#somebody put this in a bubble over hawkeyes head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

remyfire · 26 days

Note

uhhhhh for the kink prompts i think some beejhawk and praise would be delightful 👀

(prompts now closed) (Anon I promised I tried to go for full praise kink here but it went a bit softer than that and I hope you can forgive me and enjoy it all the same!!)

"Christ, Beej, the way you take cock, it's so..." Hawkeye digs his teeth into BJ's trapezius, muffling a shaky growl. As BJ scrabbles at the headboard like he's trying to find some kind of purchase, it triggers a response inside Hawk to keep him closer, fuck him faster. Hawkeye wraps an arm around BJ's waist and squeezes tight enough to make him cry out. He feels like a feral creature—not human, not animal, but possessed by an entity who would stop time to live in this moment for years.

They've been at it for hours, honestly. It's their first shared pass to Seoul since the dams broke and sent secrets, lust, and need spewing through the cracks, and there's no more trying to steal five minutes in supply or an hour in the Swamp with their sounds muffled and the door locked. No one's going to interrupt them, and honestly if they tried, Hawkeye would throw them out the window before he let them get his hands off of BJ for longer than thirty seconds.

Hawkeye has let BJ have the control since they got here, of course, as is their usual rhythm—he's never seen a man quite so frenetically compelled to perfect sexual acts in as short a time as possible, and they've only checked off a few things that Beej has groaned out a desire to experience—but the moment that Hawk woke from a twenty-minute nap to find his lover grinding his ass against him, he'd rolled him over and snatched the power right out of his grasp.

Hawk may have spent over a decade devoting himself to sex, but it has never been more necessary than in this moment. If nothing else, Hawkeye needs BJ to leave this room knowing the unfathomable depths that this adoration reaches.

He drags his palms up hot skin and soft, lush hair until he cups BJ's pectorals. His fingers pillow into them as he drapes his body over BJ like an umbrella protecting him from the storm. He's not sure what there is to protect BJ from here besides the ferocity of what Hawkeye wants to give him, but even still, he holds him here, nuzzling between his shoulder blades with a hum. "You know how good you are?" Hawk prompts, barely waits for an answering wordless whine before he shifts his angle just a hair to fuck more directly up into him, right over that sweet spot that has Beej punching the headboard just the once to shake his energy out. "God, you take it so well. Like you're made for it. I've never fit this good in somebody before, you know that?"

When BJ covers his mouth and muffles his moans, something flickers through Hawk's head, and he knows it's stupid, and he knows he's courting danger, but the last thing he needs is for Beej to hide himself like this while Hawkeye's filling him with cock and praise alike. Hawk grabs both of BJ's wrists and pulls back on them, holding BJ's body as taut as a drawn bow while he picks up his pace. "Fucking beautiful. Hot, tight..." It's never even once been said that Hawkeye is quiet during sex, but he struggles to let the words pour out of him now, careful to hold certain ones at bay, things he's not sure BJ's ready for.

BJ lets his head drop onto Hawkeye's shoulder, his mouth lolling open. Every thrust shoves a moan out of him like lava bubbling out of a volcano, like he doesn't know how to stop himself either. They're feverish fuel, each goddamn one of them, something for Hawk to put to good use.

"I-I gotta tell you more often," Hawk manages to grit out. "When you, when you look at me, I just..." His tongue goes thick in his mouth as he forces himself to slow down, to keep himself from cramping up. He wants this to last. Wants to remember what it feels like to be buried so deeply in him that he's forgotten how to break free. "How'd you put the fucking stars in your eyes, Beej? How'd I get lucky enough to find you?"

"H-Hawk," he whispers, a thready tone that's barely audible, but though Hawkeye waits for more, BJ melts into wordless, pleading sounds of pleasure.

As Hawk hooks his chin over BJ's trapezius, he gets the prettiest picture of Beej's hard cock, flushed and weeping for him, just for him. It's painfully erotic to see how it jolts with every thrust, how when Hawkeye releases his wrists, his hardness twitches, seems to curve more sharply toward BJ's stomach. The sheer physicality of this man feels more potent than any substance on the planet. It's unreal that so much sensuality could be contained within him, but from his broad shoulders to his powerful legs, he ripples with it all the same. Every lift of his hand, every step that he takes, they're a fluid kind of dance, hypnotic to watch and impossible to look away from.

He thinks sometimes that he could be content just to sprawl back on his cot and watch BJ go about his normal routine while stark nude. It'd be greedy, really, an opportunity to study the flex of his gastrocnemius, his jutting scapula, even visibly trace every rippling tendon in his neck as he turned his head.

The permission to stare. To know he never would have to look away.

"I love that you let me have you," Hawk breathes. He traces the tip of his tongue along his throat and groans at the taste of sweat. As BJ cranes his neck as an offering, Hawkeye's eyelashes flutter, and he nuzzles right against his jugular like a wolf preparing to go for the kill. "You feel so... The way that you..." There's too much to say. I love you. I can't imagine life without you. Words more lethal than poison. They'll taint this fragile moment and make it lose its strength with every second until it collapses, spent, unable to be revived.

BJ's skin vibrates when he murmurs, "You make me feel priceless," a dream of a sentence that nearly brings tears to Hawk's eyes.

"You are." His heart kicks up, urging him on. When he rocks forward, BJ grabs the headboard again and clenches around him hard enough to make Hawkeye squeeze the base of his cock. Not yet, not yet. Instead he zeroes in on the shape of his other fingers around BJ's waist. "You're a dream come true."

With a shudder, BJ lets his head hang between his supportive arms. "Don't stop, Hawk. God, don't stop..."

He could ask Hawkeye to do the impossible right now and he would. Anything. Anything for you.

Hawk drives himself now. Chases BJ's pleasure. He wants to go drunk on this man, madder than a maenad. It almost seems necessary to dull his own ecstasy, but that's a laugh. There's not a universe in existence where just getting to hear BJ breathe wouldn't thrill Hawkeye to the depths of him. Harder, harder, harder, pounding, skin slapping, gasps rising up and barely audible over the sound of the thudding headboard.

When BJ slaps the wall with a choked sob, Hawkeye covers his hand, slams into him, then stills. He reaches to feel along BJ's jaw, his chin, his cheek, finally coaxing him to turn his head so Hawk can see his face. Hawkeye holds him there, leaving kiss after kiss that makes his lips burn from the stubble, gently rutting against his ass.

"I wish this could last forever," Hawk admits. The words are too raw, too real. He buries his face in BJ's neck and picks up a lazy rhythm. He's intentional with the angle of his hips, rolling them as smoothly as he can manage even as his thighs ache and his abdomen clenches from his focus. It can't, of course. Even if he could somehow last physically, there's a world beyond these walls and an immutable future.

"Hawk?"

He expects censure. He shouldn't have hinted at that, shouldn't have—

"I want you to come," BJ whispers. "Want you to hold me. Wanna wake up in your arms, just like... Just like we're home, okay?"

What? Hawk's throat burns. No, there's no way he heard that right. But there's nothing else those words could've been. They were crystal clear. He sniffles, hates himself for not being able to hide his equal measures of hope and grief.

"And we're gonna do it again. And again. And it's not gonna stop. It's not." The certainty in his tone is unfathomable. Hawk's never met somebody who can lie to himself like BJ can.

But he admires that determination too. They've still got two days. Yeah, they're gonna have to eat eventually, take showers, maybe even drag themselves outside for a breath of fresh air, but forty-eight hours is a hell of a long time. He'd rather be doing this than fifty hours of straight surgery any week.

"It's not gonna stop," Hawkeye agrees, grinning despite himself at the pleased sound that rumbles through BJ. "I'll fuck you whenever you want, Beej, you just say the word."

"Will you..."

That isn't a question. Hawkeye can all but read this man's mind; picking out the nuances of his voice is easy. "Will I what?"

BJ whips his head around so Hawk nearly gets a mouthful of his silky hair. "It's stupid. Don't—" When Hawk brings his hips to a sudden stop, BJ tries to fuck back on him, but the angle makes it tricky. "Don't stop," he whines.

"Tell me." Hawk puts his lips right against the shell of his ear and breathes the words softer than a prayer. "Let me give you what you want, Beej."

As he curls his fingers around the headboard until his knuckles go white, BJ sucks in a deep breath. "W-Will you, uh... Goddammit, Hawk." The little laugh is more nervous than the bright humor that Hawkeye is so addicted to. "Make love to me?"

Time freezes. The words drift down like the gentlest snowflakes. And then a thunderous storm overtakes him, pressurized, making Hawkeye whimper as he locks his arms as tightly around BJ as he can. They fall forward until Beej is on his knees and forearms, until Hawkeye is rocking inside of him with deep, desperate strokes. "Oh, Beej," he whispers. He can't breathe. Can't even see or hear anything but the man who had him at Coleman Hawkins. "God, Beej, yes, yes, anytime, always, let me do that, huh? Let me love you."

"You sure?" So much is buried in two little words, and he hears it all—are you sure I'm worth it? Are you sure you want to deal with all my bullshit? Are you sure you're not going to change your mind if it gets harder? Are you sure it'll last?

"All of it," is all Hawk can find the ability to say. Maybe it's senseless but maybe BJ can hear what he means too. I'll give you everything.

His orgasm isn't transcendent, isn't pleasure striking him harder than lightning, but when he lets go, Hawkeye feels as though he rips his ribs open all the same and lets his bare beating heart rest on BJ's skin. As he noses along two vertebra, his tears drip, fall, leave long marks that dry cleanly. But as Hawk reaches around and takes BJ in hand, his frantic whispered words—"Ohh, yes, Hawk, like that, that's perfect, you're perfect."—tattoo themselves on him, invisible but not impossible to forget.

Hawkeye only has a moment to wipe his hand on the blanket before BJ rolls them back over and almost crushes him. "Jesus," Hawk snaps, trying to complain, but he can't stop himself from laughing either. "You wanna kill a guy or something?"

BJ flops on his back beside him, then drags Hawk into place, chest to chest, forehead to forehead. And as Beej caresses his cheek, he grins and his eyes shimmer, sapphires that gleam only for him. He opens his mouth as if there's something he wants to say, something that has Hawkeye holding his breath. But at the last moment, BJ gives his head a little shake and draws him in for a kiss that tells Hawk everything that he needs to know. One day, it'd be nice to hear the words, something to obliterate the fear that he can never quite dispel about what comes during infinite tomorrows. All the same, he can feel it, that if he's slipped his heart inside of BJ's chest, then he's protecting his lover's inside ribs of steel, and he dares someone to even try to take it away.

#anyway hot men wildly in love having hot and affirming sex just like they deserve. this is my kink.#hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #beejhawk #hawkbeej #hunnihawk #my writing #ask meme replies

15 notes · View notes

mousiefanfic · 6 years

Text

Giving Thanks

Pairing: Platonic Avengers x Reader

Words: ~1500

Description: Imagine Thanksgiving with the Avengers.

A/N: So, I don’t know if I got all of the avengers a spot in here. I did my best! I even included Peitro and Bucky. But wow, there’s kind of a lot of them now. Lol.

Also, I chose not to include Clint’s family because.... As nice as his wife’s character was, it came out of nowhere and I have a hard time writing them. Instead he’s just sort of a fatherly guy to the younger Avengers in this fic.

Last but not least (i swear!), Thanksgiving sucks for me because things with my family aren’t great. I hope that it can help somebody else who’s had a rough day. :)

*gif is not mine!*

It was scary at first, being the newest Avenger. After all, you had been an Avengers fan long before you discovered your powers.

But it had been a few months now, and you already felt at home. It wasn’t perfect, by any means. Cap could be a hard ass, Pietro used his super speed to mess with you whenever possible, Vision didn’t understand personal space, missions were rough, and Natasha beat you in training. Literally, every time. But it was still the happiest you’d ever been.

When Thanksgiving rolled around, it had been your plan to sleep in as late as you wanted. But, your room was the closest to the kitchen and you ended up waking up as soon as someone started shuffling around in the kitchen. Light sleeping seemed to be a side effect of all the training that you did.

And so, unable to fall asleep, you figured you might as well help out. Pulling a sweater on over your Captain America pajama shirt and Iron Man sweatpants, you stumbled out into the kitchen, still half asleep.

Only two people seemed to be awake yet, but they were hard at work, whispering insults and commands at each other as they stirred pots and preheated ovens.

“Hey. Clint, Natasha, do you guys need any help?” You asked, covering your yawn with a sweater-clad arm.

They both froze in place, slowly turning around to face you with matching grimaces on their faces.

“Did we wake you up? You should sleep. It’s a holiday.” Clint said.

You shrugged. “I’m a light sleeper. It’s no big deal. I’m happy to help!”

“Are you sure? The only reason I’m awake is because I owe him one and he insists on a magical thanksgiving.” Natasha replied, leaning on the counter across from you.

“Hey! Thanksgiving dinner is important. Don’t play.” Clint said with a glare to Natasha that seemed to straddle the line between playful and dangerous. She rolled her eyes in response.

“Yes! I’m sure. Now, what do you need done?” You asked, pulling an apron off of the hook, which you later saw had a black and red spider across the front. You suddenly started to question when you guys began to collect this much Avengers merch.

“Taste my cranberry sauce. It’s almost done, and then it’ll cool until dinner.” Natasha said, before Clint could give you a job.

She took your arm and let you to a pot on the stove. There had to be at least a gallon of cranberry sauce in there, bubbling like a witch’s cauldron. “Are we going to eat that much Nat?”

“Yeah, of course! Have you seen the way some of these guys eat? Thor? Pietro? Hell, even Cap and Bucky. We’re going to need all the food we can get.” Natasha replied.

You shrugged. “Fair enough.” She handed you a wooden spoon and you tried the sauce. It wasn’t what you expected. Sweet and sour like regular cranberry sauce but with a bite of cinnamon as well. It was great.

“What do you think (Y/N)?” She asked.

“Really, really good. This’ll be awesome!” You told her with a smile. She wasn’t jumping for joy at your feedback, but the way that her eyes lit up you knew that she wanted to.

Clint pulled you away a second later, leaving you in front of a counter with a chopping board, a vegetable peeler, and three bags of potatoes. “Have fun.” He said with a wink, turning back to his current project.

Avengers trickled into the kitchen throughout the morning. Vision was first, shortly after you woke up. Clint immediately put him to work on a casserole of some sort. You and Natasha kept a close eye on him though. No matter how much faith Clint had in the android’s cooking skills, you feared the kitchen going up in flames.

Shortly afterwards you turned around from a debate with Natasha over whether to watch Halloween movies or the Macy’s Parade and found your mixing bowl with pumpkin cheesecake batter gone.

It wasn’t long before you were chasing Pietro around the Avengers facility, shouting for him to “Bring back my batter! Right now Zoomie!”

Luckily Wanda intervened before things got too out of hand, levitating the cheesecake batter out of her twin’s hands and into yours. You thanked her with a hug before you all headed back to the kitchen.

When you got there Clint looked about ready to tear Sam’s head off for critiquing the way that he was preparing the turkey. Pietro made a smartass comment about how fitting it was that the birds were fighting about the bird.

Bruce and Tony were up next. Tony refused to assist with cooking, but sat at the counter and kept lively conversation with anyone who was chatting. And drank. So much drinking.

Clint put Bruce in charge of the green beans, making Pietro chuckle until Wanda elbowed him in the side. She then went back to helping fix Vision’s sweet potato casserole. Bruce didn’t seem to mind though. He was just happy to help out.

Steve and Bucky got up around the same time as well, and Steve felt bad that he hadn’t helped more with the cooking. He offered to find a movie and put it on in the living room, but no one took him up on that offer, not wanting to watch a “grandpa movie”.

As Pietro whipped anything that needed whipping with his super speed, including the mashed potatoes and some homemade whipped cream, he came close to starting almost four food fights. Clint put his foot down and eventually sent him to go put on the parade or find a movie.

Thor was awake last. He stumbled into the kitchen shirtless with his Thor’s hammer pajama pants on. He did really love those. When he was told that it was a holiday, he got upset, explaining that someone should have told him. Then they could all eat a Habrok from Asgard rather than a plain old turkey. It was easy to make him feel better though when Natasha put him in charge of decorating the dining table. And putting a shirt on.

Scott and Peter both stopped by around the same time, but couldn’t stay long. Scott had promised his daughter that he’d spend the day with her, and Aunt May wanted Peter home by one in the afternoon.

Peter dropped off some of Aunt May’s special stuffing and Scott brought some spicy gravy, which you made a mental note not to eat too much of when it made Steve’s nose run.

In general the whole morning was full of laughter and teasing and friendship, everything that you’d come to associate with the Avengers. And you all managed to get by with only two injuries. Clint accidentally grabbed a hot pot, and Pietro was showing off how quickly he could chop carrots when he accidentally cut his hand. Both injuries were handled quickly by Steve, even when Clint started to complain because “I’m a grown man! I am Hawkeye! I don’t need first aid for a teeny tiny burn! Im fine. And my turkey is gonna burn!”

By the time you were all set to sit down, the amount of food on the dining room table was..... Let’s just say that extra food had been put on chairs along the wall so that it was easily accessible, because the red tablecloth you’d gotten with Vision was barely visible. (Speaking of, the Android was a surprisingly good interior designer. He helped pick out all of the furniture for your bedroom.)

Once everyone was seated, you glanced around and couldn’t help but smile. Everyone was still in pajamas, although, luckily, Thor had put on a shirt, and everyone just looked so comfortable. They chatted and laughed and teased each other. Thanksgiving had never been a very big holiday for you, but you suddenly realized all that you had to be thankful for. Even as Pietro and Wanda tried to weasel their way into getting champagne rather the sparkling cider and got scolded by Clint, everything seemed perfect.

Suddenly, you stood up, before even really thinking about it, drink glass in hand. Conversation went quiet and all eyes were on you.

��Uh, okay, here we go I guess.” You started. “I wanted to make a toast! The avengers haven’t exactly had a smooth ride, but, honestly? The world would be screwed without us. Without you. All of you guys. And you know what? I’ve never really had a family. Not one that mattered. Until I met you. Being a part of this team is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you, for being you. I guess.” It was short and sweet, but really, what else was there to say?

Things were silent for a minute and you were about to just sit down, but Thor, who had been sitting next to you suddenly stood and pulled you into a crushing hug. You were careful not to spill your drink down his back as you melted into his embrace.

When he let go he turned back to the table and held up his own glass. “To the Avengers!”

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

146 notes · View notes