#Quick Response Code

[perfectiongeeks]

What are QR codes used for? The top ten use cases in 2023

A QR code, also known as a Quick Response Code, is a two-dimensional barcode that was invented in Japan in 1994. Barcodes are optically readable, machine-readable label that holds details or other information about the object to which it's linked. In reality, QR codes usually include information for a locator tracker, identifier, or another type of code that connects to a site or an application. The QR code utilizes four standard encoding methods (numeric, alphanumeric, byte/binary, alphanumeric, as well as Kanji ) to effectively store data; extension codes can also be utilized. QR codes have been created by an online QR code generator and are customizable using QRTIGER.

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[batravatra]

Fuck it, we ball

This post's tags are broken. Proper post here -> (x)

[vitaspera]

unhinged calix / viorel yapping commences..

[orgasming-caterpillar]

I might cry

[maximumeffort]

cheers to all who celebrate

[wander-wren]

Actually do you have any little Keigo fic recs 😔 I cannot find any as good as yours

aw, well, unfortunately a big reason i write march and my other agere fics is because bnha fandom has strikingly few of them as a whole, and a lot of the ones that do exist are not to my taste or, mm, less than well-written. also ao3’s tag system still lumps “age regression/de-aging” together and there are a LOT of de-aging fics because, well, superheroes and quirks and etc.

so in short, no i do not have recs for little!keigo and it’s the biggest tragedy ever.

[psuejo]

❥ ceo!nanami’s camgirl gone corporate!

prequel.

you got him good, he’ll admit. hiding your face, occasionally wearing wigs on stream like you’ve dyed your hair, not often bringing up your personal life unless it’s silly, menial anecdotes.

kento would’ve never known it was his pretty little secretary fucking herself on live twice a week and not some random girl who looked similar, had he not ran his annual background check and found your email linked to that porn account.

a rookie mistake, truly.

“dirty girl,” he grunts, one thick hand pressing right into the small of your back, keeping your squirming form bent over his desk. “having a side job like that...”

your already-short skirt is rucked up and over your ass, the fabric of your pantyhose and black panties torn to shreds as kento bullies his cock into you.

and, god, you’re just as soft and warm and tight as he imagined, walls clamping down on him and sucking him in like a black hole. no matter how many times you’ve fucked yourself on your fingers or dildos, it’s nothing in comparison to the feeling of your boss stuffing you full.

just big and girthy — a monster of a cock on a man that you’d thought was average. it stretches you out, forces your insides to mold to the perfect shape of him and leaves you keening, nails biting into the wood of the desk.

“do i not pay enough?” kento delivers a swat to your tender cheek, and you jolt, another glob of slick gushing around his length. “is the work i give you too demanding? are you thinking about quitting?”

as if he’d ever let you do that.

you frantically shake your head, a moan crumbling in your throat with a particularly hard thrust. “n-no, ungh!”

he frowns, tilting his head to the side, and those thin wire glasses slip down the high bridge of his nose. “so what—” smack! “could’ve possibly provoked you—” smack! “to fuck yourself on camera for others to see, hm?” smack!

a sob claws its way free, and every harsh spank against your ass sends a delicious tingle to your messy cunt, one that has your eyes sliding all the way back in your skull.

how can your boss, someone so reserved and cordial, be so... cruel?

but, fuck, if it doesn’t get you soaking wet, and kento knows that too, can hear every lewd, wailing squelch of your pussy. sounds even better in person, he thinks.

“mmngh, i— i’m sorry!” an apology you both know is halfhearted. “pleaseee, sir!”

... sir?

oh, that makes his cock throb, and you can feel every pulse like it’s in time with his heartbeat. that honorific has always sounded so sweet coming from you normally, but now? with your voice hoarse and breathy and whiny?

it’s fucking heaven.

(but he doesn’t miss how you avoided the question.)

kento ups his pace to something brutal, a relentless in-out, in-out, in-out that snatches the air from your lungs and the sense from your mind.

“y-you’ve been fucking with me,” he snarls, low and mean. “acting like some simple corporate girl by day just to slut yourself out online at night. comin’ in here with short skirts that barely pass the dress code a-and low-cut blouses. hah— if i didn’t know any better, darling, i’d say you wanted me to... to find out.”

maybe you did. maybe you knew who anonworkaholic was all along, maybe you used that specific email to make your account on purpose, maybe you came just a little harder during streams because you knew kento was watching, was fisting that heavy cock and cumming right along with you.

so what?

it worked, right?

your lack of a proper response (moans and pants don’t count, after all) tells kento everything he needs to know, along with the helpful noises from your weak hole.

“o-oh, i know she did,” kento coos, and it takes you far too long to realize he’s not talking to you. “know she wanted me to see her on camera, rubbing that needy clit—” his hand slips between the two of you and does just that, swirling quick, decimating circles, “— and whining like she was, mm, in heat.”

your orgasm sneaks up on you, blinding and beautiful, every nerve in your body on fire. your sloppy pussy spasms around his girth, a broken mewl of his name leaving your open, drooling mouth as you drench his desk and whatever paperwork that’s been pushed to the floor.

“f-fuck, nanami!”

his pupils are blown, pitch-black practically engulfing all of that typical soft brown as he watches your body tremble. you sound so pretty, look so pretty, are so pretty.

it’s a miracle kento pulls out in time to spurt thick ropes of cum all over your back with a long groan, lashes fluttering while his balls empty themselves. this is the hardest he’s cum in a while, but it’s like they say: nothing compares to the real thing.

everything in his office is a mess — documents ruined, desk slick and marked by your nails, chair knocked onto the ground, paperweight shattered. yet he grabs some tissues and cleans you up, wiping his seed from your skin and smoothing your skirt back down before he leans into your ear.

“invite me on your stream next time, mm? won’t tell a soul.”

after all, that’s both of your dirty secrets now.

[krockat]

man.. i needed to practice two songs for a upcoming performance,

and I heard how I was being a bit loud on the first lap of the first one, so i quieted down and was now just rewriting some lyrics and singing quietly whisperedly to make sure it was the right lyrics, melody, rhythm

And i know it's late to sing, like nearing 21:30, but I've heard my neighbors be way louder even on weekdays before.

and also early before 7. either parties, loud fighting, or renovation sounds. ear piercing kind of drilling stuff.

and i am sitting in a room where i know there's no bedrooms right by here too for my neighbors,

and i just heard a neighbor slam something repeatedly from somewhere and real loudly and aggressively scream

"snälla sluta sjunga"

which means "please stop singing" but it has another effect rather than please in english, this please

anyway. that was kind of triggering because one of these songs I made as a kid, and always had to sing quietly so no one could hear, and couldn't show my parents because they would be real gross about it, like, and they are like. both songs standing up to my parents and singing about trauma kind of songs and idk.

i feel crying coming on and it's painful. i'm sorry my inner child. i know how painful this is.

i want to perform this song esp for my inner child's sake. it's hard to make time in the day and yea i don't want to be making noise late of course but. aughggghhhhh

anyway so yea i rly want to move where I can have less neighbors who are disturbed or disturb me when i just need to make music. this isn't okay

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3

a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3

”what are you listening to?”

your seat is close to the heater. 

it was nothing but a lucky draw, on your part. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he let you choose; four chairs, four desks, one in the very back and closest to the window. right by the only source of heat in the room.

… of course you’d choose it. cliche or not, what else could you have done?

warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, planets spinning out of orbit.

through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones safe and snug and covering your ears, muffling all grating noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.

”… hey. did you hear me?”

gojo is being particularly chatty, today.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude. he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.

how exhausting.

with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. just to meet his gaze — the blurry shine of your own reflection, in the black glass of his circle-frames. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face.

like an excited puppy.

”what are you listening to?”

you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one of the heavy cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper. monotone. loud.

it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.

gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own blurry face, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.

with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.

”… do you like music?”

the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for a moment.

then he gives you a shrug.

”i guess?” he shifts his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”

ah.

your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.

silence overtakes you both, once more. 

”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”

(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)

before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats. 

on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two pools of blue, flecked with pure white, like frozen puddles in the street. cracks stretching across the surface. 

and then he’s strolling away.

gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.

but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams. 

”page 27, from the top.”

your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.

but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.

nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.

then he’s leaving, again.

that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.

though if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.

(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)

the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.

but now you wish you had.

(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)

with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.

”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”

you nod. 

geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.

”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

…

you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.

”… what kind of music does gojo like?”

silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.

then he parts his lips.

”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile. ”i see.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.

”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”

you can’t help but deflate, at that.

geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”

a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him. 

”… huh?”

”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”

…

(you haven’t got a clue.)

geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”

(… that’s a good question.)

he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing. 

thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.

”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

but that’s where he’s wrong.

satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour. 

geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.

when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world. 

that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…

(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)

”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?” 

geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to his circumstances. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.

… though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.

”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.

”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”

geto rewards you with a full smile.

”don’t mention it.”

spring is closer than you thought.

it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw. 

in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.

”did you bring your card?”

your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence. 

it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.

”huh? was i supposed to?”

”… are you kidding me?”

you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers. 

someone taps your shoulder.

geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.

a silent cue.

he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.

and then you realize what he’s done.

gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing. 

more importantly…

it’s just the two of you, now.

you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.

”… that’s so unfair.”

gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.

”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”

you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.

he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.

”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”

”… mm.”

from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again. 

”… i can buy some for you, though.” 

(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)

he clears his throat.

”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”

you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out. 

”… why?”

it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.

(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)

gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does. 

”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”

another series of blinks. 

gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.

”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”

you stay silent.

he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be. 

geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.

(why do you think that is?)

gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so. 

(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)

geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway. 

if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?

would that be okay with you?

(words that should be left unspoken.)

”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —

” — i don’t listen to anything.”

gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.

he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him. 

”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”

you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down. 

”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”

the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.

but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.

white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side. 

if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.  

”i see!”

a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.

”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”

a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.

(… if you can even call it that.)

geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.

”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”

”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.

spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.

you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter. 

you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay. 

”i’ll take it things went well, then?”

geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.

you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.

”i’m glad.”

the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.

”won’t that moron get cold?”

ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing. 

you’re wondering the same thing.

geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders. 

”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”

you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.

an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”

… another tilt of your head.

geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.

”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”

ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe. 

ah.

gojo can keep himself warm.

the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…

(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.

gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)

…

you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks. 

as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.

in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.

spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in. 

(but you aren’t worried.)

[starrdream]

Anakin Skywalker x Padme's sister!reader summary: Anakin can't seem to control himself around Padme's younger sister includes: SMUT, praise, small age gap

Despite being Padme's bodyguard for years, Anakin couldn't bring himself to take his eyes away from you.

As if the Jedi code forbidding him from acting on his feelings towards you wasn't enough, the fact that you were Padme's sister and 4 years younger than him was the dealbreaker.

He was already 22 and you were barely 18. It made him feel guilty for thinking about you like that, especially when he was basically following your sister around half the time.

Padme was also very protective over you-always making sure you were okay, never letting you get in trouble, no leaving the house without bodyguards. She really wasn't taking any chances with you, even though she was usually in far more danger than you..

He'd never admit it but it made him so jealous.

He wanted to be the one to care about you like that. He wanted to be the one you'd kiss and hug every time you came to visit, not the one you'd acknowledge once in a blue moon.

It's not like the two of you never talked, you did..occasionally. Quick glances, shared laughter while you were with your sister and a rare smile when passing by.

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you and your attention completely and utterly to himself. The mere sight of you made his resolve weak.

He didn't know what he liked about you more. Your eyes? Your laugh, smile? The way you carried yourself? How smart you were? Was it the more reckless part of you?

Once, Padme insisted on sending Anakin to ensure your safety while you were out in the city. You claimed you'd 'hanging out with friends'..Poor Anakin had to watch and listen to you flirt with a boy for 2 whole hours.

It was the fact that he was nothing like the young boy that bothered Anakin. He was blonde with shorter hair and looked like he was about your age. Seemed like he wasn't a part of the Jedi order, considering the fact that he was publicly flirting with you..or the fact that he had any time to spare at all. Overall, Anakin and him were polar opposites.

He still wasn't over that even though 3 years passed since that day.

Though, he'd much rather watch you pining over a guy than not see you at all. The truth was, you hadn't come to Coruscant for a while. At least, not when he was there.

Because the war was slowly subsiding, Anakin's missions became longer-helping the galaxy recover from the damage it's people brought upon it.

Lucky for Anakin, Padme insisted you move to Curoscant to live with her. He, of course, had no knowledge of this-he was on a mission when Padme discussed this with you.

So now, not even 3 days after he returned from a mission-he was staring right at you as Padme cooed over you. He froze mid step, breath hitching and heart racing.

Anakin hadn't seen you in, what? 6-7 months, yet you looked so different. More mature, responsible..He wasn't sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him but to him, you looked like an actual angel.

You were so much beautiful than he remembered. Or maybe it was because he was starting to forget you which he silently cursed himself for as he walked over.

Anakin’s boots echoed in the hallway as he made his way closer, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t want to face. The light around you seemed to shimmer differently now. There you were, sitting next to Padmé, laughing softly as her sister lovingly fussed over you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

But it was the way you held yourself—like you didn’t need anyone—that got to him the most.

The pull toward you was undeniable, raw. He’d tried to ignore it before. He’d convinced himself that it was just the stress of the war. That it was just the loneliness. But now? Standing here, seeing you like this, he couldn’t deny it anymore

"Anakin." You greeted, your voice warm but with an edge of something more. It made him pause.

"Hello m'lady." He said, his voice sounding a little too hoarse, a little too soft. He tried to force a smile, but it felt like it cracked before it fully formed. "I just got back."

Padmé looked up from you, a smile forming on her lips. "Anakin, it’s good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you up so soon."

"I uh...wasn't really tired last night" He shakes his head, standing behind Padme with his arms crossed.

"Well, let me go find something for us to eat and drink, yeah?" Padme smiled at you expectantly.

"Sure." You chuckle out a sigh.

As soon as she's out the door, you can't help it.

"Ani? My goodness you've grown" You chuckle, leaning your face on the palm of your hand.

"So have you... grown more beautiful, I mean...for a Senator, I mean."

Anakin tries to keep his cool by throwing you a sheepish smile, but in reality-he's mentally facepalming for his nervousness and stupid choice of words.

You chuckle, shaking your head as Padme comes back. She's holding a tray with 3 cups, a teapot and some cookies.

Adapting to seeing you around all the time was agonizing for Anakin. Not a second passes by without Anakin thinking about you. It seems like you are embedded in his soul.

He'll never get used to you smiling and greeting him every time you walked by. Nor eating meals together. Nor catching you staring at him, seemingly zoned out.

It was late, maybe 2 AM. The whole apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of appliances and the occasional ship passing by.

He had spent too many nights like this-sitting on the couch, staring at the view before him, unable to turn off his thoughts. It was getting ridiculous, really. He was a Jedi. He was trained to control his emotions, to let go of attachments.

"What the-" His head snapped towards the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from your room.

An intruder? No—he would’ve felt a disturbance in the Force.

Anakin was on his feet before he could think, instincts kicking in as he rushed toward your door. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached for the handle, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pushing it open.

"M'lady?!" He called out as soon as the door opened. Anakin stepped into the room just in time to see a shadow slipping toward the window. His jaw clenched.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

You froze.

Slowly, very slowly, you turned around, caught like a thief in the night. Your eyes were wide, lips slightly parted, as if you were scrambling for an excuse.

Anakin crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with an unimpressed look. "Well?"

You exhaled through your nose, muttering something under your breath before forcing a smile. "Anakin! What a surprise. I was just-uh. getting some fresh air."

"At two in the morning?”" He arched his scarred eyebrow.

You cleared your throat, straightening up and taking a few steps away from the window. "Best time for it."

He huffed out a dry laugh, stepping closer. "Try again."

You shifted on your feet, eyes darting toward the door, then back to him. "It’s not a big deal."

"If it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t be sneaking."

That shut you up.

"I wasn’t going far," you argued. "Just—meeting my friends."

Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You do realize that Coruscant isn’t exactly safe at this hour, right?"

"Oh, please," you scoffed. "It’s not like I’m wandering into the lower levels. We’re just going Nothing’s going to happen."

"That’s not the point." His jaw clenched. "You shouldn’t be sneaking around in the first place."

You rolled your eyes. "I’m not a child, Anakin. I don’t need a lecture."

"No," he agreed, stepping even closer. "But you do need to stop making my life harder."

"What?" You scoffed, arms crossing over your chest.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face before looking at you again, frustration laced with something deeper. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to worry about you all the time?"

You stared at him, caught off guard. "Anakin, I'm not 12, I'll be fine."

Anakin exhaled sharply, his patience hanging by a thread. "Either you stay, or I’m coming with you."

"You don’t get to make that decision for me, Anakin."

"Someone has to," he shot back, voice rough with frustration. "Because clearly, you don’t care how reckless you’re being."

You scoffed. "I’m not reckless. You're just like Padme. I don’t need you hovering over me like some overprotective-"

"Maker, do you even hear yourself?" He took a step closer, whisper-shouting now in order to not wake up your sister. The intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. "I can’t just let you walk out of here because it would kill me if something happened to you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.

"Anakin-"

"No." He shook his head, stepping even closer, until he was barely a breath away. "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t act like it doesn’t tear me apart every time you walk away. And I sure as hell can’t sit here and let you slip through my fingers again."

The air between you was electric, charged with something you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "Then don’t."

Anakin froze. His breathing was uneven, his hands trembling at his sides.

And then-his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate, messy, like he had been holding himself back for far too long and had finally snapped.

You gasped against him, but any protest died the second his hands cupped your face, pulling you deeper into him. His lips moved against yours like he was afraid you’d disappear, like he needed to memorize the way you felt.

Stars, you were drowning in him. In the way he kissed you, in the way his breath hitched when your fingers curled into his tunic.

He kissed just like he fought-passionate, relentless, as if the very idea of stopping was unbearable. His fingers curled into your hair, deepening the kiss, stealing every breath from your lungs.

A low groan rumbled in his chest when you let out a soft whimper, and suddenly, you found yourself backed against the wall, his body caging you in.

His thumb brushed over your jaw as he pulled away, gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. "Tell me to stop," he rasped. "Tell me, and I will." He mumbled, face barely an inch from yours.

You didn’t even think twice before your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. Every part of you felt alive, a rush of heat and electricity coursing through your veins.

His lips left yours briefly, both of you gasping for air, but he didn’t give you a chance to fully process what was happening. His mouth was on your neck now, pressing soft, heated kisses against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Anakin..." Your breathless voice cracked as your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

He groaned your name, his lips trailing upward to your ear. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he muttered between kisses, his voice raw. "I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s... it’s all I ever do."

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of his words and his touch. Everything in you wanted this-wanted him. It was all too much, and yet, you couldn’t pull away.

You felt his breath hot against your skin as he pulled back, his chest heaving. "Tell me you want this too," he said, voice thick with desire. "Please, just say it. I need to know you want this."

You looked up at him, eyes clouded with the same urgency, the same need. "I want this," you breathed out, unable to hide the truth any longer. "I want you."

"Please…" He whispered your name like a prayer, his hands moving to the small of your back, urging you closer. He pushed you back on the bed, crawling over you.

You welcome him with open arms, wrapping one around his neck while the other one runs over his back and arm. His arm is steadily holding you up by the waist, caressing and squeezing your skin while the mechanic one is holding his weight up.

"Ani" You whimper as his hips involuntarily grind against you, rubbing his thick length against your thigh.

"I'm sorry m'lady" He teases, lips latching onto your jaw and neck. "You ever done this before?" He mutters against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck.

"Yeah.." You mumble sheepishly, although you do your best to hide it. For some reason, that felt worse than saying you weren't. You couldn't tell why.

He hums, nipping at a sensitive spot on your neck before he pulls back slightly, slipping his Jedi robe off and letting it fall to the ground.

"I couldn't wait to get my hands on you.." Anakin brushes his nose against your neck as his hands trail from your thighs up to your waist, slipping under your shirt and taking it off.

You waste no time in tugging on the remaining clothes he has, which he complies with immediately-pushing his pants down as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

Withing seconds, both of you are naked and his tip is teasing your entrance as he adjusts himself. "Tell me to stop if it gets too much, okay?" He whispers.

"As if.." You chuckle, swallowing thickly as he parts your legs with his knee, accidentally brushing against your wetness.

He shakes his head in amusement before bottoming out, drawing a loud gasp from you.

"Shh...can't have none of that when your sister's sleeping in the next room.." He warns you

"R-right.." Your voice weavers.

"Good, good.." He nods tauntingly before starting to move again. His hips snap against yours in a firm pace, filling the sound with various but muffled noises.

Your hands run up and down his back and arms, grounding yourself against the almost punishing sensations. To refrain from making noise, you bit down on your lip. Hard. To the point where you could swear it was bleeding.

Still, soft and desperate noises managed to make their way to Anakin's ears and gosh, he was enjoying them, but no way is he gonna let himself be caught before he destroys your pussy thoroughly at least once.

"I told you to shut up." He mutters breathlessly, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

That, mixed with his precise thrusts makes you moan into his hand, and arch up, taking him deeper. His tip had no problem in kissing your cervix repeatedly..

"Damnit.." He huffs "No wonder half the Senators trip over themselves for you."

Your eyes roll back, fingers digging into his skin desperately as your body recoils against the bed with the force of his thrusts. Anakin's eyes keep wandering over your half covered face and body-taking in the way your tits bounce.

"Anakin-oh, Maker" You breathe out, tightening around him as if to pull him deeper and further into you.

"Too loud.." He shakes his head, smashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss. It's messy and desperate, as if he never kissed anyone in his life. His tongue delves in your mouth, lapping over yours hungrily.

"Mhm, that's right." He encourages "I've got you."

His voice alone sent shivers down your spine. Heat started pooling in your lower belly, the familiar sensation making you more aroused and excited.

Your hand grips the sheets, back arching further into him as you cum. Your walls are basically suffocating his length and boy, does it feel good.

Your breathing is labored and you're babbling nonsense quietly as Anakin ruts his hips into yours repeatedly, groaning above you. His breath fans your neck and jaw, making you feel even hotter and vulnerable.

"Fuu-where do you want me?" He prompts, voice strained. "Hm, pretty girl?"

"Mmmh.." You whine "Anywhere you want..I don't care I just need you."

"Correct." He teases, giving a few rough thrusts before spilling inside of you with a soft whimper of pleasure, painting your insides white.

[hargo-news]

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[everlastingserenitys]

I saw this video and it's sooo caleb coded!!! >_< so here's a little something I made <3 little short and sloppy sorry :(

cw. fondling, fingering, nipple play, gentle sex, needy!caleb, kinda fluffy hehe

"ey pipsqueak, we need to clean this closet out. try some of these dresses to see if they still fit you." Caleb said as he grabbed a handful of mini dresses and threw them on the bed.

an annoyed sigh escaped your lips and you skimmed through all the dresses to see which one to try first.

eventually after searching for a bit, you found a simple silky light pink-ish one and you headed towards the bathroom to get changed.

after you got changed, you looked into the mirror and fuck, this dress was perfect. you step out the bathroom and sit back on the bed to find another dress to wear, but before you could pick out one more, Caleb turned around and threw a shirt at your face.

"aye! what was that for!" you chuckle, removing the shirt off of your face and looked at Caleb, whos eyes were definitely not on yours.

you follow his gaze and they stop right where you expected.

your cleavage. what a fuckin' pervert.

"Caleb?"

"hm?"

"what are y-"

but Caleb doesn't let you speak. he throws another shirt at you before strutting his way to the bed and immediately climbed on top of you.

when you lifted the shirt off your face you were met with Calebs large figure shadowing over you. his eyes were filled with need and suddenly he lifted you off your back and placed you on his lap.

"this dress, pipsqueak..." he sighed, tracing his fingers along the curves of your figure, while also toying with the fabric bonding with your body.

"what 'bout it?" you tease, poking at his chest and that caused a desperate whimper to escape out of his lips. Calebs large hands mold around your hips and he flips you over, so now his chest was pressed against your back.

his fingers snake your whole body, and finally he made it to your breasts. with a quick movement he immediately cups his hands around them.

he toyed with your breasts, squeezing, pressing, pulling on them. all through the dress, and he was trying to hold himself back so, so bad but of course he couldn't.

"too pretty.." he mumbled and slid his fingers under the top part of your dress. his cold fingertips immediately make contact with your perked up nipple and he pinched and pulled at it, letting low, quiet moans escape your lips.

"Caleb.." you whisper, your voice laced with neediness. Caleb hums against your shoulder as the dress that was on you, was now almost about to slide off your body.

but Calebs movements didn't stop though, he continued to play with your tits like they were stress balls.

your head tilts back in pleasure as you felt arousal surging through you. Calebs rough lips start to leave kiss marks on your shoulder, and soon seek lower and lower on your body.

he removed his hands from your breasts and slid the remaining of your silky dress off, until you were left bare and exposed beneath him. a low whistle was heard from behind you and Caleb soon flipped you over until you were facing him.

he immediately eyes down your figure and his gaze lingers on your pussy for a second before he pushed you down, so that you were laying on your back.

Caleb grabs onto your ankles and wraps them around his hips, his fingers fumbled on his belt for a second and he took multiple tries to unbuckle it open and finally, when a click was heard he took the rest of his clothes off.

"I shouldn't had made you try the dresses huh?" Caleb mumbled, pressing his leaking tip with your already soaking entrance. you shook your head in response and a mocking chuckle was head from Caleb before he slowly, carefully, pushed himself deeper in you.

you felt like you were in heaven.

his perfectly molded cock stretched out your walls like it was used to it. you slowly rode yourself against Caleb, letting both you and him savour the slow undeniable pleasure rushing through both of you.

the sounds of both of your moans filled the room, you felt Calebs fingers wrap around your hips as he kept a firm grip on them, not quickening the pace in you at all. he needed to take this slowly, and perfectly.

"somethin' about that dress makes me...ngh feel like this?" Caleb mentions, his purple gaze continues to look down at you with love.

"I just don't know...if it was the dress." another deeper thrust was sent through you.

"or you."

you let out a loud moan when you felt Caleb push his full length in you and kept you there for a moment, just to stare into your eyes.

you stare up at Caleb with teary eyes as he continued to look down with you with only love filled in his eyes. "what d'ya think pipsqueak?" he asked.

"me, of course."

Caleb chuckled and shook his head, "of course it's you." he said, pulling himself halfway out of you and then slowly thrusting himself back and forth, seeking for release.

"cal- 'm gonna cum!" you whine, your fingertips digging in the bedsheet as you tried to ride yourself to release quicker. but Caleb hushes you pulls out.

"dont ride it out too fast," he frowned, pressing a finger against your twitchy clit, giving it a few rubs. you moan and tilt your head back in pleasure. Calebs fingers seek your soaking already stretched out cunt and slid a finger in as he stroked you in a slow, deliberate movement.

something about this felt way better than trying to release any quicker, you closed your eyes shut as he continued to lazily stroke you in a slow rhythm.

"'m close." you gasp out and Caleb nodded, still continuing his movements inside you. and then a wave of pleasure washed through you as you felt yourself reach climax.

a sigh left your lips when you felt Calebs fingers slide out of you and help you sit up on the bed.

"my turn now!" he chuckled.

[daxisyzz]

Lost for words

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands to himself while your on a call with Yelena, wanting all your attention, making you lose your focus.

Based off this prompt from Pinterest

Word count: 3.1k+ (I kinda got too into it lol)

Warnings and tags: Clingy Bucky, he's a menace, Yelena mentioned (bestfriend), neck kisses, more kisses, Bucky is basically touch starved, cute relationship dynamics, Bucky can't keep his hands off of you.

A/n: this is my little treat for my 100 followers milestone. Thank you guys!! Enjoy the fic!!

Love you guys <3

Ps. Go read chapter 1 of my new series Business Proposal ♡

Also requests are open.. feel free to send 'em.!!

You liked to think of your apartment as a sanctuary. Sure, the walls were a little thin, and the paint on the windowsill was starting to peel, but it was yours. A cozy home that smelled of vanilla-scented candles, fresh laundry, and the faint aroma of Bucky’s cologne that seemed to linger everywhere these days.

Most days, Bucky Barnes, your sometimes frustrating, always handsome boyfriend—respected that sense of peace. After all, you’d established a routine of sorts: quiet mornings sipping coffee together, mid-day breaks where he’d slip away for a run or to tinker with something mechanical in the spare room, and lazy evenings spent on the couch binge-watching the latest Netflix series.

But today, it seemed, he had other ideas. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, your phone pressed to your ear, talking to Yelena Belova—your best friend, occasional partner-in-crime, and the only person who could drag you into the most unexpected of situations. Today’s phone call was nothing dramatic, though. She was simply updating you on her day, complaining about a near-disastrous grocery trip, while you nodded and made little sounds of sympathy at all the right times.

It started out innocently enough: Bucky roaming into the kitchen, glancing your way, flashing you a quick grin. You raised your eyebrows in greeting, mouthing I’m on the phone, which typically was code for don’t do anything weird. He gave a small salute, as if to say Understood, ma’am, and disappeared around the corner.

But then, just as Yelena began launching into a story about the horrors of supermarket lines and fighting an old lady for pickles, you felt the faintest brush of warmth at your back. At first, you thought you were imagining it. You continued listening, your phone tucked snugly against your ear. But then a hand—large, warm, and far too confident, settled on your hip. You startled, nearly dropping the phone in surprise.

“Bucky,” you whispered, craning your neck to look at him. He was standing behind you, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “I’m on the phone,” you mouthed.

He only grinned in response, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. His voice, when he leaned in, was barely above a murmur. “I know.”

You shot him a pointed glare, one that said Behave yourself. But Bucky, of course, had never been particularly good at following that order.

Yelena’s voice in your ear continued, completely unaware. “So anyway, the cashier looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo for buying that much hot sauce. But it’s not my fault the best brand was on sale—are you even listening?”

“Yes,” you managed, voice slightly strained, “I’m listening. Sorry, I just—”

Bucky took that moment to press closer, his chest aligning perfectly with your back. The warmth of him was impossible to ignore. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, a barely-there touch that sent a chill of awareness down your spine. The phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

“Everything okay?” Yelena asked, clearly catching the odd shift in your tone.

“Fine,” you said too quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to focus. “Just, uh… I spilled something. Go on.”

You felt, rather heard Bucky’s chuckle against you. His arms slid around your waist, locking you in place. Slowly, he lowered his head to the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was so light you might have imagined it—if not for the way your entire body tingled in response.

You could practically hear Yelena’s eyebrow arching on the other end of the line. “You sure you’re not busy? I can let you go if you’re… preoccupied.”

“No, no,” you insisted, ignoring Bucky’s soft hum of amusement. “I’m not preoccupied. Really, I’m—” You sucked in a sharp breath as Bucky’s lips dragged across your skin, teasingly slow. “I’m good,” you finished, sounding decidedly not good.

Bucky was a menace. You realized that with startling clarity. He was enjoying every second of this, too—the way your breath hitched, the way your shoulders stiffened when he kissed just behind your ear. If he’d come in loud and obvious, you could have pushed him away, shot him a glare, or at least excused yourself from the call. But this was worse. He was stealthy, methodical, lulling you into a trap with that soft voice, gentle kisses, and the faint scrape of his stubble against your neck.

And oh, you were definitely trapped.

“Let me guess,” Yelena said, suspicion in her tone, “Bucky’s there, isn’t he?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Bucky took advantage of your silence, kissing a trail from the base of your neck up toward your jaw, each press of his lips making your heart pound harder.

"Uh,” you managed, “maybe.”

Yelena barked a laugh. “That’s a yes. Put me on speaker. I want to say hi.”

You stared at Bucky, who gave you a quizzical tilt of his head, as if to say What’s she saying? For a second, you debated whether or not to do as Yelena asked. If you put the call on speaker, she’d hear every little sound: the rustle of Bucky’s clothes against yours, the husky laughter you were certain would spill from his lips at any moment. But you couldn’t exactly refuse her, not without raising even more suspicion.

Reluctantly, you tapped the speaker icon. “Yelena, you’re on speaker,” you said, trying to sound composed. It was a losing battle.

“Barnes,” Yelena said, her tone mocking, “are you bothering my best friend again?”

Bucky cleared his throat. You felt the rumble of it against your back. “I wouldn’t call it bothering,” he said. His voice was low, smooth as silk. “I’m just showing her a little attention.”

You could practically see Yelena rolling her eyes. “She’s on the phone, you know. With me. Some people might say that’s rude.”

Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Rude, maybe,” he allowed, “but she’s been ignoring me all day. I had to get her attention somehow.”

You wanted to defend yourself, but the words lodged in your throat as Bucky nuzzled against the side of your neck again. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Yelena said, her amusement obvious. “You’re tormenting her.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “Torment’s a strong word.”

“That’s because it is torment,” you finally managed, your voice shaky. “He’s being insufferable.”

Bucky hummed. “You don’t sound too unhappy about it, doll.”

You could hear Yelena snort. “I’ll let you two figure this out. Call me back when Barnes isn’t acting like a cat in heat.”

You tried not to laugh, but the giggle bubbled up anyway, half from the absurdity of the situation, half from your own flustered state. “Okay, okay. Talk to you later.”

The moment you hung up, Bucky wasted no time. He spun you around in his arms so that you were facing him, your phone clutched tightly in one hand. He wore a cocky grin that made you want to kiss him and slap that grin away, all at once.

“You have the worst timing,” you scolded, although your voice trembled with laughter.

He shrugged, not the least bit repentant. “You looked too adorable not to bother.”

You tried to arch an eyebrow in disapproval, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not when Bucky was looking at you like that, with those soft eyes and that infuriatingly handsome smirk. “I was on the phone.”

He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “I noticed.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you grumbled, but you didn’t pull away when he ducked his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

His hands settled on your hips, drawing you closer. “I learned from the best.”

Despite yourself, you melted into the kiss, letting the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips chase away your frustration. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long. Not when he kissed you like he was savoring every second.

When you finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I swear, you’re worse than Yelena sometimes.”

He laughed. “High praise.”

You tried to scowl, but the affection in his gaze made it impossible. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He pressed a playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll take it.”

Later, you found yourself curled up on the couch, scrolling through messages on your phone. Yelena had sent a few texts, each more teasing than the last. You alive? Surviving Barnes’s torment? You typed back a quick reply: Barely. But yes. Thanks for leaving me high and dry.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets. “Need any help fending off Yelena’s jokes?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who gave her ammunition.”

He smirked, coming over to flop onto the couch beside you. “True. But I’m also the one who can help you forget about it.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “How exactly?”He reached out, plucking your phone from your hand. “By stealing your phone, for starters.” He tossed it onto the coffee table, far out of reach.

“Bucky!” You reached for it, but he caught your wrist, tugging you closer until you fell against his chest.

“You work too hard,” he said, settling you against him. “And you spend too much time on your phone. I’m just making sure you take a break.”

You snorted. “A break from Yelena’s teasing, or from your own mischief?”

He shrugged, running a hand up and down your arm. “Maybe both. Besides, I like having your full attention.”

“You had it in the kitchen,” you pointed out. “Remember? You nearly made me drop the phone.”

His smile widened, and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. “That was different. Now you can actually enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his fingers slid beneath your chin, guiding you into a kiss. It was slow, deep, and achingly sweet, every bit of teasing replaced by genuine warmth. Your annoyance melted away, replaced by a comfortable haze that made you forget anything beyond the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, he traced a thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry if I bothered you,” he said softly, though there was still a playful glint in his eyes. “You know I can’t help it sometimes.”

You brushed your lips over his knuckles. “I know. And… I don’t actually mind.”

His grin turned lopsided. “You say that now, but wait until next time.”

You let out a mock groan, shoving him lightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Never,” he promised, though the twinkle in his gaze suggested otherwise.

A little while later, you found yourself in the kitchen again, rinsing dishes from a late lunch. Bucky hovered nearby, drying each plate you handed him. The domestic routine was soothing—until he decided to nudge you with his hip, nearly making you drop a fork.

“Seriously?” You glared at him, though you struggled to keep a straight face.

“What?” He feigned innocence. “My hand slipped.”

You snorted. “Sure it did.”

He set the plate aside, then stepped closer, the warmth of his body pressing against your back. You felt his breath on your neck again, and your heart kicked up a notch, recalling how he’d distracted you earlier. His lips grazed your ear.

“You’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he murmured.

“Funny,” you replied, fighting a grin, “I was thinking you’re adorable when you’re not annoying me.”

He laughed quietly, nuzzling into your hair. “You still love me.”

With a soft sigh, you turned in his arms, letting the water run. “I do,” you admitted, resting your hands on his shoulders. “But you have to promise not to sabotage any more phone calls.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I can promise to try.”

You knew that was the best you’d get. Rolling your eyes, you leaned in to kiss him, the warm press of his lips sending a pleasant hum through your body.

A sudden buzz echoed in the kitchen, and you both turned to see your phone vibrating on the counter. Yelena’s name flashed across the screen. Bucky grinned, lifting a brow. “Round two?”

You huffed, reaching for the phone. “Don’t you dare.”

He put his hands up in surrender, stepping aside with an exaggerated show of good behavior. You picked up the call, putting it on speaker before you could change your mind.

Yelena’s voice came through loud and clear. “Hey, troublemaker. You done making out with Barnes?”

Your cheeks flamed. “That was quick. And you’re the troublemaker.”

“Details, details,” she quipped. “Anyway, I was thinking about that recipe I mentioned earlier—”

“Oh, right. The spicy pickle challenge,” you said, glad to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

“Exactly. I need your help. I can’t figure out if I should make them into some kind of hot sauce, or if I should try a marinade. But I need to test it on someone who’s not me. You in?”

You glanced at Bucky, who mouthed, Absolutely not. Smirking, you replied, “Sure, why not?”

Yelena laughed. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details. And by the way, I’m bringing extra pickles so no old ladies can steal them from me.”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping closer to the phone. “You’re not going to drag her into any fights, are you?”

“No promises,” Yelena shot back, then paused. “You being nice to her, Barnes? Or do I need to show up and save her?”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to you, a playful challenge in his eyes. “She doesn’t need rescuing from me.”

You decided to intervene before Yelena got any ideas. “Alright, enough bickering. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Fine,” she replied with a dramatic sigh. “But if he bugs you again, you call me.”

“Will do,” you said, rolling your eyes affectionately.

The call ended, and you braced yourself for another round of teasing, but Bucky just slipped his arms around your waist, looking surprisingly thoughtful. You looped your arms around his neck.

“You know,” he murmured, “I like seeing you happy. Even if it means occasionally getting on your nerves.” A warm flush spread through you. There was that sincerity again, the undercurrent of genuine care that anchored all his playful chaos. “You make me happy,” you said softly.

He brushed a stray hair from your face. “Good.”

That evening, you and Bucky ventured out for a walk. The late sunlight gilded the buildings, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. With your hands intertwined, the two of you wandered the streets, content to let the conversation flow.

He told you about his latest hobby—fixing up an old motorcycle he’d found cheap online—and you filled him in on Yelena’s plan to experiment with spicy recipes. Every so often, he’d nudge your shoulder or lean in to press a quick kiss to your temple, as if he couldn’t go too long without touching you.

Eventually, you ducked into a small corner café that you both loved. You ordered dessert first, justifying it with a laugh: “Life’s too short not to have cake for dinner.” Bucky agreed wholeheartedly, paying for your order and guiding you to a cozy table by the window.

Once seated, he studied you from across the table, fingers drumming idly on the surface. “So,” he said, “am I forgiven for earlier?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t know. You did cause me a lot of embarrassment in front of Yelena.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling. “Try it and see.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice that made your heart flutter. “For distracting you while you were on the phone.”

Your smile widened. “And?"

He reached across the table to take your hand. “And for enjoying it so much.”

You squeezed his hand, unable to keep the fondness out of your eyes. “Apology accepted, menace.”

The café door chimed, and a few more customers wandered in. You sipped your drink, relaxing in the warm atmosphere. Bucky kept your hand in his, occasionally rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

When your cake arrived, you split it, laughing as he stole the larger piece. He offered you a bite from his fork in apology, and you leaned forward, letting him feed you.

“Good?” he asked, eyes bright.

“Delicious,” you managed, savoring the sweetness.

He watched you with open admiration. “I like seeing you happy,” he repeated again, his voice softer now.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’m happy because I’m with you.”

He held your gaze, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. You saw the man beneath the mischief—the one who cared so deeply, who’d learned to laugh again despite the shadows of his past.

“You know,” he said, clearing his throat, “I never thought I’d have this. Someone to tease, someone who gives it right back. Someone whom i could becso free with.”

Your heart clenched with affection. “And now you do.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “Now I do.”

When you finally left the café, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in dusky blues and pinks. Bucky’s arm looped around your waist as you headed home, the city lights flickering on around you.

You strolled in comfortable silence until you reached your apartment. Once inside, you both kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the couch. He settled in first, patting the cushion beside him in invitation.

“Come here,” he said, and you sank down, letting him pull you into his side.

He grabbed the remote, but instead of changing the broadcast, he clicked it off. The apartment went quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic through the window. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady breath.

After a moment, he turned to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For this. For us.”

You smiled into his shirt. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

He tilted your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “I want to,” he said, and the quiet sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten with emotion.

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Well, you’re welcome, then.”

He bent down, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise—of laughter, of mischief, of all the little moments that made up a life together. You let yourself sink into it, letting the warmth of his body and the softness of his mouth fill your senses.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless. He smoothed a hand over your hair, cradling you against him. “We should do something fun tomorrow,” he said. “Before you go help Yelena with her spicy pickles.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer. “Sure. But only if you behave the next time I’m on the phone.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ll do my best, doll.” You didn’t quite believe him—but then again, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the end, Bucky was a whirlwind of affection and playfulness, and though you sometimes pretended to protest, you secretly relished every teasing moment. Because beneath the jokes and the stolen kisses, there was a profound sense of belonging that tied you together.

As the evening came by, you drifted off in his arms, content and warm. The memory of his soft laughter echoed in your mind, reminding you that even when he was a menace, he was yours—and you were his. And that was all that mattered.

[science-hoes]

Guilty Pleasure

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+, arm riding, biting, deepthroating fingers, language, filth, the worms in my brain told me to write this

Jack Abbot Masterlist 💕

——

Your boyfriend stared at you, mouth agape at your request. His arms were crossed over his chest, forearms flexing as he unconsciously clenched and unclenched his fists. The low glow of the lamp in his bedroom was the only reason he could see that you were actually serious. “You…what?“ He questioned.

Usually, you knew better than to avoid Jack’s gaze. But after a 12 hour shift, finally in the comfort of his home in the early morning, you unashamedly stared at your guilty pleasure. Freckled muscles threatening to bust through the fabric of his well-fitted black t-shirt. But who could blame you?

Every shift, you had to stare at those arms. Fuck, they stared at you. They were so big, they could have their own zip code. And they distracted you. The way Jack worked diligently with his hands on a patient, tendons of his forearms rolling with each flexion. The way his arms corded with bulging veins after helping move a patient or heavy equipment. The way his beefy hands guided yours during a procedure, making yours look dainty and frail. It sure made it difficult to concentrate during the pre-shift huddle, the way your boyfriend loved to move his hands as he spoke, flashing those gorgeous arms in all their glory.

“I want to bite your arms.” You repeated for him.

Jack looked down to his arms, trying to figure out what the fuck you were seeing. “You know, I’m into whatever you want, love. But cannibalism?” He teased, flicking his whiskey eyes up to you, craning his neck like a turtle, that silly move he does when he’s questioning someone.

You rolled your eyes, closing the distance between you. You unwound his arms and massaged one of his aching wrists. “Oh, please. I don’t want Kuru.” You joked.

Jack shook his head, but smiled nonetheless. “Good girl. You’ll ace that board exam if they ever ask about spongiform encephalopathies.” He continued to mock.

You jabbed him in the sides with wiggling fingers, and he laughed. “Don’t change the subject. I want your arms.” You redirected.

Jack just continued to stare at you with bewildered amusement. “Why do you like my arms?” He questioned.

You shrugged, manhandling the arm you held, examining it like an ancient artifact. Your hands dwarfed in comparison to his engorged muscles. “They’re so sexy. They’re so���big.”

He huffed a laugh. “So? Your boobs are big, and I don’t wanna…” He trailed off as he recalled the previous night and how long he spent suckling at your breasts. “Oh, I guess I get it.” He conceded.

You smirked, kneading your fingertips into his bicep. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Jack was about to come up with another witty response, but you pushed him back toward the bed, making quick work of removing his black t-shirt. The dominance that he allowed you to hold in that moment made him chuckle. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, letting you stand in between them. His fingers slid under your scrub top, ghosting over the skin of your waist.

“You want something, doll?” His voice was graveled with sleep but there was a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

You pulled your scrub top over your head, tossing it over to where his shirt ended up. “Can I ride your arms?” You asked.

Jack’s lip twitched, the foreign request sending a chill through his body. “What?”

You pulled the drawstring of your scrub pants and let them pool at your ankles, stepping out of them. “Can I ride your arms?” You repeated, firmly this time.

He still wouldn’t let up, and his lip began to deepen at the sides, dimples morphing onto his face. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

You narrowed your eyes, but they were no match for his steadfast stare that bore through you with desire. “Can I drag my pussy across your fucking massive arms?” You gritted through clenched teeth, blushing at the vulgar words leaving your mouth.

A low rumble left his chest as he began to lean back on the bed. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He praised. “All yours, kid. Have at it.”

You crawled onto the bed, perching beside him on your knees, and lowering your head to his arm. You pressed a single, innocent kiss against the freckles of his bicep, and you could’ve sworn those freckles kissed you back as his muscles pulsed underneath your chapped lips. Your mouth began to open more as you moved along his bicep, trailblazing down to his forearm, tongue dragging in tow.

Jack studied the way you worshiped his limb, curiosity peaking when your teeth began to graze against his flesh with your kisses. The first sensation of your hardened enamel sent a jolt of electricity through his entire arm causing his shoulder to spasm. You flicked your eyes up to him and smirked.

“You like that, huh?” You purred against his skin.

The muscles in his neck strained as he swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, kid.” He muttered, reaching a hand to his crotch to palm away some new pressure. “But it ain’t bad.”

You smirked and continued your expedition. The sun-worn skin against your tongue and teeth stretched just slightly as you licked a stripe down his forearm, from elbow crease to wrist. A shudder escaped his nose, and he bit the inside of his cheek to maintain his composure. As you worked your way up again with sloppy kisses, you opened your eyes just enough to see the indent of the long and short head bicep muscles. You dragged your tongue to massage the just-noticeable valley, mouth watering far too much. Your drool dripped down his upper arm, down to his elbow.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack mumbled, eyes riveted on your mouth. “Getting what you need, baby girl?”

His voice was sweet but too condescending. In retaliation, you bit down hard on the chunk of muscle, digging your teeth into his flesh. Not enough to break skin, but enough to satisfy your primal appetite. Jack let out a startled but aroused groan at the sensation. The muscles flexed in your jaws, writhing under your tongue. You sucked on the skin, a last attempt to leave a mark, before releasing his arm from your mouth.

Teeth marks indented in his bicep, claiming it as yours as the area surrounding it began to swell into a warm magenta. You admired your work and pressed a soothing kiss against your mark.

“You like marking me up?” Jack mumbled through dazed eyes. “Want people to know I belong to someone?”

You smirked before taking another chomp at his muscles, this time on the forearm. You sucked greedily at the cephalic vein that was permanently visible through his skin, always taunting you when he wore short sleeves. Your tongue lapped at the skin that grew saltier by the second with sweat, indulging in the savory taste.

“If you leave too many bruises, people will ask questions.” He warned, still palming himself through his scrub bottoms. “And I promise, I will mark you tenfold what you leave on me.”

You just hummed in acknowledgement to his threat before releasing the patch of skin, secretly hoping that he would hold true to that promise. The blotch grew darker as it adjusted to open air again, and you smiled with content. But then something caught your eye. The way his fingers twitched slightly, curling down to his palm as his arm rested on the bed. Those fingers spent a lot of time in your pussy, but not enough time in your mouth. That needed to be fixed.

You delicately grasped his wrist, lifting his hand. His fingers brushed against your cupid’s bow, tracing the outline. You met his eyes, and without breaking contact, you swallowed his meaty index finger. Jack let out a vulgar groan as he felt the smooth back of your throat against his fingerprint. You held him there for a moment until your gag reflex forced you to withdraw.

“Oh, fuuuuck.” He hissed, brow furrowed in bliss. “You know, you’re gonna-“

You cut him off by shoving his index and middle finger down your throat this time, somehow going deeper than before. His voice cracked as your pharynx constricted around his fingers. A wet gag forced them out of your mouth again, freeing your airway. A strand of beaded saliva connected your mouth to his hand as he reluctantly pulled away.

Jack wanted to fuck you senseless in that moment. Being such a good girl for him, taking his fingers so deep, face flushed and eyes watering. But he knew what you wanted, what you had asked so nicely for. So he extended his right arm away from his upper body.

“Wanna take a ride, baby doll?” His face was smug, mouth pulling to one side to show off his adorable grin.

You smirked in response. “What’s that saying? Save a horse, ride an ER cowboy?” You teased.

Jack chuckled, stretching his arm further to you. “Saddle up, cowgirl.”

You hovered above his forearm, the heat of his skin matching the radiation from your pussy. Your thighs trembled as you lowered closer and closer and closer.

Until Jack let out an unexpected groan as your juices melted against his skin. “So wet for me?” He sputtered. “Just for my arms, baby girl?”

You were a little embarrassed at his questioning, but you couldn’t help the euphoria speeding through your neurons. Every vein against your clit was electric. You placed a balancing hand on his broad chest, stabilizing yourself to slide up and down his arm.

“If you answer me, I’ll make it even better. I promise.” The look in his eyes was unrecognizable. Almost possessed.

You couldn’t look away from his powerful gaze, mainly because you knew if you did, he would force your jaw with his hand to meet his eyes. “Just for your arms.” You finally whispered.

“I can’t hear you.” He nearly growled.

You whimpered as you slid against him. “Just for your arms.” You verified, much louder this time.

He smiled with satisfaction. “That’s my girl.” He cooed.

Then he flexed his forearm under you, rippling the muscles and veins against your pussy. Just like he was pumping his arm before giving blood. Your eyes rolled back as you continued to grind against him.

“Oh, fuck, Jack.” You moaned.

Your vaginal lips smeared across the unholy marks you had left just a few minutes before. Jack placed his free hand on your thigh, guiding you ever so gently.

“Yeah? That feel good, baby doll?” He whispered.

He began to slide his arm in the opposite direction of your thrusts, enhancing the friction. The muscles and veins that nearly popped out of his skin were teasing your clit in a way that drove you mad. You whimpered as you dug your hips deeper, chasing your orgasm with every lewd squelch of your pussy.

“Feels so good.” You panted.

The familiar warmness in your belly began to creep lower and lower as you rode. Your thighs shook violently as you struggled to maintain balance as your climax neared. Jack chuckled and placed a strong hand on your shoulder to stabilize you.

“Oh, you’re so close, sweet girl. Take a break. I’ll get you there.” He said, voice laced with fake pity.

You finally stopped moving your hips, legs shaking as you came to a halt. And just like he promised, Jack continued move his arm underneath you, faster than he had before. You scratched at his chest with the hand that rested there as he set a bruising pace. Your clit swelled at the rapid brush of his worn, leathered skin, and it became too much. Your thighs clenched around his arm like a vice as you rocked into your orgasm, screaming his name as you did.

“There you go. Keep coming for me.” Jack coached you on.

Your pussy throbbed against him, slathering your juices on his freckled skin. When you finally collapsed on top of him, freeing his arm for the first time, he held it up to inspect it. Your slick honey dribbling over the veins down to his elbow, crossing over the bruise and bite mark you had left on his forearm.

He chuckled to himself. “Look at that mess you made.” He mumbled against your head. “All for my arms, huh?”

You hummed in agreement, still dazed by your release. “Told you they’re hot.” You breathed against his chest.

Jack wrapped his clean arm around you securely as you reeled from your high. He admired the way your juices glistened on his skin in the low light of the bedroom, how they glossed over his freckles.

“Why didn’t you just ask me sooner?” He questioned.

You shrugged, face still buried in his chest. “I was worried you’d be too…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Too…?”

You smirked slightly. “Too old fashioned.”

“Old fashioned.” Jack repeated, a smile on his lips. “What makes you think that?”

You rubbed circles onto his chest with your thumb, feeling pulled closer and closer to sleep. “I dunno.” You mumbled.

“Because I’m old?” He deadpanned.

You giggled and looked up to him. “You said it, not me.”

Jack chuckled, the warm vibrations rumbling through his chest and to your ear pressed against it. He lifted a finger underneath your chin to maintain your gaze and leaned down to kiss you gently. “After we get some sleep, you're gonna be apologizing for that little ‘old-fashioned’ comment for hours.”

—

A/N: I’m sorry this was shorter than my usual fics but I needed to have this written so the worms would stop talking to me 🐛

[qrcodeprofiles]

Revolutionizing Data Management with Baelsys QR Code Pro

Learn how QR codes are transforming the way businesses store, track, and access data efficiently and securely. Discover the benefits and applications of Baelsys QR Code Pro in this comprehensive guide. Read now.

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!