”

“I told you, I wanna find that sweetness,” he said, flicking his tongue against her nipple through the flimsy material of her bra, some lacy black thing that she’d picked at the last minute. “It keeps coming through and you don’t even know it.”

She arched into his touch before fumbling with his buckle with useless fingers. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re so turned on you can’t even get my belt off,” he said softly. “Came so hard you fell outta your shoes.” Christ, her other shoe was gone and she hadn’t even noticed. Taking her wrist, he guided her hand until she was palming him through his pants. “See what you did with those pretty sounds?”

Anticipation flooded her body, with more than a few nerves. He felt ridiculously big, and she swallowed hard. Looking up at him, she wondered if it was a genuine smile he was giving her or just more of his games. Holding his gaze, she popped the button of his pants and slipped her hand into his boxers, watching the slightest flutter of his long lashes when she wrapped her fist around him. Good. He could see how it felt to be thrown for a loop. 

He let her stoke him for a few moments, clenching his jaw when she circled the head of his cock with her thumb, smearing precome around the tip. She watched his eyes the entire time, not wanting to miss a second of his control wavering. To her utter satisfaction, they went glassy at her touch. “That’s enough,” he said suddenly, blinking rapidly as he pushed her hand away. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Thought you could handle me,” she taunted as he tugged his boxers down his lean hips. Still, she didn’t look down, because somehow that would make it all tangible, driving home the fact that she was going to fuck Peter Parker. 

“You’ve got a smart little mouth,” he informed her as he backed her into the wall again, but it was more of a statement than a criticism. “Are you on the pill?” he asked, skating his teeth along her collarbone. 

“Y—yeah.” Even that one simple word was a struggle. “You don’t have a condom?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met a guy who’d actually wanted to wear one. Everything about this man made her crazy. 

He shook his head as he pulled her against him, his thick cock pressed to her hip. “Of course I do. I just wanna feel how wet you are for me. Wanna feel what I did to you.”

“Oh.” She blinked up at him. He was asking permission, giving power back to her for just a second. He’d already made her come twice, what did letting him fuck her without a condom matter at this point? “It’s fine.”

He tilted his head questioningly, like she’d said something totally insane. “There’s a difference between something being fine and something being what you want. What do you want?”

It was the second time he’d asked her that. Nothing didn’t cut it as an answer this time. “I want you to fuck me,” she blurted out in a rush. 

“Just like this?” he pressed as he turned her around slowly, and she nodded, letting him pin her against the wall, spreading her legs as he pushed his cock between her thighs. She closed her eyes as he teased her, the head of his dick gently nudging her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. “Just like this,” she mumbled as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch. It was slow and teasing, and when she tried to reach back to grab at his hip, he took her hand and pinned it to the wall. 

“Don’t be greedy,” he crooned, pulling back for a torturous second before thrusting all the way in, and it made her breath falter, the way he filled her up so completely. “I know what you want.”

He was big, and she refused to say it. There was no way he didn’t already know, and she certainly didn’t need to feed his ego by moaning about it. The way he was stretching her out was near criminal, some kind of sweet agony that pulled a breathy whimper from her. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he purred in her ear, and she gritted her teeth to keep any sort of flattery from leaving her mouth. “See how easy it is for me to tell you that?”

She shook her head as words scrambled around in her skull, and he pinned her other hand to the wall. “Why do you need to hear it so badly?” she managed to ask as she ground back into him. “Your work doesn’t stand on its own?” 

Peter chuckled, his hot breath floating across her shoulder. “You already came twice. Maybe you should try to pull your weight.”

He let go of her left hand to ghost his fingers against her clit as he thrust up hard, and it was nearly too much. Biting down on her lip, she slumped back but he was whispering in her ear again, poor baby you want it so fuckin’ bad huh, and she did.

“Parker,” she muttered as his hand came up to spread across her throat, his thumb against her collarbone as he nudged her knees farther apart. She arched into him as he cupped her breast, teasing her nipple through the thin material of her bra. 

“Did you ever think about this? Me fucking that attitude out of you?” 

She tried to roll her eyes but couldn’t. Everything he said was in a low, even voice and it was like a dagger every time, spearing through her, sending her out of her mind. It was a strange thing, to feel lust and irritation side by side, but the lust was beginning to outweigh it.

“No.” That wasn’t a lie. Months ago, she’d dreamed about him kissing her in an elevator, but it had ended with her slapping himself across the face, and when she’d woken up, she didn’t remember it until he’d walked past her in the break room and given her a too-nice grin that was for his own enjoyment. But wanting to fuck him? Never. Not until that broken sign had lit his face up and something had twisted hot and sharp in her belly. “Told you, I d— don’t think about you.”

“I thought about you a couple times,” he admitted without a shred of embarrassment as he licked at the juncture of her neck, teeth cutting against her in a quick sting that he kissed away with a filthy sound. “Thought about how pretty you’d look riding me.”

Jesus, he knew how to get to her. Weirdly, she didn’t know if she should be offended or flattered that he’d thought about fucking her. The fact that she wasn’t sure made her think that she liked it, and that was a hard thing to contend with. “You’re unbelievable.”

He took her arms and pulled them back so they were looped around his neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he replied, his hands rough against her tits, squeezing and caressing appreciatively until she yanked at his hair. 

It made him laugh, but he stopped moving and she pushed back desperately, trying to find that delicious rhythm again. “You said you were plenty nice, this isn’t…”

“Take what you want.” He nuzzled at her temple, planting a sugary-fake kiss there. “Be a big girl and take it.”

She huffed. Her legs were unsteady and she wasn’t tall enough to get what she wanted without her heels. “I can’t.”

He thrust again, slow this time. “You’re usually so sure of yourself. What happened, baby?” he asked softly, his thumb gentle against her throat. It would be easier if he’d just bruise a mark against her neck instead of this, this quiet sweetness that she knew was just building up into him getting the upper hand again.

She shook her head, refusing to give him more than she already had. “Stop— stop calling me that,” she said, because that was the problem, not the fact that he was fucking her into a wall with sharp snaps of his hips, filling her up so well it was making her brain blur. Pleasure rippled through her body as he kissed the side of her neck, and she cried out when he sucked another mark there, quickly soothing it with his tongue. 

“How about princess?” he grunted harshly, and she shivered, pressing her warm cheek to the off-white plaster. “Sweetheart? Angel? Kitten?”

“Stop talking, you n— never shut up,” she ground out, lacking any kind of authority because he felt so fucking good inside her that it was making her eyes droop shut like she was drunk on him. 

He hummed against the crown of her head, stilling his movements again and she pushed back against him greedily. This impulsivity she’d gotten herself twisted up in was going to ruin her for anyone else, because fuck he knew what he was doing. Maybe she had left the restaurant and gotten hit by a bus on the way to the subway and this was some circle of Hell that Dante had neglected to mention: divinity at the hands of Peter Parker. 

“Poor girl,” he cooed, honey dripping off his tongue. “So eager for my cock.”

“You’re rock hard over me so I guess we’re both—”

He spun her and scooped her up, briefly tracing her hip bones as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “What can I say, I like mouthy girls.”

She barely had time to reorient herself as he thrust into her again. There was no room between her and the wall, forcing her to either look at him or rest her chin on his shoulder. What thrilling little head games he was playing, trying to pull sweetness from her with his words and touches. But she was beginning to realize that something in her liked this, maybe even liked him. Maybe she did like arguing, maybe she was as predictable as some stupid eighties movie—

“Where’d you go?” he asked, burying his face against her neck and nipping at her, the sharpness of his teeth yanking her back to the present. “Thinking about how good it feels?”

Weakly, she pushed at his chest, tapping the borders of the bruise. “Where’d this come from?” she muttered as he hitched her up higher. “What’d you do?”

He shook his head, his once-neat hair falling messily across his forehead. “Kiss it and make it better,” he deflected with a smirk. Instead, she clenched around him and he groaned, thumbs digging so harshly into her waist that she could imagine the bruises blooming under his touch. It was the first time she’d managed to catch him completely off-guard, and it thrilled her to have the upper hand, only if for a moment. One of his hands came up to caress her neck, tracing and teasing, following her carotid as he slowed his hips to a dreamy grind. 

“Tired?” she asked, and he just grinned that pearly self-assured grin. 

“Aren’t you?” He was pulling almost all the way out each time and then filling her back up languidly, his thumb pressing agonizingly against her clit. “You get this dizzy look on your face when you come—”

With a moan, she kissed him hard so he couldn’t finish telling her about how desperate she was for him, but he was still smiling as he cradled her cheek and pressed his tongue into her mouth. In retaliation, she dragged her nails across his shoulders and earned an atta girl that made her melt. 

No matter what she tried, it felt like she couldn’t gain control over him. Maybe she should just be sweet like he said. It wasn’t really giving in, was it? It was enjoying. She could admit that it was fucking divine, the way he bottomed out with every stroke and kissed her totally stupid. She could even admit that she was glad he’d found her in the hallway and that one of them had pushed the other into the bathroom. She still wasn’t clear on who had done that; it had just been a neon red whirl of hands and irritation and pent-up lust. 

Be a sweet girl. 

It dawned on her: that was her move. That was how she played his game. 

“Harder,” she asked, tugging him close to kiss his jaw, and she watched his brows knit together in slight confusion. “Please?” she added before he could prompt her. 

“Yeah?” 

She nodded. “I want you to fuck me harder,” she repeated, tracing his bottom lip, his beard scratching at her palm.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he thrust so hard she saw silvery stars. He kissed her harshly, and she rolled her hips up to accommodate him as he sank in deeper. “You look so pretty when you ask for my cock.”

“Parker…” she trailed off, and she was rewarded with another rough thrust, and she wondered if the wall would hold her weight. In the very back of her mind, she had no clue how she was supposed to get to the subway, because he was fucking her so hard she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to walk afterwards.

“What?” he asked, inhaling raggedly when she leaned forward to work a mark into his collarbone. Playing nice was easy, especially when it turned the tables. Maybe she should have figured it out sooner, but he’d made it difficult to focus. 

“Wanna ride you,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders, circling her hips as best she could but it was hard to do in her current position. “Like you said.”

Peter set her down and sure enough, she stumbled on jello legs. The room spun and tilted like a carnival ride under her feet and she shook her head to try and clear her vision as she pressed herself against the wall for some kind of support. Suddenly, he was holding her wrists and gathering her close. Her pulse fluttered under his touch. “I’ve got you, whoa. You okay?”

She nodded. Without thinking, she leaned her temple against his chest, listening to the thump of his heart to try and ground herself. “Can’t feel my legs.”

She expected a self-satisfied grin from him, all glowing and grandiose, but it didn’t appear. Instead, there was a softness in his expression that was foreign to her, and it made her knees even weaker. 

“Come here,” he said, holding his hands out to help her into his lap. Tentatively, she took them, studying how easily they engulfed hers. Maybe this was the peace offering she’d refused earlier. “Don’t want you knocking yourself out.”

They sank to the floor on top of his rumpled sports jacket. His grip was gentle as she straddled his thighs, a departure from how he’d been pinning and manhandling her for however long they’d been locked away. “You always know what to say, huh?” she murmured as he stroked her knee soothingly, a too-intimate move from the man who’d been calling her baby as he fucked bruises into the backs of her thighs. “You and your clever mouth.”

“You seem to like my clever mouth.” He grinned at her as she sank down onto him, closing her eyes as she adjusted to the stretch of his cock again. “You’re messing with me.” His words were intended to be good natured, but there was a flash of uncertainty in his dark eyes, and she knew that he didn’t have a clue where he stood with her. For some reason, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it might. What a time to grow a conscience about this. About him. 

“How?” she asked innocently as she tried to shake that feeling off, tracing a long white scar that was etched deep into his chest, like he’d lost a fight with a sword. What the hell kind of hobbies he had, she’d never know. 

“Being sweet.”

He had her number. She shrugged as she bucked her hips, and he groaned, knocking his head back against the wall. “What else do you want from me, Parker? A certificate that says you fucked me until I couldn’t think straight?” She leaned forward and kissed the hollow of his throat, grinding down hard onto his cock as she pulled another strangled noise from him, and fuck if that didn’t turn her on. “Make up your mind, baby.”

“You feel incredible,” he grunted, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to drag her mouth to his, and she bit his lip before running her tongue across it to soothe away the sting.  

“What do you want?” she asked sweetly as she draped her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his. “You want me to cry about how good you feel inside me? Want me to call you daddy?”

Oh, that got him. He gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut at her questions. “God, you’re…”

“Use your words,” she reminded him softly, and he snapped his hips into hers hard, nearly unseating her. “Want me to beg you to suck your cock?” Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she meant any of it or if she was still playing along with the strange power struggle they’d been locked in for months. Whatever it was left her feeling just a little power drunk. 

“Sweet of you to ask,” he muttered as he gripped her jaw, his tongue pressing into her mouth in a dizzying slide. She secretly liked when he held her face like that, all demanding and rough, and she wondered what that said about her. Maybe she did want him to fuck her until she was sweet. 

“Knew it,” she panted triumphantly as she broke away from him, raking her nails down his shoulders, jagged pink lines trailing behind her red nails. “I knew you wanted me to blow you.”

“No.” He shook his head, hands tight against the tops of her thighs, setting the pace he wanted as he guided her hips. “Keep riding me just like that. God, we should do this more often.”

“Hatefuck each other?” she blurted out as she sank down to the hilt with a blissed-out sigh. “Parker, that’s really deep—”

He stopped moving, his grip loosening slightly, the harsh dig of his fingers dissipating.“You really think I hate you?” he asked, blinking in confusion as he pulled back to look at her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think his feelings were hurt. This wasn’t supposed to be something meaningful between them, what the hell was he doing? 

She trembled as her arousal pushed at her. “It’s just a phrase.” 

His soft brown eyes were serious, glittering with something that tried to break her heart. She had hurt his feelings. “I don’t hate you.”

She shifted with a gasp, feeling small under his gaze. Yesterday she wouldn’t have given a shit if she’d disappointed him and now she felt like an asshole. “I know. I shouldn’t have— that was stupid.”

There was a long strange moment of limbo where neither of them moved. At least they had one thing in common: she couldn’t figure out where the hell she stood with him either. She wondered if she’d somehow wrecked the situation she shouldn’t have gotten herself into in the first place. 

“What about a grudgefuck?” she hedged. 

The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. “Maybe.” He reached to toy with the small lace bow on her bra, and she leaned forward, gently kissing the bruise on his chest as an apology and he let out a hiss of pain. 

“Sorry.” She hadn’t meant to hurt him. It wasn’t like she actually enjoyed seeing him in physical pain, no matter how many times she’d fantasized about whipping a stapler at him after some stupid comment he’d flung her way. 

“It’s okay.” Peter cupped her cheek, studying her for a moment, and that made her feel more vulnerable than the fact that he was buried inside her. His eyes swept over her: the bridge of her nose, the Cupid’s bow of her mouth, her pleasure-teary eyes. “You are a soft little thing, aren’t you?”

Something had shifted between them, and she realized that they’d both been pretending it hadn’t. It wasn’t something she could pinpoint— maybe it had been when she’d struggled to stand and he’d helped her without so much as a joke, or when he’d looked disheartened at the idea of her believing that he hated her. What a pair they made. 

Her mouth twitched at his declaration, and she buried her face against his neck while he rocked up into her steadily. “Feels good,” she told him as heat spiraled up in her belly. 

He pulled her knees tighter against his hips, splitting her open in a way that was making her eyes roll and flutter. “Gonna come for me?”

She nodded jerkily as he hit that deep part of her again, setting her on a path to fall apart for the third time. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please d— don’t stop.” He smelled good, cologne and clean sweat and something spicy that swirled around her head as he pushed her over the edge. Shuddering hard, she dug her nails into his shoulders. “Don’t hate you either,” she panted against his neck, shivering when he stroked her hip as he fucked her through it. 

His fingers trailed down her spine and it was too tender to think about. But when she tried to say his name, he swept her into a kiss that spun her out completely. It was slow and sweet, with his hands all over her throat and when his tongue pressed against her lips, it was like he was asking what she needed rather than telling her. 

“I know you don’t,” he said, but it lacked the arrogance from when he’d insisted on it earlier. 

“Don’t— don’t get all soft on me, Parker,” she muttered, because whatever gentle thing was trying to bloom between them wasn’t welcome. This was not the start of something, it was not some movie meet-cute, it was months of immaturity coming to a head. 

“I’m anything but,” he replied pointedly, and God, was there a polite way to tell someone to come because she’d never been waiting on a guy like this before. He tilted his head, that scrutinizing look crossing his face again. Like he could somehow hear what she was thinking. “You okay?”

She nodded, and he dipped his head to kiss her breasts, murmuring pretty as he tugged one of her bra straps down her shoulder so he could take her nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing and licking until she whined. He’d slowed down, like he knew that she needed him to, moving with deep drags of his cock, and she let him do what he wanted, because it wasn’t giving in, it was enjoying. He wrapped his long fingers around her neck again and pressed his forehead to hers. “Gimme another one,” he urged, his nose brushing hers. “Wanna see those dizzy eyes one more time.” 

He sounded like he was underwater; she was so overstimulated that everything was blurring together. But his words cut through the fog and a hazy orgasm rolled over her, and she couldn’t believe she’d just come on command. It made her chest tight and she grabbed his shoulder to anchor herself. “Can’t do it again, it’s too much,” she panted, her nails slipping against him.

He groaned her name at her words. It made sense that praise set him off— someone as talkative as him would want it back so he could relish in it. She’d gotten to him earlier with all her little questions; her backhanded compliments must have cut him straight to the bone. 

“Peter,” she tried, because she never called him that— only ever sneering and biting out his last name like a curse— and she was desperately curious to know what it would do to him. 

“Sounds so good when you say that.” His words were broken, shattered little syllables that she snatched up for herself. The smack of his skin against hers was deafening, and she couldn’t even hear what else he was saying to her. For a moment, she just watched his mouth move, and it was so stupidly pretty and why hadn’t she noticed that before?

“Peter,” she said again, not because she was trying to get into his head this time, but because she didn’t know what else to say other than his name. Peter Parker and his pretty mouth and his sinful hips and his big shoulders and his scarred chest, Peter Parker who was looking at her like she knew the secrets of the universe. 

“Where do you want me to come?” he asked desperately, his thrusts turning mind-numbingly hard and sloppy and Jesus Christ she was still coming, shaking against him uncontrollably from the rush of watching him crumble. “Tell me.”

“Come inside me,” she said hoarsely. She was exhausted, her body humming and too sensitive, and the only reason she was upright was because he was holding her in his strong arms. 

He searched her eyes, looking like he wanted to ask if she was sure, but an aftershock hit her and sent her cunt fluttering around him. With a groan, he shoved his face in her shoulder as he came, his hips slamming into hers. “Fuck,” he hissed, and his fingers were so tight against her that it ached, but she was too tired to push them away. Instead, she would take home ten little souvenirs from their indiscretion, if not more. He thrust again helplessly, muttering her name, and she was acutely aware of how sore she was, and how sore she’d be for days after. He’d gotten both of his wishes. “Sorry, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

That little bit of praise lodged itself firmly in her brain and she exhaled shakily as it echoed in her head. It was the first time she’d ever wanted to hear that she’d pleased him, and it had to be from the euphoric high she was experiencing, right?

She was collapsed against him, sweaty and drained, and his pulse thrummed against her nose. Curiously, she darted her tongue out to lick at the tendon in his neck and he twitched inside her. 

“You gotta stop that,” he said brokenly, his mouth hot against her collarbone. “Jesus Christ, what the hell did you do to me?”

“Picked a fight,” she mumbled as he shifted her carefully, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over her breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps under his tongue. He’d turned her into a rag doll: pliant and boneless with a brain full of nothing. Moving was too hard, and they stayed tangled as a sailor’s knot. Out of sheer curiosity, she ran her fingers down his back to stroke and explore the hard muscles she found there, wondering if she ought to climb out of his lap. Peter didn’t move either, his knuckles trailing over her trembling calves, and she took that as an invitation to remain. 

“Which was it?” he asked after a moment, planting a kiss against the hollow of her throat and nuzzling a tender spot he’d left behind. Eleven souvenirs, although she knew there were far more than that. 

“Which was what?” she asked, her head still spinning wildly. 

“Were you messing with me or did you like it?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she traced his bottom lip. 

She did know. It was unquestionably both: messing with him had turned into liking it. Without thinking, she brushed his messy hair from his face, studying the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that she’d never noticed. Maybe it was because she was full of endorphins and had just been fucked thoroughly, but she thought they were cute. Ugh, cute? That was the millionth mistake she’d made tonight. He had her all turned around and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. 

“Well,” he said after a moment as he fixed the twisted strap of her bra, his fingers lingering against her flushed skin for a moment too long, “maybe I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve. Maybe you’ll know by then.”

She sighed as he kissed the side of her neck gently, the scratch of his beard making her squirm. “Maybe I will.”

~

Title comes from Love Me Dead by Ludo. 

Obviously this could have all been solved by talking things out like adults as soon as they left the office but then how would they have angry mindgame sex with someone in a Cuban restaurant? Also, I’m incapable of writing a trope in a traditional sense so uhhh that’s what happened here. The more I thought about the title, the more I knew the direction it would take. 

This spawned when Rae and I were talking about how I had intended my sex pollen fic to be more rival-based but about 800 words in, I couldn’t stand the vibe I’d created. Naturally, we started discussing hate sex and it went from there. So thanks for putting this idea in my head, Rae! I threw in a P alliteration in your honor. 

Taglist: @rae-gar-targaryen @mrshipsmcgee @withahappyrefrain @spidervee @silkspiderstuff @abibliophobiaa @summertimestyles @letmeplaytheliontoo @xbamboowishesx @squiddtheekidd @mortwig

Here’s part 2!

#dizzy adores #this is EVERYTHING #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!spiderman #peter parker smut

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Reblog granted holy shit this was incredible

Bodyguard!kuroo - minors dni 18+, cunnilingus

Bodyguard kuroo who has your hips pinned to the wall, not caring if your legs are dangling and twitching in the air helplessly.

He has your thighs rest on his shoulders, his mouth hovering over your wet cunt. This position is uncomfortable and awkward. You are worried that you might fall. But with an insistent tone your bodyguard says he got you.

His hooded eyes try to imprint the helpless form of his boss's daughter in his mind as he brushes his lips against your meaty thighs - a promise of making your head spin in a good way.

You brace yourself with a shaky exhale, resting your trembling hands on the wall behind you.

Your skirt has been rolled up to your waist with impatient hands because kuroo can't wait to get a taste of your sweet pussy before you go off to college.

"Shi- I might fall, Mr. Kuroo - ngh - ah ah -" your back arcs prettily when you feel his warm mouth on your clit. Sucking, licking and then you feel him chuckle against you.

It feels like you are falling apart, hands moving frantically before they find his hair.

You know your servants would be quick to tell your fathers - Miya Atsumu and Miya kiyoomi if they ever find kuroo ravaging you on his knees in the comfort of your bedroom like this.

Although a part of you is enjoying this, you are worried about people finding out.

"Sir.... Hmph- fuck... what if someone -ngh- comes ?"

"You talk too much, kitten." He moans, slapping your thighs to hear you cry out loud. "I would die for this pretty pussy. I don't care."

He is eating you out as if you depraved him of your pussy last night. Widening his mouth, he collects all the juices your pussy gushed out. Greedily, he buries his head even more between your thighs.

You being his desperate whore, free your tits from your plunge top and start twisting and pinching your nipples.

Your trembling legs fold around his neck and you start to wonder how is he even breathing.

But Kuroo is in heaven.

The weight of your body, the softness of your skin, your slick cunt makes him purr with pleasure. He doesn't care about the fact that his boss would behead him if he ever finds him like this.

'cause he wasn't kidding when he said he would die for your pussy.

May I get a reblog? 🥺

#this is what happens when my brothers make me watch anime with them #I fall in love #Kuroo tetsuro

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I typed heinous things into Google trying to find this fic I hope you know that OP; that's how much I love this and have been trying to find it again

Better Off As Lovers (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Word Count: 5,076

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), bad language, my shit writing

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salty4tsukki

said:

hello! i luv ur blog sm!! can i pls req a scenario (or hc if that’s easier) of tsukki and reader going from enemies to lovers? perhaps reader ended up doing tsukki a solid that saved his ass and that marked the turning point of their relationship? sfw+nsfw if that’s oki!! tysm in advanced :-)

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Here is some spice for you guys. I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it lol. Tsukishima is such a fucking prick, I absolutely love it. @salty4tsukki​ I hope this was what you had wanted, also thank you so much for your support! Requests are closing tomorrow! I’m slowly but surely making my way through all of the requests and writing stuff up. I should probably be focusing on school but ya girl is avoiding responsibilities right now lmao. I hope you guys have a wonderful weekend!😚😚😚

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Keep reading

#tsukishima smut #haikyuu tsukishima

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BUN I SWEAR TO GOD YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME— this was art. ART! How??? It’s literally raw talent and poetry and I can’t wrap my brain around it. I think I stared at this for like twenty minutes. I read it and then just stared at the words because they’re so intricate and beautiful. I love this oh my god. Thank you ✨

more stephen brainrot. correlates with the previous brainrot pieces (but as usual can be read as a standalone), at this point this is a series lol. this is EXPLICIT, featuring one great instance of "inappropriate use of the eye of agamotto" that a nonnie dropped in my ask box some time ago, as well as a whole love confession and my need to validate myself with marilyn manson lyrics.

got a crush on a pretty pistol, should I tell her I feel this way? // got love songs stuck in my head, killing us away

Stephen has lust on his fingers and love in his brain. She's all over him, panting, gasping into the scarce space between their mouths where they babble ludicrous sounds of unadulterated bliss back and forth between themselves.

Clear sweat glistens on her chest, the droplets of it sliding down her neck; millilitres of obvious, visible proof Stephen gets under her skin as much as he hungers for her on the daily. He catches the tangy, salty fluid, savours the taste of it on his tongue, sucks on her skin until reds and purples and blues bejewel the arch of her throat and no space on her body is marked safe from his fervour.

It is just so pretty. She is so pretty, all warm and gleaming, depths and valleys of her muscles shadowed soft by the candlelight, tensed where she clings onto his larger, stronger body, chasing the bright bokeh of her upcoming release. It is so close and yet so far, just out of her immediate reach.

The frustrated, mewling sounds spill out of her like bubbly champagne, bittersweet and utterly delicious. Stephen is torn on keeping her on the edge like this forever: pliant, malleable and a little bit delirious. She'd get her revenge eventually, as it is and as it will be, the sweetest sort of torture on his weary, scarret body.

Lips stretched into a grin and her wet bottom lip between his teeth, Stephen easily wrestles her arms over her head, effectively trapping her smaller body under his broad form, taking a second to feel her heels dig into his ass, nestling him deeper, hungrily pushing his hard cock into her swollen cunt.

His cock twitches his approval, resulting in a full-bodied shiver that starts inside her pussy and ends at the roots of her hair. Stephen can feel the goosebumps rise on her heated skin.

The leather of the broken watch on his wrist is damp, slippery between his trembling fingers. It takes several tries to unclasp it; keeping up a glacial pace with his hips, Stephen succeeds in both frustrating her to the point of begging and resetting the Eye of Agamotto to it's default state. It hangs around his neck, settling prettily between her flushed breasts.

The moment of appreciation bleeds into one of impatience. Her curiosity gets the best of her; her eyes crack open, unfocused and blurry with moisture, her voice wobbles on the vowels and grazes on the consonants. "Stephen?" So much incredulity and excitement and trepidation and enthusiasm held in a single word.

"Shh," he calms her worries with a chaste kiss, sitting back on his shins and pulling her along like a perfect sheath to his cock. Just like it is on her nature, she doesn't resist, lips falling open in an obedient moan.

The arch of her waist is as prominent as ever under his large palm; Stephen ignores the jagged scars on his fingers, gripping the side of her body like an antiquity to drag his cock out of her cavern just to immediately push it back in, squelching slick and the tremble of her thighs grounding him in their little corner of passion on this wretched earth.

He feels every spasm, every enticing draw of her cunt. She nurses his cock and it pulls at the stibgsiof his soul and he never, ever wants to leave this moment.

The Eye glows, dousing the room in vivid greens and neon yellows, as the lines between then, there and now blur, pieces of furniture and interior losing their definition and bleeding into each other, into shapeless, formless shadows at the edge of their vision.

Stephen's eyes are focused on her and as she fights for her way to the surface, over the thrashing waves of neverending pleasure, he bares his teeth in a teasing smile, watching her come to a shattering realization. The green light enhances the shadows all around them, betraying her immense need. Curiousity and craving mix, bringing tension to her muscles.

The pace of his hips increases and it culminates in a piercing scream that makes her throat quiver with the force of intensity.

Stephen's grin only grows; as her cunt flutters, squeezes his cock in all the ways that he was told he should watch out for it would be the sweetest, most addictive poison he'd ever have- the brass casing of the Eye turns once and freezes under his fingers before he collapses on top of her, bucking his hips at a wild pace.

Her face is open and vulnerable, bittersweet in all of his thoughts; even before it begins, Stephen regrets the words bubbling out of his mouth and into the soft shell of her ear. Under the influence of the Eye and drunk on lust, his voice coarse, "I love you," Stephen rasps and pleads and feverishly demands reciprocation.

Nowhere close to being good at it, her words are passionately curious, repeating over and over again, swirling in the currents of frozen time and space. "Love you too, love you too," they barely break the whisper barrier. It's not a doubt but rather a new discovery, the sweetness of novelty and promise of everlasting comfort and understanding neither of them have really known before.

The world rocks around them like a canoe caught on tidal waves, they lazily lick at the shore, slowly but steadily overtaking Stephen's control and pulling them deeper into the ocean where a whirlpool of staggering extasy threatens to blur the lines between time and space and the universe. It is inevitable.

Stephen's fingers release the Eye, kick-starting the rapid movement of spheres with a sound click; borrowed minutes that had kept them both on the brink of release feel like centuries. They crash upon the both of them, a shared scream starting around their solar plexus, all their chakras activated and burning from the temporal anomaly.

It's not an orgasm, it's ascension. Their bodies morph into one for a second - at least, it feels like it, because the souls are much wiser than their brains and the flesh is weak, but nothing, nothing holds against pure, unadulterated need. She inhales his devotion and exhales her own; he drinks in her adoration right back up, not wasting a single breath.

Wet, hot and messy. Loud, like love. Various items fall and clatter as the temporal anomaly around them finally recedes, a few final tremors shaking the bed on which their bodies are still interwoven, burning, hearts beating in sync in a wild race to hurry and show their proof of allegiance to each other.

Her chuckle is breathless. For all that she is buried under him, damp hair sticking to his chest and slick with sweat, the joy is infectious. Stephen's responding scatter of kisses all over her face is nothing short than smitten.

"I love you."

"I love you more," she responds immediately, not putting up a fight, just staying true to herself.

#fic rec #I am OBSESSED #Stephen Strange #gah dayum

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 ╭ ◜◝ ͡ ◝ ͡◜◝  ╮  (                      )  (        cock       )    (                  )      ╰     ͜      ╯                      O                    o                             °       〃∩　∧＿∧      ⊂⌒（ ´・ω・）       ｀ヽ_っ＿/￣￣￣/ 　           　   ＼/＿＿＿/ 

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MATTHEW LILLARD 🗣

#rb bc the addition is too fine

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My kind of people— this man is fine as fuck

MATTHEW LILLARD 🗣

#Matthew lillard

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i’m so in love with dilfs

this is a dilf friendly blog

#dilf friendly blog here