#but i could get my ass over to america for it too

[wawek]

I never liked to travel and i dont have much drive to see new places, like the pictures are ok with me for the most part. But if i had a way to travel id do it for food. Like if i was a dnd character and i had to have a motivation to go adventuring itd be trying different foods... it blows my mind how many ingredients ill never get to try

[doubletrucks]

back on my talking in the tags bullshit like it's 2015 🫡

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{next}

face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

Pairing; Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings; smut, dark themes, non con, breeding kink, oral- both receiving, degrading, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, huge daddy kink, choking- to the point reader can’t breathe, dumbification, dacryphillia, spanking, steve is very dark in this, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!

Summary; Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, the man everybody loved, his soul soft, standing against all evils. Until he got a taste of that sweet power. He became hungry. Now, you have no choice but to obey his rules. Can you bring him back to the light? Or is it too late? (it’s definitely too late)

here we have my first ever full fic! firstly i would like to give a huge thankyou to @dbnightingale24 for giving me the confidence and tips to write this! and another big thankyou to @evansbby and @hansensgirl for inspiring me in the first place for begin writing💘it’s around 3k words and i really put my all into this so please don’t forget to comment and reblog, i would love to hear all of your feedback!🫶🏻 much love, cherry.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

Steve Rogers, the man everyone respected, the man everyone believed in, looked up too. The man you used to cherish, his sweet boyish nature drawing you in from the moment you met. His pearly blues that used to soften as they fell on you, his gentle touch as he caressed your hair, the tender, loving kisses he used to leave all over your body.

Until Fury resigned that was.

Steve was officially the new director of shield, to which nobody opposed, i mean, who would right? He was Captain America, the man out of time. He was perfcet for the role. Strong willed, commanding yet understanding, he had respect for those beneath him and most of all he was compassionate, something that was hard to find in a good leader. This didn't last for long, of course.

Steve shortly became power hungry, his morals became more sick and twisted as his methods became more sadistic. He was violent, cruel…volatile. There was no bringing back Steve Rogers. The problem was he dragged everybody else down with him, nobody dared to stand up to Steve, too frightened of the consequences.

Tony couldn't talk Steve down, he tried for a while, attempted to reach out to him, guide him back to the light...but nothing worked. Tony couldn't do it, nor could you, not even his best friend of over a decade could sway his newfound mindset. You all figured it was best to keep your heads down from now on and follow Steves orders, no matter how out of line they seemed.

Not that you had a choice anyway.

Bucky was short to follow in his footsteps as his second in command. Both cruel and unforgiving. Your friendship with Bucky was practically non-exhistant, you no longer had movie nights together, giggling with big buckets of popcorn.

A simple nod of his head as he passed you down the hall was about as much as you would get. Steve wouldn't allow it now anyway.

Steve's display of affection changed alongside him, the love he made was no longer passionate, or gentle. In fact, he didn’t make love at all anymore… what he made was simply rough, hard, fucking.

The marks he left behind were no longer loving hickeys while he whispered in your ear, moaning sweet nothings as he gently thrusted his hips into your own. His eyes, gleaming with nothing but pure devotion.

They were bruises... bruises from how hard his hips slammed into your ass from behind, his grip tight on your hair, pulling and tugging as your skin became flustered at the impact of his thrusts. You missed the man he was. You often thought about that life while his cock was busy destroying your cunt. He didn’t care about your pleasure anymore, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck.

From a distance you could hear Steves heavy boots storming down the coridoor. The sound was instantly unsettling. Your body recognising the noise as a trigger for an oncoming threat, sending you into alert mode.

You stood from your office chair on shaky legs, your posture rigid as he turned the corner to enter. His 6'4, stoic figure coming into view, casting a shadow that filled the room. His broad shoulders spread wide, his presence making your tummy tighten with unease.

He said nothing as he stared down at you, your fingers tugging at your short pink skirt- which he had chosen out for you this morning, the same way he customised your figure every morning. Claiming your dumb, baby brain was incapable of choosing an outfit that proved elegance and professionalism. In reality it was the complete opposite.

He liked to dress you in short skirts, ones that left little to the imagination, your asscheeks peeking out most days and revealing blouses, your tits practically spilling out of your shirts. You were highly sought after by the males at the compound before he came and scooped you up a few years ago.

They knew you were his, i mean he was your boyfriend for several years, you were what the female agents used to coo at, naming you as "couple goals". Where Steve went, you went, and vice versa. You were always seen smiling and giggling together, tag teaming on missons and holding hands as you explored the compound.

But, as steves power grew so did his insecurity. His possesive nature grew strong, wanting, no, needing to show other men you belonged to him, and only him. And you always would, whether you liked it or not.

"Get on your knees."

"Wh-What?"

"Get on your knees. You know i don't like to repeat myself." he growls while pushing your office door closed with one arm from behind, not daring to take his eyes of you.

You gulped as he stepped forward, caging you inbetween his thick biceps as you lean against your desk. One thing he was always good at was making you feel small. Even before all of this. Of course it wasn't anywhere near as threatening as it was now. He used to joke about how tiny you were compared to him, how he could pick you up with one hand, it was cute how big and protective he was of you.

Now, he used it to his advantage. He knew you feared him. He knew that you knew, you would never be able to run from him. He would overpower you every damn time with his brute strength.

There was no running from Steve Rogers. His thick beard scraped against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine as he groaned into your neck, your scent driving him wild.

He whispered darkly in your ear "Final chance. Get on your knees. Now, or you won't like what'll happen if you refuse me again."

You inhaled sharply, goosebumps spreading across your body in pure fear, or ecstacy. It was hard to tell these days. Steve had conditioned you so well to his own liking that even your body reacted to him in ways you would never fully understand. Or so he says.

Slowly you inched down towards the floor with your knees bent. The cold, rough flooring instantly proving to be uncomfortable as you figited. But Steve didn't care about that, why would he? His thick hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyelids.

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, he then pushes further, massaging your tongue as saliva begins to pool in your mouth. Removing his thumb slowly, he tugged on your bottom lip with pinched fingers. Before you even realised what was happening he shoves two fingers down your throat.

You sputter and gag around his thick digits, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the hard floor. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain as tears began rolling down your flustered cheeks.

His other hand is quick to grip your hair, tugging harshly. "You fuckin' look at me while daddy gags you with his fingers. Actin' like you don't get off on this shit. You love it. Say 'thankyou daddy'." he mocks with a high pitched tone.

Desperately trying to get the words out, you mumble around his fingers, seeming incoherent. He laughs darkly at your poor attempt, shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, gagging you one last time before pulling out.

"You gonna' be a good whore n' suck my dick? Huh? You fuckin' slut." His hand reaches down, pulling your shirt to the side, making your tits spill out. You hear him let out a loud groan, his pants tightening at the sight of your bare chest. He pinches your hard nipple roughly, rolling it roughly inbetween his index finger and thumb as you cry out, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

He shushes your cries gently as he begins to massage the same spot he previously assaulted making you keen with pleasure.

He had a thing for associating pain with pleasure, confusing your silly little brain into thinking the hurt he put you through was a good thing since pleasure soon followed. That he was rewarding you.

"Unzip me. Cmon' you dumb baby, take daddys fat cock out."

Listening to your own heartbeat in your ears, your head pounding with adrenaline, your fingers itch towards his pants. Which was apparently too slow for his liking as his grip on your hair tightens, making you sqeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them, not wanting to anger him further.

You hurridly unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It's angry head pointing towards you as he grips the base with his other hand, slowing pumping his shaft over your face.

He pushes his bulbous tip into your closed lips, smearing his hot precum all over them. When you refuse to open your mouth he growls, pinching your nostrils closed. Feeling the air begin to leave your lungs, you gasp for breath and he's quick to shove his dick down your throat.

Gagging at the intrusion you cry harder, your lips stretching to fit around his thick length. his hips thrusting into your face as he fucks your throat harshly.

"That's it, you whore. Take daddys dick all the way down your throat. You fuckin' remember this the next time you try to refuse me."

His hand which was previously tugging at your hair moves towards your throat, holding you in a tight grip.

"Fuck... i can feel my fuckin' cock in that tiny throat of yours. Love it when you cry f' me, just makes me want to fuck you even harder, sweet girl." he grunts loudly over the sound of your gagging. Steve swiftly pulls his dick out as you keel over, coughing and sputtering, your throat sore from his brutal assault.

Before you even have a chance to gain your breath, his thick hands grip your shoulders, pulling you upright, bending you over your desk. Your legs shaking as he positions you so your ass is sticking out.

Lowering himself to the ground, he grips the flesh of your ass, squeezing roughly as he lifts up your skirt, briskly pulling your panties to the side. He shoves his nose into your pussy, groaning in delight at your sweet scent.

"Fuck i could live inbetween these slutty legs, your cunt's always ready for daddy, huh? Trained you so well." Your sticky juices smeared across your legs, dripping with desire, his facial hair bristling against your thighs making you squirm.

He mercilessly pushes his tongue as deep as it can go into your hole. You whimper as he laps up your wetness, his tongue prodding at your insides. Your arousal soaking his beard while your pussy clenched around his tongue. He pulls away for a moment, “God, how do you taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans.

Reaching back to grip his hair in your small fists, you go to push his face back into your cunt, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. His hand grips your wrist tightly, pining your arm to the desk, a sure reminder of who's in charge, seeming as you had forgotten your place. “Stay fuckin’ still or i’ll stop. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”

You moan lewdly as he moves to latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Groaning into your pussy as he fists his cock.

Your eyes begin to roll back as your orgasm itches closer. Steve, realising this, pulls away once again. Your juices stringing from your clit to his lips as you cry out, your orgasm beginning to fade.

"Stop with the fuckin' whining. Daddy's gonna' fuck you now. Tell daddy how much you want his cock...Cmon. No need to act all innocent now." he pressures at your hesitation.

"P-Please daddy wan' you to fuck me."

"You can do better than that." Steve husks, giving your ass a harsh smack from behind, knowing your skin will blister from his force.

Your lips quiver as you cry, "Please! N-Need your cock inside me so badly, wan' you to destroy me for anybody else. Wanna' feel you in my cervix daddy, Jus' wanna make you feel good. Love how full you make me feel. Please...I-I'll die if you don't fuck me. Pretty pretty ple-."

and before you can finish your sentence your cut off by your own scream, his cock dissapearing inbetween your folds as he bottoms out with a singular thrust. Your legs become slack as your body spasms at the intrustion, his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as you squirm, instinctively trying to escape his hold.

"F-Fuck, Y-Your so big daddy. It hurts so bad, p-pull out!"

"Shut up." he groans as his thick hand covers your mouth from behind. “Gonna fuckin’ dog fuck you til you can’t think of anything but this fat fuckin’ cock you dirty little slut, you hear me?” he practically growls as he begins to fuck you.

The sound of clapping skin begins to fill the room, agents around the compound sure to hear the way his dick bruitalises your cunt.

"Such a filthy girl i have, always so desperate for daddy to fuck you, even when you try and deny it, i know this sweet pussy would never lie to me." He coos in your ear as you sob, your face wet with tears and saliva.

"My messy whore, see what happens when you don't listen to me? You see what a mess you become? Fuck. You look so pretty like this, this is how you should always be, filled to the brim with my fat dick.”

Steve had always loved fucking you braindead, watching as your eyes glaze over and your tongue begins to hang out of your mouth, drooling all over yourself. It made him feel powerful, like you were dependent on him. Which you were in a sense, always so needy and desperate for him to fuck you.

The impact of his animalistic thrusts turn your skin raw as he speeds up. His arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to him as he spreads his legs further apart, hitting a new angle inside your pussy. You let out a loud wanton moan as his balls slap against your clit.

“F-Fuck yes! H-Harder daddy.”

“Yeah? You like that? I know you do, it’s okay. Is my little girls brain goin’ fuzzy? Huh? Poor girl.” Steve mocked, amusement clear in his tone. "M' gonna' cum. Daddy please can i cum?" you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening, a warning that your orgasm was near.

"Yeah baby? You gonna' cum for me you dirty whore? Go ahead, cum all over my dick. Can feel you clenching around me, grippin' me like a fuckin' vice."

Your cream coats his length as you let out a muffled cry, biting your lip harshly as you cum.

"T-Thankyou daddy. Feels s-so good..." you babble, your thick cream creating a ring around the base of his cock. Your weight giving out once again as Steve holds you, smirking as he watches you come undone, giving you no escape from his relentless thrusts.

His thick shaft pummeling your insides as you scream with ecstacy, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.

"F-Fuck look at that... love watching your cream leak around my cock, taking this dick so good for me. Gonna' cum inside you...yeah? You want daddy to fill you up?" he groans as his own orgasm nears, talking himself through it.

"God, this cunt treats me like a fuckin' king. It's coming baby, daddys gonna cum, Oh fuck fuckkk." his hips twitch and his balls throb as his load begins to fill you, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Moaning at the sensation of his warmth inside you.

“Take my fuckin’ cum. That’s it, good girl. Love watchin’ your pussy swallow my hot fuckin load, bet you love it too, hm? You slut.” he pants, exhausted from the brutal fucking he just gave you.

He snaps out of it almost instantly, pulling out without warning and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

Giving your ass a harsh smack, he steps back. You turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over. He stares at the ground with no emotion as he combs his locks with his fingers, making himself seem presentable.

Hope fills you, your heart races as you lick your lips in anticipation, wondering if he will stay to comfort you and hold you the way he used to many months ago.

But he doesn't. You get nothing but a short glance as he turns to exit your office, slamming the door shut on his way out. You slump down against the floor, a complete mess.

Your soft cries turn to sobs, breathing rapidly, your hands gripping your hair as you raise your knees to your chest. It was almost as if he had you in a trance when he was burried inside your cunt, as soon as he was done it was like the fog in your brain had cleared.

People told you there was no bringing the old Steve back, that your sweet, caring boyfriend was gone. Replaced by a monster.

You didn't want to believe them... but maybe you should've.

[auroralwriting]

second chances

bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n, next-door-neighbor trope!)

you once came face-to-face with the winter soldier, will bucky barnes be any different?

word count: 1.6k. | no warnings

The Winter Soldier's face was etched into your mind since the day you'd seen him. It was one of those average days in New York, you'd just gone out for some shopping. Sometimes Avenger sightings were normal, but seeing Captain America in full sprint was a sure fire sign something was amiss. That was when the shooting began.

You were quick to move people, ducking them under tables, shooing them further up the street, making them take corners to evade the flying bullets. It was just an instinct, there were too many people who could get hurt.

Then, you saw him.

His face was covered by a mask, but that arm, his left arm! It was completely metal. That was one of the features you burned into your brain, along with his hair color, skin color, height. The pure adrenaline and fear had pushed you to stop, freeze in place, and memorize the man.

It was then you were ushered to move by the man you found out was The Falcon. You were safe, but the smoke, the bullets, the explosions, it was all muted and dull compared to The Winter Soldier.

Years had gone by, you'd been a victim to what they called The Blip. Five whole years had forced you to relocate to Brooklyn, some cheap ass apartment building you were sure was haunted. You'd been living there for five months, got some furniture, meet the neighbors, it was a place content with being home. The one aspect that kept you up was the empty apartment next to you. It had been rotting since you moved in, you wondered who would fill its void, make the place a home once more.

It didn't take more than those five months for your answer to appear. It was grocery day, a list in your pocket and your wallet in hand, you'd just stepped out the door. Turning around, there he was.

It had been so many years since that fateful day, but you knew that stance, the hair color, height, everything about him. Through a peek in his jacket, you saw the hint of metal.

It was obvious he knew what you were thinking. The way your breath was heavy, eyes widened, there was no way he didn't know exactly what was rushing though your mind. He opened his mouth, but you rushed down the hall before he could say anything. The elevator ride down was when it hit you; he was your neighbor.

It had taken a week and a half for Bucky to gather the courage to face you. That look in your eyes was pure fear, he knew it all too well. He'd checked his list a hundred times, but your name wasn't on it. Okay, maybe he'd done some light digging into you, just a quick ask of some of the neighbors and he learned your name. He'd never hurt you, but that also didn't mean you'd never encountered him, either.

White fur of his cat, Alpine, brushed between his legs. The cat stared at Bucky, giving a soft meow. Bucky sighed, scratching between her ears. "I know, girl." He sighed, "I just need to get it over with."

The walk to your next-door apartment felt like it took ages. Bucky felt himself ridden with guilt when he softly tapped his knuckles on the door.

With the chain lock still in place, the door was opened a crack. "What do you want?" Your voice came out quickly, but it was laced with fear.

"I just.. wanna say hi to my new neighbor?" Bucky hesitated. That wasn't what he had planned on saying.

The door closed, and Bucky almost turned away when he heard the familiar sound of the chain dropping. The door opened and you slipped your way through. "You want to say hi?" Your asked in disbelief.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh arm. "Uh, yes. And, uh, apologize. I know- I know you know who I am, was. And uh, I'm not that guy anymore. It's really complicated-"

"I have time," Your response took him back. You were looking at him expectantly, your door now pushed wide open. "Are you gonna come in?"

Bucky's story was unlike any you'd ever heard. He spoke in such detail, starting from the forties to now. You'd given him some water, a soda for yourself as you sat on your couch, listening to his whole story. By the end, you felt such sympathy for the guy. He even went as far as to show you his little book (it broke your heart even more when you were told it was Steve's), amends he needed to make, movies and music he needed to see. There was a lot more to him than you expected. Much to both of your surprises, a friendship had blossomed that very day.

From that moment on, anytime Bucky would leave to go cross another name off his list, Alpine would stay at your place. You kept her company, fed her, gave her water, loved on her. Then, sometimes you found yourself missing her, so, naturally, you began going 'round Bucky's to play with her while he was home. Eventually, he began to stay around you both, watching tv or making dinner for the three of you.

Sooner or later, you had clothes at Bucky's apartment, and he kept som at yours, too. It was just friendly, of course. You just spent so much time together that it was natural to keep some belongings at each other's places.

The real change was the night you heard the loudest knocking, no, pounding, you'd ever heard on your door. The adrenaline left you jumping out of bed to go see what was happening. Throwing open the door, a disheveled, sweaty, and tearful Bucky stood, chest heaving as his hands gently grasped your face. His eyes met yours, scanning all over your face as you softly shushed him. You lead him into your apartment and laid him down in your bed. You sat next to him until he fell back asleep. He'd told you his nightmares were bad, but never this bad. It left you feeling guilty leaving him all alone in a bed he'd never been in. So, you slipped under the sheets next to him, just so he would feel a sense of comfort when he woke up.

Then that became the new normal for a few weeks. Anytime Bucky would have a nightmare, he'd slip into your bed with the key you'd given him after the second jumpscare of his fists colliding with your door.

The biggest change in your odd friendship was the night Bucky showed up at ten, before either of you had gone to sleep.

"Bucky?" You called from your spot on the couch, watching as he walked in, clad in his pajama pants and loose, grey tee-shirt. He didn't look panicked yet, you were confused why he was here so late, yet so early.

The soldier gave you a small smile, "Hi," You watched as he fumbled with his fingers, "I was wondering if I could stay? Didn't feel right bein' alone tonight." And so he stayed.

That's when the new habit began. Occasional nightmare-induced sleepovers turned into spending every night together, slowly merging to his apartment, too. You'd bring a book or your phone as Bucky would watch whatever was on tv quietly, sometimes he'd read too. Spending the night together became the new normal, you didn't know how you'd gone so far in your life without being with him like this.

Like what, though?

I mean, sure, you slept over together, he'd cook you both meals, you basically shared custody of his cat, shared apartments. But.. what? That wasn't something just friends did, but you'd never gone as far as to do anything people who were more than friends did either. So, you avoided him for approximately three days before Bucky had you cornered.

"Doll, where've you been?" Bucky asked. You could see it in his eyes, the hurt. "Been missin' you. I haven't seen you 'round, lately."

You gave him a small shrug, "Just been busy, Bucky." you answered.

Bucky knew your schedule like the back of his hand. In fact, he probably knew it better than his own. Unless something sudden or serious came up, there was no way you'd been that busy, unless..

"Why are you avoiding me?" The soldier questioned. "And don't lie to me, either. I know when you're lying."

The nerves crept up your spine as your mind raced through different answers to give him. "I've just been busy helping my aunt."

Bucky's eyebrow shot up, "Your aunt?"

"Yeah, my aunt."

"Which aunt?" Bucky questioned further, prying into your lie.

You felt your heart race, "My Aunt Leah,"

"The one who lives in Kentucky?" Bucky's face clearly showed he was not buying it.

"What are we, Buck?" You suddenly asked, feeling overwhelmed by his questions and your lie.

Bucky's face morphed into one of surprise, "What?" What did you mean, 'What are we?' You were his best friend, his everything. Wait, his everything? Bucky felt hopelessly stupid when he realized he'd never even acknowledged the fact that he could even like you.

"We sure as hell aren't just friends," You continued, "And I know for a fact that best friends don't sleep over every night, or eat every meal together, go shopping, watch movies," Your rant continued as you grilled into Bucky. "And I don't think I can keep going unless I'm yours,"

Your words had Bucky breathless, "Doll, 'course you're mine." Like a twist of fate, his words now held you breathless as you stared at the man, wide eyed. "I'm the stupid one, I should've made my intentions more clear from when I first started feeling more."

With a shake of your head, you gave Bucky a small smile, "You're not stupid, Buck."

"You wanna go get dinner tonight?" Bucky asked, "Officially as my girl, my treat."

A smile gleamed on your face, "I'd love nothing more."

[marksbear2]

Hiii Papa!! I love your writing and so happy that you came back. And I hope your enjoying America!!

Im requesting Homelander x Male reader. And can it be headcanons? And also smut? I really love your spicy fics. Thank youuu

HOMELANDER X MALE READER

Hello, thank you for requesting!! I’m glad you like my writing and yes I’m having a great time in America so far. There’s not enough Homelander x reader so I’m happy to write for my man.

⚠️Warnings!!- Asshole homelander, humiliation kink, dirty talk, mentions blackmail, public, blow job, mirror, and etc. ⚠️

— You was the first ever man he ever don’t it with. He was a bit awkward but still had his cocky and brave persona. 

— He tried to top you for the first few times. He refused to let you even touch his hole. So you just let him top you until you got bored of it and decided to fuck him instead.

— Your his guilty pleasure, he hates the fact how he submitted his body to you. Not without a fight though, he wasn’t just going to let you fuck him. You had to work for it. 

— Homelander was devastated for days whenever you fucked him. He didn’t know how to act, he couldn’t believe he just handed over his ass to another man…the worst part of all to him was the fact that he enjoyed it.

— Homelander prefers taking it from behind so he doesn’t have to face you and you don’t have to see his face or anything. He always tell himself it’s a one time thing and will never happen again. 

— He swears that he hates you and your cock. He knew he was doomed that whenever he tried jerking off he couldn’t get hard at the thought of a woman or seeing a girl naked. But whenever he thought of you he got hard as an rock. 

— He refused to be kissed by you, he  struggle and avoid getting any sort of affection from you if it wasn’t strictly sexual.

— He likes taking it rough, he began to love and crave the feeling of your dick stretching his hole out and fucking him merciless. 

— He tells you not too pull or tug his hair whenever you two are fucking but doesn’t even protest when you do it. He loves it in fact. Forcing his head back and forcing him to look at you.

— He started to do good on missions and public interviews, so you could fuck him as an good job. He even began to look forward to coming over your house and even more secretly happy to be under you.

— You move his cape to the side and pull down the pants of his hero suit to fuck him right there and then. Numerous times you two fucked in the empty large office of the seven. 

— Whenever your fucking him senseless, his heat vision sometimes almost activates. His eyes glowing red as he is taking the hard pounding. He would let out moans and groans. Homelander mouth would hang open like some dog.

— He’s really bad at giving head. You’ll have to guide and talk him through it. His wet eyes slobbering all over your cock.

— People notice how he sometimes has an limp and the seven and other workers in Vought notice how he’s much more tame and has better manners then before. 

— Fucking him in front of a mirror and forcing him to watch himself getting fucked. You mocked and teased him about he’s supposed to be america’s hero and the only man in the sky the undefeated homelander enjoying having another man’s dick inside him. 

— Recording and taking pictures of him during sex turns him on. You talking about potentially blackmailing him in the future. His reputation in your hands. He doesn’t even try to cover his face or anything during the videos. Often laughed and moaned looking dead into the camera.

— Enjoys being your cumdump. He would sit on the floor or lay on the bed covered in your cum, as he beg and whine for more with his own cock in between his legs being hard as a rock.

— He would sometimes be incredibly covered in blood head to toe and the only thing he wants to do is to suck your cock. 

— He came in his hero suit before, you were mocking and taunting him calling him all sorts of things while tugging his hair and pushing him around. He doesn’t last long whenever your dirty talking to him. He can’t handle those words.

 — He’s truly pathetic for you. He would get on his knees and hump your legs while looking up at you begging you to fuck him. He would rub his boner against your legs and such. He would whine and grumble and began to imply that he will kill people if you don’t give in to his needs right now. 

— He sucks onto your nipples. He would grope and fondle with your pecs sucking your nipples and pinch and tug onto them. 

— The first time he came untouched and hands free from your cock inside him. He broke. 

— It made him realized that he only wanted you and only you. He frequently begged and asked more longer rounds and such. He would be bent over with his hands over his head shooting his white streaks of cum while you drive your cock inside him.

— You two fucking in empty alleyways in the middle of the day. 

— He would have random wet dreams about you, and also day dream about you fucking him during random times. He could be spacing out thinking about you jerking off his cock and dirty talking to him.

— You pressing him against a window and fucking him right there and then. Homelander loved the thrill. If anyone looked up they could see the Supe naked body pressed against the glass.

— Tying his hands behind his back and forcing him to choke and suck your cock while recoding him. 

— He ashamed since his guilty pleasure is that he wants a threesome. He wants you and some other man to ruin and fuck him at the same time. He wants to take both of you guys. He hasn’t told you about his wish but hopes it can come true one day.

THE END

[b00tyliciousbabe]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

barbie tingz

marcus scribner x THICC male reader

summary: just marcus loving you like with his heart, soul, and FAT SCHLONG. slight feminisation - don’t kill me.

notes: LOVELIES! hope everyone is having a beautiful day. i wanted to let y’all know that i will be taking a lil break because it’s exam season. don’t be sad…because this means i have an entire summer of smutty content to write and catch up on! ps. each word in this fic is me being another squat closer to the fattest ass in the world. ENJOY!

ALSO! the met gala is tonight! my favourite event of the year, i might make a short rec…how do we feel about that?

song rec: ‘freak’ - victoria monét

marcus was well on his way to establishing a name for himself in hollywood. booking new roles, alongside his debut as a director, he was on track for a career that would rival his mentors. but if you were to ask him what his biggest achievement was, he would say being with you. the corny mf has actually reiterated his adoration multiple times during interviews, and the world is obsessed with how lovestruck he was. aside from being social media’s favourite young couple, you, yourself, had a blossoming career in fashion that meant you were styling your man to make sure he looked good for his press tours.

notoriously, you garnered a reputation for EATING UP on the carpet - zendaya being your only competition. this ain’t no exaggeration, but every time you’d step out, those fits would break the internet. thus, when the news dropped that you’d be attending the premiere with your boyfriend, all eyes would be on you - yet again. having you on his arm, instantly elevated his aesthetic. not that he ever saw you as some pawn too boost his career, you meant the world to him, but your beauty as his trophy wife made him even more palatable. usually, you’d have an entire glam team by your side cultivating your iconic, polished look. but, you and marcus had both been working so hard, to the detriment of your relationship, and so you decided to spend the night at his, agreeing to do all the glam yourself.

‘Y/N,’ Marcus bellowed from downstairs, putting on his rings, and spraying cologne onto his clothes. ‘baby, we gotta go.’

‘Y/N! over here! to the left! Y/N!’ a flurry of paparazzi screamed. ‘the body is TEA!’ one reporter exclaimed, making you laugh.

you graciously blushed. they weren’t wrong, your pear-shaped figure, defined abs, and toned arms were nothing short of a sculpted masterpiece. amidst the bbl allegations on twitter, and every tabloid claiming to have the secret to getting an ass as perfect as yours, YOU were the standard. a beautiful, androgynous mix of allure and charm. not even chris evans, america’s ass, said that you had the best glutes in the industry. it was a thing of wonder; something so many lusted for, and even more desired to have a piece of whilst having you in backshots. there were an array of wolf whistles from the public whenever you walked, swiftly followed by a gaggle of photographers snapping shots of your post-gym bawd.

marcus soon joined you on the carpet after finishing up on his interview. if the sensory overstimulation of flashes and cheers wasn’t enough, this was heightened when marcus snaked his arm around your lower back. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, spectators were foaming at the mouth by his public proclamations of love, hiding your blush from the world.

‘don’t be shy,’ he said lifting your chin to his face. ‘there’s that smile I love.’ the whole crowd was gushing, you could’ve cringed at how clingy he was being in public, but found his confidence to do so, all the more endearing.

one thing that you sly liked about marcus, was how he jealous he could get, so many of his friends and industry buffs would come up to talk to you during the interviews, coming up for hugs, and even though he trusted you, his need to protect had him riled. marcus had a great relationship with all of his co-stars and they all became such a family over the filming process. you being there made the family even stronger, embodying the role of MOTHERRR in more ways than one, and they all appreciated your kindness. always there to soften the stressful tones of your bf’s criticism.

you were particularly close with his friend from another project, and due to mutual management you spent a lot of time in the same spaces. he came up and hugged you from behind, before being whisked away to speak with another reporter. all but a few seconds, lasted an eternity, the worst kind, burned into the possessive psyche of your man.

moments passed and it was time for group pictures on the carpet. you and marc were dead center, with his large hands gripping you tighter than usual. you looked up to see he was scowling, ‘lighten up bubs.’ you giggled, to which your bf fixed his face - he could never stay mad when you were always there to calm his demons. not long after, the same face screw, that made his nose look so cute came back, as he remembered the voices of the media resounding in his head.

‘damn I’d hit that.’

‘Marcus is one lucky mf to be all up in dat pussy’

‘I bet the recoil on that thing is insane.’

it infuriated him to hear how the public spoke about you, as if you were some object, and not the kind person he grew so enamoured with. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you gon’ beg me for mercy.’ he whispered , breaking that veneer of respectability for a brief moment, squeezing your butt, then turning back to smile at the cameras. you’d never seen that side to him, it’d be a lie to say it didn’t turn you on.

throughout the screening, he made sure to let you know that all your teasing would soon be dealt with. the vulgar remarks were still plaguing him, and you knew you were about to be on the receiving end of it. literally.

‘upstairs.’ he said sternly,

the two of you started kissing, unbuttoning his shirt as he unbuckled your pants to free the globes of juicy flesh he loved so much. strewn across the floor, all fear of creasing the custom couture outfit you were wearing had disappeared - the overwhelming desire to make love to your boyfriend clouded your judgement.

you get down to business, kneeling to align your lips with his cock head. ‘don’t take this the wrong way.’ marcus sighed, urging you to stand up, so frail against how tall your man stood.

‘Y/N, i just wanna fuck right now.’

you knew how badly he needed this, and a part of you liked how desperate he was to be inside you. but it was bizarre, marcus loved watching you suck him off, getting him all lubed to plough your hole, almost as much as you loved gagging on his meat. nonetheless, you obliged, bending over as you had your knees on the edge of the bed, hole puckering at the chill of the air. marcus grabbed your left cheek, caressing and massaging your upper hip.

‘so fucking soft.’ he whispers against your skin, kissing at your taint. it was as if he snapped out of his love drunk trance, and was left a primal shell of himself. he practically ripped off your underwear, leaving your naked bodies to rub up on each other as he scrambled to find lube.

‘fuuuuuuuk’ he groaned.

his thick schlong fit like a glove in your inviting hole, slick from your desire and his precum.

‘damn i missed that boy pussy’ - LIES. that man combusts if he isn’t inside of you at least 4 times a week - wtf was there to miss? this sentiment made you smile at how whipped he was for you though.

his pace quickened. pulling his entire length out of you, except his bulbous tip, and spitting directly on your pussy to get you even more slick. ‘hear that baby,’ he praised the ‘mac n cheese’ sloppiness of your hole. ‘your pussy was made for me.’ he was right; most guys love skinny twinks because their petite butts made their tops’ look hung. despite the voluptuous curves you had, you were ample in both chest and derrière making average look like a micro penis inside you. all but marcus. he overpowered you in ways no other man could, his thick, girthy cock stretched you out in a way that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. not to mention his length, during your first time he could barely fit half in without it feeling like he was stabbing your insides. but after some practice, you started taking him - ALL of him.

his grunts deepened. ‘practically begging me to cum inside that hole.’ gripping your hair up fucking you in doggy. style. marcus began leaving love bites on your neck, marking you for all to see. his big hand crossed to caress your childbearing hips. whoever said men can’t get pregnant must’ve never accounted for marcus’ determination. his dick wanted to make you a mother so badly, and nothing was going to stop him trying.

‘you can take it.’ he praises. ‘all. of. it.’ slamming into you with a bold rhythm on his final three words. and that you could. your hole was heaven for him. every time he would enter, your thick meaty globes would bounce like jelly on his lower abdomen, making marcus even more inclined to give you your reward. you moaned out in ecstasy, your bodies were made for one another.

‘who’s pussy is this?’ his grip on your neck became tighter, still allowing you to moan out in response, ‘it’s yours marky, all yours.’ fuck. you were whipped, almost as much as he was. ‘that’s right baby, moan for me.’

‘scream like the little bitch you are.’ you and marcus both enjoyed the passion of rough sex, but this was something you hadn’t ever seen in him before. he was a beast and you loved it, way more than you could ever admit. there was something sweet about the high you were on as you were being impaled by his dick.

particularly, he relished in hearing your slutty cries, ‘music to my fucking ears.’ praising you ‘my pretty little slut, fuck yeah, you want my load.’

‘fuck yeah marc, give it to me please.’ you screeched, loving how hard he was clapping your cheeks.

‘shiiiiiiit, baby, fuuuuuck.’ he spouted, spilling his pearliness into your pussy. he used his thumbs to kneed the dough around your hips, losing himself in the bakery he so enjoyed visiting every morning for breakfast.

gently, he collapsed on top of you, still inside the warmth of your flesh. after a gentle make out sesh, cockwarming your boyfriend until he was soft, your bf brushed up against you. massaging your thick thighs, marcus tended to the bruises he gave, kissing them reassuringly. you ushered him to lay his head between your pecs, as he put his entire body weight onto you. he sighed deeply, feeling safe in your warm embrace. ‘marc, is everything okay?’ you stroke his face, as your fingers laced into his curls. he snickered groggily, ‘shouldn’t i be asking you the same thing?’ - a fair question because he litch just wrecked your shit. ‘real, but we both know that in a couple hours i’ll be fine.’ a silence filled the room, concern brewing in your heart. you played with his ear, knowing how he becomes putty in your hands. ‘fuuuuuck, you ain’t gon’ stop unless i talk, right?’ you kept quiet, trailing the tips of your fingers on his lobe. he sighed deeply, ‘i just get so possessive over you.’ his last words muffled by your ample bosom as he came to the realisation that the press’ words got to him more than he thought.

sitting up, marcus exhaled deeply. ‘i can’t even blame them for ogling, you’re so beautiful.’ ‘but u ain’t an object, and i hate that people treat you like that.’ you caressed his cheek with a loving care. ‘call it jealousy, possession, toxic - I don’t care. you’re all mine.’ marcus always felt the need to take care of what was his, doing better than what he had seen throughout his childhood.

you had an idea, trailing your fingers down his torso, circling his belly button, ‘why don’t you show me again?’ whispering into his ear as he breathed out in pleasure.

you kissed his cheek, before slowly massaging his dick tip, ‘how much do you love me.’

marcus turned you over. stroking and licking his ear, y’all were so intimate. he held onto the grooves of your waist, fucking into you slowly, marking your neck with his saliva.

‘you’re such a dream to me Y/N,’ he always had a way with words that made you smile like a school girl. ‘I was so selfish before, you didn’t even come.’ you always placed marcus’ pleasure above your own, but he was never satisfied with just brutalising your hole. he needed you to enjoy taking his dick, just as much as he enjoyed gaping your hole.

‘guess I’ll have to fuck another load in, to get one out of you.’ he joked, sucking on the sweet skin of your plump ass.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽��☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

[witchygod]

Thinking about Kenji Sato Flanderization

I think certain scene with Kenji certainly stood out out about Kenji for fans, particularly the "do my own thing" and "I know it's been a long year but you got me now" scenes and I've noticed a trend where Kenji is characterized as well honestly a bit of an asshole, sometimes to an unlikable degree so let's talk about it.

I also think these scenes have paid into some instances of flanderization of Kenji's character. Yes he's a bit arrogant and witty but he's not as egotistical as everyone thinks- he's certainly not as RUDE as everyone seems to perceive him though he does have a temper. It should be noted his temper only seems to come through when he's extremely stressed or on the field- in conflict. He's very graceful in how he handles Ami's questions as wel. He only gets snarky with his coach because his coach approached him first with abundant hostility which I'm gonna be real- not the kind of behavior that is ideal, one could argue he was trying to weigh Kenji's value but with the context of Kenji being a world series player in America this is value as an athlete that should be proven already, if he's concerned about Kenji's arrogance that'd be another thing and while that's certainly AN issue but he admits it plainly what it is 'this is Japanese baseball not American' and Kenji responding to that with a bit of disrespect is extremely fair- and coming from his coach it very much paints the tone of how he's gonna be interacting with his teammates.

A large part of Kenji's rudeness is a direct result of hostility or an active defense from either invasive questions perceived attacks on how 'japanese he is'. This is not a subtle sub theme of his character mind you- he straight up admits to Ami that the reason he 'doesnt give a shit' is because he had to learn to because he was always being judged for being Japanese in America.

Let's not get it wrong though- Kenji is arrogant and egotistical because seriously who gives out their autograph without being prompted. These are some traits, but he's not entirely up his own ass, and he's not rude (Mama Sato raised a very good boy... Ultradad helped too) . Aside from when he was pissy with her for asking some extremely personal questions off the back at a press event- Kenji is extremely respectful of Ami, he makes sure to remember the reporters by their names not publicist and while he's not humble he's very sociable. Hell he's even polite talking to the Kaiju- actively taking a gentler tone of voice with Gigantron despite his frustrations (and increasing panic over the fact the KDF is going to kill her and he can't figure out how to stop it)- he's snarky with Mina but even then he isn't entirely dismissive of her, honestly he treats an AI more like family than a servant which is a big difference in attitude than most egotistical superheroes with ai companions.

Kenji is not the sort to be a womanizer hell he doesn't even seem the sort to attend parties unless he's forced to, it's pretty clear he's a bit of a loner- this is evident as much as there is never a mention to him missing his teammates in America and the fact the only person he has to talk to in Japan aside from his father is an acquaintance he's not even certain won't publish his personal conversations with. (She won't because she's a fucking professional with ethics which is also the reason that she's not a love interest God bless I love you Ami💕) He's overwhelmed by relearning how to fit in to Japan, dealing with the xenophobia,adjusting to the new culture of baseball become Ultraman deal with his daddy issues and mourning the disappearance of his mother- all things that heavily influence his attitude and a lot of times seem to be overlooked by people.

We take away one or two of those stressors Kenji goes from snarky and arrogant to a whole lot more sociable and pleasant. He's at his core a sensitive and confident individual who's just really passionate about baseball. He's kind enjoys teaching others about his special interest and is charismatic and bold despite being prone to holding people at arms length. Which is fair because he has a lot of dangerous secrets.

In short Kenji Sato is just a Mama's boy girl(jk)

In short Kenji Sato is a pretty complex character who suffers from a decent amount of emotional constipation and just straight up having no friends. He's respectful and kind and a bit sensitive which can make him seem pretty temperamental and he's prone to pushing people away at the first sign of hostility or when they overstep his boundaries. He's extremely stressed throughout the movie and adjusting to a lot of NEW, and the KDF/Kaiju trying to get chunks out of him and the pretty blatant xenophobia from the baseball scene (ill justified by him playing badly :/) doesn't help.

I also didn't mention much of his reluctance to being a hero and his irresponsibility to the role initially I realized and I think that should be its own subject because what's going on there is less a personality thing and more.... Directly correspondent to his relationship with his father, and the fact he was GROSSLY unprepared for the role. But I do want to note that his sense of responsibility is a lot stronger than people think because it doesn't really take a lot to convince him to do the right thing after Nobiranga's death. If he was still prone to inaction after this event I'd chalk it up to a personality defect but no he's pretty quick to make more of an effort as Ultraman after this, he saw the consequences of his actions and while he's gonna whine about it he does what he has to.

I may also go on a Rant Rant later about his coach and how the next movie really needs to try to save his character because he's shit at his job....

[repulsiveliquidation]

Want, not Need. Pt. 2 || The Orgy

warnings : smut 18+, fingering, strap-on, cunnilingus, anal play, semi-public sex.

a/n : Mapi is not injured and hobbling about in this series, thank you very much. That is also my favorite picture of those two.

Part One

“Her?” Ingrid asks, “Where did you meet her?”

Mapi begins to go into vivid detail about your one-night stand with Mapi. She gets into the nitty gritty and boy does it pique Ingrid’s interest.

“We met at the bar, she was standing there with the most perfect ass I had ever seen at the time. Yours tops that list now.” Mapi says, giving Ingrid a little tap on her behind. She grins and smacks her girlfriend, listening to her explain her little night with you.

“She took the big one, Ingrid,” Mapi tells her proudly. Ingrid knew what Mapi was talking about. Mapi had a toy that she still struggled to take. It sat in the back of Mapi’s nightstand, a mountain Ingrid still hadn’t been able to conquer. She was thoroughly impressed though, and by the sound of it, Mapi was too.

“I mean, I barely fingered her open and she took it like a champ.”

“She is fascinating.”

Ingrid looks over at you, eyes already hooded like a predator that has eyes on prey.

“And she just left you? No goodbye?” Ingrid asks as she stands. Mapi stands too and tucks a lock of the Norwegian hair behind her ear.

“Just a note, and the most delicious breakfast I had in all my time in Madrid,” Mapi tells Ingrid as she begins to walk over to you. Mapi suddenly grabs her arm, pulls her back, and gives her a chaste kiss, grinning from ear to ear.

“Work your magic, huh princesa? She owes me a round of drinks.”

Ingrid saunters over, a friendly smile on her face.

“Hello, you must be who Jonatan was raving about, our newest sports writer! Please, call me Ingrid.”

“Yes, it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you, Ingrid. Y/N.”

The camera starts rolling and the interview goes smoothly. Mapi tries to focus back on training but can’t, spending more time staring at you and Ingrid than going through her drills for the day. She notices that Ingrid is flirting with you a little and you give her the same attention. Mapi stands at the water station after training just as Ingrid’s interview wraps up, watching your hand rub up and down Ingrid’s arm.  

Mapi bites the bullet and walks over, hand wrapped around Ingrid’s waist. She pulls Ingrid in for a kiss and Ingrid melts; you stand there awkwardly and scratch the back of your head.

“Mapi, it’s nice to meet you again,” you say, extending your hand out for her to shake.

“What brings you to Barcelona?” Mapi asks, shaking your hand but pulling you in for a hug.

“Work! I used to write for Madrid then I got a job in America for a while before transferring here.”

“Well, since we know each other and you seem to be getting along with my girlfriend so well, we’ll show you around!” Mapi insists, linking your arms together.

“Wait, I-I wouldn’t want to impose!” You say and step back, ready to help the crew pack up and go back to your hotel room.

“Nonsense,” Ingrid says, reaching out for your arm. “Give Mapi a minute to clean up and we can head for dinner!” Ingrid links her arms with yours and walks ahead of Mapi, the shorter woman smirking at all the possibilities dinner could bring.

Throughout dinner, Mapi and Ingrid take turns teasing you. Whether it was under the table of the family-owned restaurant or being extra careful of you by ordering for you and pulling your chair out.

Ingrid insists on paying for dinner, even when you try to go over to the counter and make the teenager behind the counter take your card.

“You’re new to our home, let us take care of you,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your ear before pulling you out the door.

Mapi takes your hand and drags you down the street to a private bar. You grin and walk in with Ingrid in tow, the loud music bringing back memories of that night you had with Mapi.

“Time to cash in on that promise, princesa. The first round is on you,” Mapi teases and tilts your head up to look at her at the bar, index finger tapping your nose. You buy drinks as promised, bringing them to both the girls who found a private corner of the bar to sit at. You sit at the end, sipping innocently on your minty gin. Mapi stands, downing her rum and coke in one swig before standing behind you. She caresses her hands down your arms, lips close to your ear.

“May I?” she asks softly. You nod, eyes locked onto Ingrid’s that are a similar dark-hooded shade. Mapi’s lips begin to kiss along your neck and shoulder, hands moving to your waist as she presses her front tight to your back.

“Come on, you must show Ingrid how well you move those hips hm?” Mapi encourages, helping you off the seat.

You follow them to the packed dancefloor, Ingrid instantly pulling you to her as Mapi stands behind her and holds her waist. In a split-second decision, you decide to let go and enjoy yourself. You dance with Ingrid and Mapi, the heat of the dancefloor bringing a light blush to all your faces. Ingrid, in a surprising turn of events, turns and begins to grind back on you despite only one drink.

You hesitate to touch her, eyes shooting up at Mapi who looks a little confused as to why you are still holding back. She suddenly pulls you into her and kisses you hard. You melt into her like Ingrid did earlier, the feeling of her lips on yours brings you back to her apartment where you last felt her. You pull away a little breathless, her lips just millimeters from yours.

“Don’t keep her waiting, pretty girl.”

You nod softly and pull Ingrid close, the tall Norwegian goes back to grinding on you. She’s a little buzzed, hips moving back on you beautifully. You too grab her hips and dance along with her, looking up to see Ingrid and Mapi making out lovingly.

You begin to kiss down Ingrid’s bare shoulder, nipping at her flesh to leave deep teeth marks. Your hands don’t stop caressing her, the two of them now noisily kissing each other when Ingrid pulls away with a loud smack.

“Need you,” she says to Mapi before she turns to you shaking her head, “No, want you.”

This time you take charge and pull them towards the private bathrooms at the end of the room. Ingrid was all over you the moment the door locked, eagerly on her knees while Mapi grabbed your face to kiss you. Ingrid pulled your jeans down, happily settled between your legs as she began to lap hungrily at your pussy.

Mapi kept your moans to a minimum, kissing you hard with her hand wrapped around your neck lightly. One hand held Ingrid’s head close, the other tangled in Mapi’s messy hair. She began to kiss down your neck, the music in the club becoming louder which gave you a bit of confidence to moan freely. Ingrid held your legs steady, tongue flicking over your clit fast and hard. Mapi pulled your shirt up and began to suck on your breasts hard. You moaned loudly without a care in the world, the feeling of one of them was the best fuck of your life and now to have the two of them take care of you was a dream come true.

Ingrid sucked hard on your clit, two long fingers slipping into your pussy before you felt Mapi’s lips leave your chest. Before you could open your eyes, she spanked your ass.  

“Quédate quieto.”

You nod and listen, feeling her move around as your hips begin to almost ride Ingrid’s fingers. You feel her hands pull at your ass, tongue flat and warm against your second hole. You yelp and ride the sensations; Ingrid’s lips wrapped tight around your clit, her fingers pressed deep inside you, and Mapi’s tongue jabbing its way into your ass.

“Fuck…” you moan, hand reaching back to hold Mapi’s head closer as Ingrid’s fingers press harder against your sweet spot. You hunch over, pulling on Ingrid’s hair but she relents, sucking harder and harder on your clit.  

“Ingrid, fuck…I’m close!” you squeak, thighs quivering as she slips a third finger inside your pussy. Mapi takes a bite of your ass and stands, holding you close and looking down over your shoulder at Ingrid at your feet.

“Seems familiar doesn’t it, pretty girl? She looks so gorgeous on her knees where she belongs no?”

Your eyes roll into your head when you remember her voice having the same lilt it had now when she said the same thing to you.

“Y-Yes! Fuck please, yes!”

Ingrid gives you one last come-hither flick inside you and you crash, thighs trembling as your orgasm ripples through you.

Mapi catches you and lets you crumble to the floor. You grab Ingrid’s face and kiss her passionately, moaning into her mouth when the taste of you floods your senses.

“Please take me home,” you beg, turning to look at a smug Mapi. She looks put together, and not someone who just ate your ass and pushed you toward a knee-buckling orgasm.

“You girls clean up, I’ll bring the car to the front.”

You sit in the back of the car with Ingrid, her lips on yours the whole short drive home.

“You’re right Mapi,” Ingrid starts, fingertips dancing over your features. “She is pretty.”

Mapi grins and winks at you in the rear-view mirror, before Ingrid turns your head back to look at her.

“Eyes on me, elskling,” she demands, not sounding as menacing as she wants. You raise your eyebrow at her and Mapi starts to laugh, parking the car and getting out.

Ingrid huffs and marches into the building herself, Mapi stops you before you can walk in.

“She’s a brat sometimes,” Mapi starts, hands in her pocket looking as cool as a cucumber.

“I can see that.”  

“She’s been acting up lately, I think someone else being in charge should get her to behave.”

“You want me to”

“Just for a bit, while I watch of course,” she presses the button for the lift and you take a deep breath, there is a lingering hint of Ingrid’s perfume in the air. She must be upstairs already.

“Brat taming was not how I envisioned my evening going.”

“Surprised?”

“Tickled.”

 Walking into Mapi and Ingrid’s beautiful apartment, she takes your hand and gently guides you to the bedroom where Ingrid lays naked on the bed spread eagle with her fingers plunged deep into her pussy.

You and Mapi stand over her, arms crossed in unison. Ingrid merely smiles and plays with her chest, her right hand busy between her legs.

“You were taking too long down there so I figured I’d sort myself out,” she whimpers, a third finger sliding into her wet pussy before she dramatically turns onto her knees and fingers herself that way. She moans into the mattress but stops when she doesn’t hear anyone berating her for being a brat.

Instead, she hears clothes falling to the ground, lips smacking softly and moans begging for more. She pulls her sticky fingers out of her pussy and turns back around, jaw dropped in shock when she sees you on your knees already sucking on Mapi’s strap.

She didn’t even notice Mapi grabbing it from the bedside drawer let alone giving you her spare one. You gag loudly and Ingrid takes notice of the silicone cock you’re sucking on; it’s the one she’s never been able to take.

“Good girl, princesa…” Mapi praises, running her fingers through your hair. She pulls a makeshift ponytail and fucks into your mouth, moaning loudly to put on a show for Ingrid. Ingrid shuffles over and pulls you away from Mapi, lips wrapped around Mapi’s cock. You both kneel in front of her, taking turns to suck her cock. She grins and goes with it, feeling the tension grow between you and Ingrid.

“On the bed, both of you,” Mapi says sternly, Ingrid scrambling onto the bed quickly. You follow her, stroking your cock which was much smaller than Mapi’s but was one that Ingrid took very easily.

Mapi pulled an office chair to the end of the bed, sitting back and relaxing. She lazily stroked her cock, before pointing at Ingrid.

“You will do as she says. Disobey her, you do not get my cock much less hers.”

Ingrid nods, looking at you and leaning in for a kiss. You kiss her back, slowly pushing her onto her back. Ingrid moves as you do, legs spread wide open like she did earlier. You kiss her messily, hands fondling her full breasts and supple skin.

“Mm, I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you at Wolfsburg the first time.”

“You’ve waited that long, cariño?” Mapi asks in a bored tone, looking at her nails as she pulls a hangnail off.

“Sí, so long…” you whisper, sucking on Ingrid’s nipple. She whines and arches her back, hands pushing your hair out of your face as she squirms on the bed.

You kiss down her toned midfielder body, her abs prominent as she breathes heavier and heavier. You bite just over her hip, pressing her thighs wide open. You settle between her legs at the edge of the bed, tongue-mouthing eagerly at her sloppy folds.

“Fuck!” she moans, hands tangled in your hair as she tries to grind up into your mouth. You stop her and pin her down tighter, sucking harder at her clit as she begs for you to let her come.

“Already, Ingrid?” you tease, two fingers slipping into her easily.

“Yes…feels so good…” she begs, head thumping back on the mattress.

“Oh, I don’t own your orgasms, Ingrid. Mapi does, you should ask her,” you say amusedly, grinning at a smirking Mapi who leaned over with her elbows on her knees. You go back to fucking Ingrid, four fingers now deeply pressed into her open pussy as your lips suckle hard on her swollen clit.

“All you have to do is ask, mi amor,” Mapi teases, reaching over and tucking a loose strand of hair behind Ingrid’s ear. Her eyes fill with tears as the feeling of the stretch begins to course through her.

“Please, Mapi…” she whimpers, “I’ve been good.”

Mapi leans back into her menacing chair, hand on her chin like she’s thinking.

“Have you been good, Ingrid?” she asks, spinning around slowly. You’ve turned Ingrid onto her stomach, tongue lapping fast at her asshole as your fingers press up into her sweet spot. She grunts and begins to keen, lips begging Mapi to let her come.

“I don’t know, bebita. We’ve had a guest in our home and you’ve been a needy little slut the whole night. Should she come, princesa? Has our Norwegian whore been a good girl?”

“Hmm,” you begin, thumb circling over Ingrid’s clit as three fingers rub hard on her sweet spot. She’s trembling hard, fighting her impending orgasm the best she can.

“She did make me come in the club earlier, that was nice of her,” you say, kissing her belly button.

“She can come.”

Ingrid screams your name, back fully arching off the bed as the shocks course through her entire body. She pants hard and mutters a soft “Come here,” before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. You press your thigh between her legs and she cheekily grinds up into it, biting your lip.

Mapi stands and pulls you off her, wrenching open your jaw to spit into. It lands all over your mouth but in it before she leans in for a kiss. Ingrid reaches for the bottle of lube and spreads it all over Mapi’s cock, obediently awaiting more instructions.

Mapi gets on the bed behind Ingrid, kissing along her shoulder. You lean in and kiss her lips, caressing her thighs. The Norwegian can’t figure out who to focus on, her hands grabbing you to lace together.

Mapi pushes her forward, fingers rubbing tenderly over her folds. Ingrid becomes face to face with your cock, eagerly taking it in her mouth as Mapi slips her cock into Ingrid. She goes slow and adds more lube, knowing that Ingrid struggles to take this one.

To her surprise, Ingrid swallows it up with ease, moaning loudly around your cock as the thick silicone fills her aching pussy. Mapi thrusts slowly, getting her used to the stretch. Ingrid focuses on your cock, sucking on the much smaller appendage with practiced ease.

Mapi moans and reaches for you, leaning over Ingrid as her hips pound into her girlfriend. You cradle Ingrid’s head, leaning forward, and kiss Mapi. You hear Ingrid choke a couple of times, your hips gently nudging the toy down her throat. You pull away from Mapi and pull Ingrid off your cock, kissing her spit-soaked face.

“Fucking hell Ingrid, you’re such a whore for us huh? Love having two cocks fill your holes?”

“Not all my holes…” she says with a grin, a harsh smack on her ass resounding through the room.

“Basta, puta asquerosa,” Mapi looks up at you, hips never faltering even once. “Come here.”

You scoot over, grabbing the bottle of lube, knowing your next move before Mapi asks. She pulls out of Ingrid and helps her onto her side, two of your fingers slipping into her asshole. She whimpers, hips chasing the feeling eagerly.

“More, please,” she asks, knuckles white as she grips the sheets tight in pleasure.

You kiss along her side and ass, scissoring your fingers faster before pushing in a third. She grabs your wrist and guides your hand, your bicep cramping as you finger her asshole open enough to take your cock and Mapi’s at the same time.

“I can! Just hurry, please!” She squeals, hiking her leg up to her chest as Mapi adds more lube to her cock and yours. She slips in first, rubbing Ingrid’s thigh as you line yourself up with Ingrid’s ass.

You slip in and Ingrid moans long and loud, feeling overwhelmingly full and buzzed. You lean down and kiss her softly, the center-back smiling softly before nodding for you to move. Mapi starts slow, thrusting into her girlfriend before urging you to thrust on her upstroke. You alternate like a smooth machine, Ingrid babbling nonsense as raw pleasure surges through her petite body.

“Faster!” she screams, hips moving back on you and Mapi. You spank her ass and beckon your hips faster, kissing Mapi passionately as she also fucks into Ingrid faster.

The Norwegian comes with a scream of both your names, the sheer force of the orgasm pushing you both out of her as she quivers and squirms. You’re both beside her in an instant, straps abandoned somewhere in the room.

Ingrid smiles drunkenly, one hand cradling Mapi’s head behind her and the other petting your abs.

“I think I went to heaven,” she slurs before looking at you. “I wanted you too, you know. I saw you at the final against Lyon. Was too shy to say hi, but it was worth the wait.”  

[letorip]

Can you do headcanons about meeting/first date with Jenna’s characters?

meetings & first dates

very funny to think about, i really did have quite good fun writing this one. thank you as always to the anon who requested, i was happy to oblige. also this isn’t what i originally planned to put out but casual [iii] should be out soon so maybe this’ll fill the void. i'm also on holiday at the moment, so that's why i'm posting at a weird hour (5 am) my ass had a plane to catch

i think i cooked on the lorraine one, would y'all want that one too

wednesday addams

you meet her in jericho, working behind the counter of the hardware store your parents own, when she stomps inside in her rain soaked boots and down a random aisle without a word at you

when she comes back with a shovel, some duct tape, a taser, and some rope, you have to awkwardly joke that it looks like she's trying to kill something

she doesn't laugh at your joke, instead staring right back at you, and you feel yourself gulp

that's your first interaction, and you don't see her again for a few days, until she comes back to buy a box of nails, and then a week later, a bucket, and a few days after that, a plunger

you won't know it until later, but she didn't actually need the nails or the bucket, she just needed an excuse to go back to the hardware store and buy some stuff so she could get up close to you

after four or five trips of her buying the most odd, random shit, she works up the courage to actually start talking to you a bit more. after a few more trips after that, you ask her what the stuff is all for, and she lets you in on the creature in the woods killing the locals, and that she claims to have seen it

for what it's worth, you believe her immediately, about rowan and the hyde and crackstone, and you listen to her theorise, leaning on the counter until someone else comes in and asks you where the plywood is, and you have to actually go do your job. wednesday stares down the intruder, trying to smite them with her eyes, but you always give her an apologetic smile before you leave

she tells you later when you're better friends and she's confessing, but she thinks of you as an odd comfort and home that she never realised she desired, and being in the hardware store and having you smile at her gave her a single fluttering of that warmth

eventually she brings you on her investigations and her cold, dead heart is running a million miles an hour the entire time, but you have to hide how close you are to wednesday from your father, because of his passionate dislike of outcasts

wednesday comes to your back window and chucks rocks at the glass to get your attention, romeo and juliet style, so that you can sneak out

when you actually ask her out, it's before you've even kissed, and wednesday wordlessly nods yes with her mouth hanging open, before she grabs the collar of your jacket and messily kisses you for the first time

your first date is to a movie, and to a horror movie, to be more specific. you take her to get food at a local diner that's open 24 hours, super late at night, and though she makes a remark about how these restaurants were unhealthy and an indicator of what's wrong with america, she thoroughly enjoys her waffle and you even manage to get her to wear one of those silly diner hates for a moment. she doesn't admit it, but she likes making you laugh

the movie is an incredibly rough experience. you despise horror movies, but wednesday is left smiling at the screen as a man is ripped to shreds in front of your eyes

that is until she realises your discomfort, and she realises you only did this because you knew she would like it. the realisation literally blows her mind, and she watches your face contort in disgust and fear, before gently reaching over and hastily grabbing your hand

she doesn't say another word, struggling to process the new emotions until you're both done with the movie and walking home. you're ranting about how gross it was and how you would be having nightmares for weeks because of it, and then she reaches up to the back of your neck and pulls you down into another fiery kiss, right as it starts to rain

tara carpenter

you've known tara for years, since you're also from woodsboro. you went to the same elementary school and she’s known of you for a long, long time since you chased her around the playground with a lizard in your hands

tara's always liked you, and you've both always had some attraction to each other and magical chemistry, but there's always been something to keep you apart

tara's involvement with amber and then chad, and then your own girlfriends, it was never the right time for you both to explore whatever electricity you could feel between you, so you didn't until you were both well into your year at blackmore

you only really get close until you take the same film class as tara. tara takes it because she's a film major and you take it because you need the credit and it's the only option of a class that takes place after 8 in the morning

you sit right next to each other and for the whole semester, you two slowly grow closer and closer, poking each other and whispering stuff while the professor prattles on

she's the de facto film buff of the group, only rivalled by mindy, and so you go to her whenever you're working on a project, because you're definitely the type to watch stupid shit, and not the high-brow film stuff the class requires

it means you end up hanging out a lot, at the library, at the coffee shop, on the couch of her apartment. you both set up the '1 for 1' rule, in which she gets to show you a movie for ever movie you get to show her

and she shows you really annoyingly good stuff, while you make her watch utter garbage. neither of you admit it, but you end up liking some of the high-brow art she pushes and she ends up having fun with the stupid movies you show her

when she makes you watch the babadook, you make her watch hot tub time machine, when she makes you watch citizen kane, you make her watch bridesmaids, and when she makes you watch la la land, you make her watch zoolander. it's a mutual exchange of interests, and you both lean against each other when you watch them on the couch or on her bed

paddington absolutely makes tara carpenter cry, there, i said it, and you show it to her and hug her when she does

things are genuinely just so easy and perfect with you, and it's so natural in a way that is unnatural for tara, but in a good way. you're unlike anyone she's ever been with, and it's refreshing and new in a way that's so exciting when you both kiss during the movie before sunrise

that's why it's so funny when your first date goes absolutely awfully

it rains on you, while you both walk to the restaurant and neither of you brought an umbrella because it wasn't projected to rain. then the sushi place you're bringing her to completely forgets your reservation and you're both waiting 30 minutes to get a table, and to top matters off, you end up being allergic to a fish you try for the first time, and need to get taken in hospital

you're not even choking really, just broken out into hives and feeling lightheaded, and tara's in the ambulance with you on the way there, and you're both talking casually, like "how was your day?"

you both get there and realise tara forgot her phone at the restaurant, and whereas anyone else would be pissed and call it a terrible date and give up, you both are fucking laughing your heads off at how cartoonishly awful the date went, even though it's a hospital, and that probably isn't the right place to be laughing in

when you're released super late that night, you both end up just wandering around new york until the late hours of the morning, just talking and occasionally holding hands. tara mentions that it reminds her of la la land, and you kiss, and what would've been a deal-breaking, awful date for anyone else just becomes something you shared with each other, and brings you even more in love

reminds me of the song ant pile by dominic fike

lorraine day

you meet lorraine as the kid of the new corn farmer in town, after your grandfather gets too old to be able to maintain his land by himself. your father has to come back and take over, due to his declining health, and you first see each other when lorraine and her daddy come to say hello and talk business for cow feed

she spots you in the back, leaning on the fence next to the field with your arms crossed and your hat pulled low, and you're just watching her and her dad talking to yours with a frown

she's set on edge by your presence, even though you're not really part of the conversation. she has to stop herself when she realises she keeps looking over at you every couple seconds, and you're still just staring at her and her father in a way that isn't exactly friendly

your dad is a generally nice guy, and he gives her your name in a passing mention and graciously accepts the pie lorraine's momma made to bring to the new partners, but it overall isn't a great first impression, and she decides right there in her daddy's truck on the ride home that she doesn't like you very much

when you're brought up again, it's by her father a week or so later. he's mentioning how helpful you are around your grandfather's farm over dinner, saying how your grandfather is blessed to have someone so good-hearted, and lorraine can’t help but remember the look of you glowering against the fence at them and doubt how true that is

she still doesn't like you, when you actually talk for the first time. RJ is bringing her home after an incredibly awkward date and gets a flat, and just as it starts to rain, guess who spots her and decides to pull over in their rusty ass pickup truck with a weird look on your face that lorraine can't help but assume is smugness

your truck bed is full of tools and supplies for your grandfather's farm and you haven't got a spare on you, but you know there's one in the shed on your farm. there's only one seat open in your truck, and even though lorraine heavily hints to RJ that she doesn't want to go, she's volunteered, as RJ doesn't want to leave his van on the side of the road, even though there's not many people who would touch the piece of junk

you snort when he insinuates that lorraine wouldn't be strong enough to fend off anyone who would take the van, and even though she's equally as miffed by RJ's assumption she's a bit annoyed by you defending her

the ride home is incredibly tense and neither of you say much until you're pulling into your yard and you say, "for the record, i highly doubt he'll be fending anyone off either." it's funny and it almost makes her laugh until she remembers she decided she didn't like you and she has to get serious again, and tells you not to talk about her boyfriend that way, and you don't say anything for the rest of the time you're helping her

she sits in the truck watching you from the wing mirror as you roll the spare out from your shed and then hoist it into the truck bed, looking sweaty and muscles tensing with effort. even though you're kind of annoying, you're tanned and you're fit, and it's something she can't help but notice whenever she goes to your farm in search of her father, who sometimes comes over to buy corn for his cattle

you both naturally start to grow into something resembling a friendship. you'll shoot the shit when you're not working, leaning on the handle of a shovel half in the ground, and lorraine will walk over and just kind of talk to you for a while. she doesn't even really realise the annoyance has melted away until it smacks her in the face that she was really wrong about you

your first date isn't actually a date until it's over. lorraine is at a lake day with her friends when one shows up with you in tow. she didn't even realise you had friends, but you're there with them and you look damn good in your swim suit, and you actually start talking a little bit about leaving the big city for your grandfather

you're all having fun, swimming around and talking, and she sees you're pretty funny when you want to be. it's kind of jarring to see just how wrong she was about you, and you both end up dancing around to your friend playing guitar and singing along

you end up being her ride home, and though there's still an underlying tension in the air, this time your truck is full of laughter and you're both actually talking. about halfway through, you accidentally let it slip that you asked your friend if lorraine was going to be there, and though the tips of your ears are red and you're apologising, lorraine can't help but reach right over and kiss you, and suddenly everything feels right in the world

cairo sweet

you meet her on the first day of creative writing, as the new student at your school, and mr. miller's seating chart places you directly next to her. she stares at you a bit, as if unimpressed by your existence, and you stare right back at her, equally as unimpressed

though you're new, you quickly skyrocket to incredible academic success, and cairo is enraged to find that with the transfer of credits, you're now really the valedictorian, sweeping it from underneath her feet at the very end of her senior year

with that, she absolutely despises you and everything you stand for

you have to trade papers for peer grading and while you calmly grade it at first, when you see that yours is covered in marks and cairo is being absolutely brutal beyond belief, nitpicking every little punctuation mark and symbol she can, you get a bit annoyed and start doing the exact same thing to her

it's a giant game of one-upping the other, and you guys repeatedly mess with each other like a chess match of fucking each other over. neither of you will admit you find the other annoyingly magnetic and captivating, you instead resort to messing with each other's standings

you both are duking it out over each little test grade, as cairo desperately tries to regain her spot at number one and you attempt to fend her off and keep your place. she'll brag about her perfect score on the calculus exam, and then you'll clap back with your extra credit. you absolutely dominate her in maths and sciences but she has you beat in creative writing and histories

winnie is greatly amused by the whole ordeal, and keeps insisting to cairo that you both should get it over with and fuck already but she scoffs and claims to resent the implication. doesn't mean she hasn't thought about it, though

her involvement with mr. miller is something she's only doing to maintain her spot as mr. miller's favourite student. cairo has the writing skill to back it up and is incredibly gifted with the pen, but you ooze a certain charisma that makes the teachers around you all giant fans, and she would be lying if she didn't say she was worried you would pull mr. miller's recommendation letter with it, and steal it right out from under her. it's entirely possible for a teacher to write more than one recommendation letter, she just wants the satisfaction of being the first one to get it

when you're partnered up on a group writing project that needs to be done in pairs, cairo sees it as the perfect opportunity to gather intel on you. another thing she hates is how mysterious you are, and how not many people actually know that much about you, other than how pleasant you are

she insists it has to happen at your house, and though you try to argue, she insists it has to be the case. it surprises her, when she puts your address into her phone and she sees it's a small one bedroom apartment in a bad part of town, without air conditioning and with terrible plumbing, and that your father works three jobs to support you

she doesn't know what she expected, but that's definitely not it, with your ability to dress and intelligence. suddenly her arch nemesis gains a third dimension, and she understands just how hard you work

though you're guarded at first, you both actually slowly discover that you don't exactly mind the other that much. you still want to keep your spot and she desperately wants it for her own, but you say something silly and it makes her laugh- really laugh- for what feels like the first time in a long time

you work together on the project more and more, and suddenly she's enjoying your company and wanting you around. she's definitely a little bit disgusted by that at first, but it's something she can't deny

she asks you on your first date to a poetry reading on a saturday, and you're a bit confused since the group project is already over, but you decide to go anyways and you have a great time. you say something profound after one of the poems, and cairo's eyes just drop to your lips in a weird amazement

she's dragging you to the bathroom immediately before the next poem can even start, and i don't think i have to say what happens next, but it's messy and there's lipstick everywhere

your father snorts when you get home that night, and there's dark red lipstick smudged all over your lips and a bit down your neck, and you roll your eyes at him with a smile

[darsynia]

Adversarial 1/? (Bucky/Mechanic!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | RO ROLL MASTERLIST | gif by @dailybuckybarnes

Summary: The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm

Word Count/Warnings: 4,000 | explicit sex

As 2/7 of my birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, adVERsarial is a Soulmate AU 'enemies to lovers' with a brash, outspoken f!reader. Stay tuned for more, and feel free to drop a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list!

Excerpt:

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Adversarial

Your soulmate can go straight to hell.

First of all, your Words are written on your fucking hand, and it almost takes up the whole thing! Who the fuck thought that was okay?

Schools don’t let you cover your hands, did your jerkface soulmate ever think of that? No? Classic.

Oh, and then there are the bullies. So. Many. Bullies. Telling the new kids to come up and say the words to greet you was predictable, but exploiting teachers’ inherent laziness-- ‘but Mrs. DoNothing, I was just reading the words off her hand!’ --was icing on the shit sundae.

You graduated from that hellhole, moved as far away as possible, and got a job that would cover you in gunk so you wouldn’t have to think about your Words every single day.

Now it’s seven years later and your boss asks you to come along on his fancy-ass job at the Avenger Hideout in upstate New York. You’re sure you’ll be kicked to the curb when you meet Stark himself, though. The man is snark incarnate, and you can rarely pass up an opportunity to mouth off.

“‘Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive,’” he quotes, right after the handshake. The smug look on his face is warranted, because working with the Avengers is one of the few times your soulmate words apply to regular life.

“Yeah I’ll stay standing if it’s all the same to you,” you smile, with too many teeth and everything. You usually choose something more spicy, but you really want this job. Besides, Stark’s soulmark words are well known, so you don’t have to speak to history here.

“As long as you keep your death wish to yourself like everyone else in the asylum, we’re cool. Welcome aboard.”

The Avengers Compound is pretty sweet, actually, and your coworkers don’t seem like the typical stooges. It takes almost a month to persuade them that you really do enjoy the dirtiest, toughest jobs, and after that everything is smooth, filthy sailing. It’s always a good day if you end it needing a long, hot shower and half a bottle of degreasing soap.

There’s an iPad mounted within floor-view for people to text you if they need something. It doubles as your personal DJ, so when the sound cuts out, you slide your ass out from underneath the Quinjet you were servicing to find a pair of boots standing next to it. As you rise gracefully (read: clamber) to your feet, their owner speaks.

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Until this point, he’d been holding himself like the soldier that he is, with the same stiff courtesy you’d seen from his rare television appearances. That all falls away, now. Rogers clears his throat, hitting his fisted hand on his chest as though knocking loose his initial impression of you, then extends that hand out for you to shake.

Your eyebrows skyrocket at just how much grease he’ll end up with if he goes through it, but Captain America’s outstretched hand doesn’t waver.

It’s time for you to knock loose your first impression. You give him a respectful nod and grasp his hand firmly. The grip slips as you shake, but you don’t offer any apology, and Rogers doesn’t seem to need one, not even when there’s a squishing sound as you both disengage. You take pity on the man and snag him a blue towel from your workbench.

“So, what do you need that Stark couldn’t Lord it down here and ask for himself?”

The towel is doing nothing. “We’ve got a mission coming up that will involve some repair work mid-way. Refugee camp in the middle of a regional conflict, with aggressors who like to send self-destructive drones to ruin our day. Army thinks it’s cheaper if it’s us, and not them.” He gestures towards your large tool bag. “We’d like to get in, get fixed back up, and get out in a hurry, and Stark says you’re the…” he pauses.

“Say it.”

“‘Gremlin’ for the job,” he says, apologetically offering back the newly-soiled towel with his still-soiled hand.

“Sounds about right. Have his Jeeves give me the details, yeah?” You start whistling as you scooch back down to finish up the job you’d been working on when Rogers had come in. It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of time for him to walk back out, and you count that as a win.

They were… not kidding about the danger of the mission.

The trip out had been unpleasant as hell, gaining you some unwanted on-the-job experience with what it’s like being motion-sick under fire. As expected, the vehicle is hit by two diligent little destructo-bots, but you take care of the first one handily. Getting the second off and its damage mitigated is made more difficult by the urgency in the comms.

The team is on the way with the refugees in tow, and they want to take off as soon as they get back. Doing that with unknown damage is a terrible idea.

“All right, you heat-seeking little bot-barnacle, you ARE coming off, even if I have to pry off a panel of the ship to do it!” you snap, five minutes later. You're bluffing, since can’t even tell if the damned thing’s done any damage or if the sum total of its effect is ‘skewering the hull and sitting there smug as hell about it.’ The team is getting closer and closer, and the pounding of your heart is so loud you can hear it like a drumbeat in your ears.

They turn out to be footfalls, not your heartbeat.

A metal hand appears out of utterly nowhere and grabs the attack drone, ripping it out of the hull and throwing it with enough force to send it a half mile away. You’re left with your mouth hanging open as the owner of the hand (the arm. It’s an arm, and it’s the most gorgeous piece of machinery you’ve ever, ever seen) turns to face you. He’s wearing tactical gear and a sour expression, and every one of your blood vessels have converted themselves to gasoline at the very sight of him.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got, soldier,” you quip.

His face twists into fierce fury as he points to the ramp leading into the Quinjet. “Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive.”

For once in your life, you do what you’re told without complaint or combativeness. The phrase ‘internal combustion’ has never been so apt. The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm.

The rest of the team shows up mere seconds later, and from there you’re caught up in the whirlwind of weight balancing, choosing what to ditch to fit every last person in the vehicle. For a few crazy minutes, it seems your grouchy soulmate might be left behind to fend for himself (you have no idea who he is, but you’re completely certain this man could wipe out the entire platoon that Rogers says is heading their way), but you and Stark figure out an overspeed hack that can work for just long enough to get somewhere safe.

You’re too busy keeping your ride in the air to think about anything else, and once you’re all back on solid ground, disembarking is a madhouse. You and Stark are the last two off the thing. He flips up his helmet and gives you one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“Great job today. Forgot to tell you Barnes was with us for this one.”

“Barnes?” you ask, distractedly running your calloused fingers over the rift where the perfect man had pulled out the drone. It looks like a patch might work, rather than having to get a piece machined. 

“James 'Bucky' Barnes. The Vodka Popsicle?” Stark comes over and makes a show of frowning at the way you’re just shrugging. “See, if you were fun, you’d be pretending you have no idea so you can milk me of all the good nicknames.”

The soulmate thing is burning a fuse in the back of your mind, and you don’t have enough left in your tank to banter. “I really don’t know, Motor Mouth. I just kept my head down and did my job.”

You smack the hull of the Quinjet and start toward the elevator bank, secretly pleased with your own stupid nickname. ‘Barnes’ sounds familiar, but you can’t place the name.

“Come on, CS, you had to have seen his arm!”

This stops you in your tracks so quickly you can almost hear the record scratch sound. Right at that moment, you realize where you heard the name Bucky Barnes: in your high school history class! This has to be fake, some stupid Superhero hazing or something.

You spin on your heel, about to accuse Stark of only remembering the name because he had a hot teacher that day, but at the very last minute you remember his father was a WWII war hero. Fine, you can go with 'snark overload' instead. “Friend of your dad’s, then? What happened? Time machine?”

“Fascist Russian trauma, actually,” he says, herding you into the elevator. “JARVIS, can you take over? I need to fly home to the Missus.”

“Wait, Stark--” He’s in the air before you can finish objecting.

One enlightening elevator ride later, you make your way to your workshop in a trance. This whole thing is a coincidence. It has to be. The man has gone through hell, vanquished hell, joined its army only to claw his way out... and his reward is what?

You?

“Took you long enough,” a voice says from the darkest corner of the space. You don’t have to guess who it is. There’s only one person it could be.

“That’s funny as hell in context, you know that?” Shit. Even to your own ears, you sound defensive. “Look,” you rush to add. “I picked this job to keep my Words to myself as much as possible, and I’ll keep doing that. I don’t want anything from you.”

You’re lying. You want a look at his arm like you want coffee in the morning, like you want air in your lungs after a brutal run. If he were anyone else you’d be planning a charm offensive, and you’re not what most people would describe as charming.

“One problem,” Barnes says, stepping out of the shadows with his flesh hand outstretched toward you. It’s so cinematic you forget he’s basically danger incarnate-- and then he makes contact.

Pleasure sizzles up from his grip on your wrist, skin to skin, soul to soul. It’s mind-numbing in the same way as the aftermath of an orgasm, so similar that you stumble a little bit when he lets go only seconds later. You’ve only read about Sensitivity or seen it depicted in movies, and neither did the full glory of it justice.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t look affected at all. “Yeah. One hell of a weakness.” 

You go from shaken to pissed faster than the Quinjet hits cruise speed. “Get the fuck out, then! My workshop is invite only.”

“Is that right?” Barnes asks, insultingly unphased. Your arms are crossed, and he just glares right into your eyes and taps one perfectly articulated metal finger on the newly silver Words on your hand. “Stark’s AI updated our medical files. If you’re unconscious, this gets me into your hospital room. That’s invitation enough.”

Fucking great. “Well, either knock me out or fuck off, then, Barnes. I have work left to do.” Your gut is twisted metal right now, jagged and raw from disappointment and desperation. This man is a legend, a warrior with a marvel of machinery for an arm and a past that would make the devil blush. He doesn't want you, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. With misery staining your heart black as old oil, you stalk over to the nearest workbench before he can tell how upset you are. 

“It’s not personal,” he says flatly.

Soulmate words are as personal as it gets, which means he’s saying it to fire you up. You won’t rise to the bait. Most people are uncomfortable with silence, but you use it as a weapon. The minutes tick by as you clean off the work table, with no other sound than the clink of metal on metal and the slide of heavy tools on the hard, solid surface. 

Soon, all that’s left is a bucket half full of sand. At least this is simple and easy to understand; a cheap, abundant material used for friction, stability, and sometimes even a mold to pour hot metal into. As you burn away your fury with your impossible soulmate staring silent holes into your back, you wonder whether you’re half as valuable to him as this.

“Look. I don’t want or need--”

You shove the bucket off the side of the work table and spin around, your next words practically exploding out of your chest. “You think I don’t know that? I get it. I’m nobody. Neither of us want--” He’s advancing on you and you hop up onto the surface of the workbench, primed to kick, scratch, and scream if he tries to melt your brain again with your goddamned soulmate connection. 

“Jesus. Just-- stay inside, will you?”

With those cryptic words, Bucky Barnes walks out.

You’re speechless, and the worst part is how much your body is craving the glorious, drugging feeling of his touch on your skin.

JARVIS calls out your name just as you force yourself to assess the sand mess you’ve tantrumed everywhere. Your ‘what?’ is as short and annoyed as you can make it.

I thought you ought to know that Sergeant Barnes spent his time after leaving the Quinjet checking on your safety. He requested I adjust the camera angle to more fully catch the doorway to your room, requested the visitor logs--

“Which you denied, yes? Yes?” you snap, gripping the broom handle like it’s your soulmate’s neck.

Of course. Despite his assertion, mutual consent is required for such things, barring a formal, legal relationship.

“For the record, it’s bullshit that it took until 1973 for that.”

I heartily agree. As I was saying, Sgt. Barnes took it upon himself to--

“Blah blah safety, you win the award for meddling, JARVIS, but what I really need from you is a magical ability to clean up this mess.”

Deepest apologies, but there is a purpose to this endeavor. The door to your suite did not meet Sgt. Barnes expectations, regarding your safety on-site.

“What the hell are you-- Wait.” You drop the broom and head out, speaking angrily up at the ceiling as you stalk down the hallway. “Tell me there’s still a door there, JARVIS.”

I’m afraid I cannot.

“Yeah, you should be afraid!” you hiss. “Tell me where he is or I’ll take a blowtorch to the wiring in the server room.”

Stark’s damned AI doesn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. 

I see why some say you have a fiery temper. Sgt. Barnes is in one of the basement sparring rooms. Shall I arrange for an elevator?

“I’ll walk, thanks.”

The bank of exercise rooms is open to everyone on campus, and the doors only close when there’s someone in there. That makes it easy to figure out where to knock.

The door swings open, and your mouth runs dry.

Barnes is sweaty, wearing only a black tank and tight pants, and the harsh hallway light glistens on the metal of his arm. You’re completely certain that touching it will feel just as good as the skin-to-skin contact earlier. You drift forward, captivated, and the door shuts behind you. The clicking sound brings you back to furious reality.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “You. Owe. Me. A. Door.”

He scoffs silently, looking you up and down as if gauging how little effort he’d have to expend against you in a fight. “Stark owes you a door. I just proved that.”

“What the fuck gives you the right--”

Barnes interrupts not with words, but with quick, jerky movements at his waist, unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving. He slaps the flat of his palm against the Words on his bare thigh and says, “This. Every single woman I came in contact with was in danger. You’re not secure here.” He strips the pants off completely and throws them into the corner of the room before advancing on you, somehow just as menacing in briefs and a tank. “Not until we get this out of our systems.”

He’s lithe as a cat, and you’re only able to stumble back a few inches and scrunch your eyes shut before he encircles your wrist with one hand. 

The cool metal is soothing despite being inexorable. You suck in a surprised breath and open your eyes just in time to watch the clever shit that is your soulmate dip his head to kiss you.

The pleasure is sudden and devastating. Your heart seizes up, stutters, and starts sending napalm through your veins as he walks you back against the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours. If each touch is a contact high, these kisses are full-throttle erotic warfare, with your brain offline and your hindbrain keening. You 'fight back' with everything you have, fingernails scratching at the back of his neck, teeth grazing his inner lip, all with your Words pulsing encouragement on the back of your hand.

If you’re not careful, this soulmate bond will acid-etch the narcotic joy of this moment right into your heart.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Barnes lets out a deep groan and pulls back to look you directly in the eyes. “This is a strategy, not a relationship.”

You’re touch-drunk, but you’re not in love. “Look, Deathsquad, I only want you for your arm.”

Barnes’ smile is like the sun coming up, damn him. “Fuck me enough to get past Sensitivity and I’ll let you have a whole afternoon with it.” As if to emphasize how much you’d both enjoy that plan, he slides his flesh hand past your waistband and grabs your ass, holding you steady for the twist of his hips.

Your smarts are offline, your lungs are at half capacity, your cunt is criminally empty, and you fully understand how people end up falling for stranger soulmates, if this is what Sensitivity does to a person. 

“Fine,” you snap, hoping to hell you sound less needy than you feel.

The two of you glare at each other for a charged second, and then there’s a race to strip the rest of your clothes off. Not even sixty whole seconds later you’re kneeling on a thick floor mat, more nervous and excited than you’ve ever been in your life, damn him. Barnes comes up behind to set a warm, drugging hand on your hip, and then it’s bliss, sexual rapture from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” he rasps into your ear, his right hand coming down hard on the mat beside you as he curls over and into you. “Perfect,” Barnes breathes, the word almost a whine, like he’d tried to hold it back and couldn’t. 

You’re almost at white-out, already seconds away from the kind of orgasm that rearranges a girl’s blood chemistry, but you can’t let this one go. Arching your back and leaning to the side, you rock your hips in a cadence that unbalances the two of you just enough to force him to brace with his left, instead. You’re moaning insult-adjacent nonsense syllables now, but you gather enough willpower to clutch his metal hand with your marked one.

“Now it’s perfect,” you grit out.

Barnes’ sexy chuckle in your ear sends you into a black-out orgasm for the ages.

You wake up alone, which feels like a statement, but you notice when you roll over that you’re not sticky. The clothes you’d torn off and thrown in wild abandon are folded next to you, too. You scramble to put them on, stepping curiously into the shared adjoining bathroom to find a wet washcloth draped over the towel rack and a sticky note marked with a large B on the mirror.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole,” you mutter as you snatch it off.

Crankshaft:  Don’t get sentimental on me.  Wednesday at 4? B

The words are printed, even the B, meaning that while you laid there naked and insensate, he’d gone and printed something out instead of just waking you up. On top of that outrage, someone’s told him your nickname, which for some stupid reason feels more intimate than anything that just happened. It’s something that’s just yours, not influenced by stupid-ass destiny genetics, and if he tries to use it verbally, you’ll… you’ll… You sigh. There’s not one thing you can do to influence this guy, except possibly make him angry that you exist at all.

One big Sensitivity-struck security risk, that’s what you are.

You’re about to crumple up the note when you see it’s got something else hand drawn on the back, a sequence of numbers and letters in a jagged sort of rectangle. The shape looks familiar, but you’re sated and stupid after however long without caffeine. You gather up your things and make the walk of shame back to your apartment, realizing when you’re almost there that the fucking door is probably still missing.

It’s not. There’s already a brand-new door there, and on it is another sticky note. This one’s just the hand drawn shape and accompanying symbols. You snatch it up and go inside, vindictively locking the door with both locks until you remember Barnes’ whole thing about safety.

With a sour feeling in your stomach from doing exactly what he’d want you to, you lay both notes down to examine the shapes, finally sketching them out on a third piece of paper.

The numbers and letters work out to be a room and floor number, probably for his rooms here at the compound

Combined, the shapes look just like the plating for his metal arm

You refuse to be taken in by this, even if it is right up your alley.

“JARVIS?”

At your service, Miss.

“Will you locate a small, neutral space for a… meeting between myself and Sgt. Barnes tomorrow at four, and let both of us know the location once you’re finished?” There’s no way in hell you’re doing anything that even hints at girlfriend behavior with this guy, so no bedrooms. What’s between you is literally just biology, nothing more.

If you insist.

“I do. And don’t use my nickname with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The singing in your veins makes a good opposing argument, but that’s just biology again, and you won’t be swayed by it. The only thing you’ll be swayed by is his marvel of arm engineering. Everything else is just window dressing to help get you through the absurd pleasure-bond shit that comes with soulmate biology.

You skip dinner and go to bed early, dreaming all night of the purr of Barnes’ muscles over and against you, the gravel-drag of his stubble on your skin, and the hum of an engine starting to rev.

to be continued...

[justwinginglife]

Operation Rescue Hoshina aka The Runaway Boyfriend

Inspired by ideas from @adaizel based off of a fic that I wrote where Hoshina tries to avoid reader by running off doing other missions with other divisions and the reader says she'll drag his ass back if she finds him doing it again. Thanks again for the ideas and the enthusiasm. Also this will be NSFW as fuck and this will be longer than my usual fics so buckle up!

When you find the office of the Vice Captain is empty yet again, his stupid chair swiveling like he just had the idea to up and run, you groan. Hoshina loved doing this to you. He loved picking a Division, any division at all, and running away to them under the guise of helping with their missions. He loved to see how long it would take you to find him and come running, yelling profanities at him. He thought it was sexy. And he loved to see just how far he could push you.

It was a little game the two of you would play, and sometimes you were amused and sometimes you weren't.

Today you weren't. You were supposed to be having a meeting with him to talk about new training protocols for the Third Division and here he was fucking around god knows where on a random ass Tuesday, knowing damn well he has loads of paperwork to do. You knew you should have told him Captain Ashiro would be at the meeting too, he'd never mess around if it was the Captain. You were his sole target for teasing.

"Which fucking division are you in now Soshiro??" You grumble to yourself, flipping through papers on his desk, and opening drawers trying to see if he left you some sort of clue. You found nothing and you thought you might have to journey all over Japan to find him, when you got a text on your phone.

Come pick up my idiot brother, please. He's driving me crazy.

You scoff at your phone. Well this was a new one. Looks like he was in the Sixth Division today.

When I get there, I'm going to kick his ass so hard he lands in America.

You suit up and take your motorcycle. He hates when you make him ride on the back of your bike (he claims you drive like a crazy person and his sensitive stomach can't take it) but you don't give a shit right now. You just want the fastest way to get to him, and with this mode of transport you can duck and weave in between cars.

You arrive at the scene of Hoshina's soon to be murder, revving your engine as you spin in circles making donuts on the pavement and sputtering smoke into the air.

You pull out your megaphone from your bag. You had to buy a megaphone at this point.

"SOSHIRO FUCKING HOSHINA! IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOURSELF IN TWO SECONDS I WILL SNAP YOUR SWORDS IN HALF AND SHOVE THEM WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!" You bellow loudly through the speaker.

The onlooking officers wince and move aside, making way for a very embarrassed Soshiro to step through.

"Hi baby." He says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he slowly walks towards you.

"PICK UP THE PACE SOLDIER!" You yell as though he doesn't outrank you.

He sighs and starts jogging to you.

"Little much today, don't you think, love?" He asks as he approaches you.

You raise an eyebrow, daring him to challenge you, and he holds both his hands up in surrender.

He grins. "I mean, it was sexy and all." Then he cocks his head at your ride. "But did you have to bring the damn bike?"

You smirk at that. "If you didn't want to ride on my bike you shouldn't have run away, dumbass."

He groans, already clutching at his stomach. "Please don't drive crazy."

You wink at him. "Shall we do some off-roading? Just for you baby?"

He rolls his eyes and hops on the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around your waist. Then he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your neck. "Hey. We haven't had a date this week yet, and I saw this cute lil diner on the way in. Dinner on me, baby?"

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. This was the one thing you liked about his stupid, wild antics. He'd treat you to anything in whatever city you found yourselves in. "Dinner... and I saw a shopping mall on the way over. Buy me something nice."

He chuckles and snuggles up against you. "Deal baby."

And that was Tuesday. But then came Saturday and Saturday was a whole different beast. It was you and Hoshina's day off and you had been snuggled up in bed with him when he said he wanted to go for a walk, you were still sleepy so you waved him off and he said he'd be back soon. That was three hours ago.

Ughhhh, why's he doing this to me on a Saturday? You groan and throw on your combat suit. You've got your knives tucked in place all over your suit and guns prepared when you hear a knock at the door. That better be him, you think to yourself.

You open the door and it's a woman. You blink. She blinks.

"I'm looking for Soshiro?" She asks.

Your eyes narrow. "Who wants to know?" And who the fuck is using his first name so comfortably.

"I'm his girlfriend." She says snootily.

You throw your head back and laugh once, then you stand up straight, cracking your shoulders and your knuckles. You glare down at her. "That's funny. Because I'm his girlfriend."

She clears her throat. "Well I'm his ex-girlfriend," She corrects herself like it's a simple mistake.

Bitch. You didn't just misspeak, you were trying to have something over me, you think to yourself. "And what the fuck are you doing visiting his place, ex-girlfriend?" You emphasize ex as you step closer to her, towering over her and causing her to back up one step. But she holds her ground and refuses to back up any further.

"Just wanted to see if he missed me, that's all." She says simply and you're pissed off by her honesty. Like she's not threatened by you.

"Be a good girl and tell him I said hi, yeah?" She smirks.

Your fists clench. "Darling, I don't know if you know this, but these apartments are owned by the Defense Force and I'm the Third Division's Platoon Leader so I say you're trespassing. If I see you around here one more time, if you even breathe anywhere near my boyfriend, I will personally grab you by your shitty extensions and drag you off the grounds myself. Is that crystal fucking clear?" You make a point of pulling your gun out, though you know it's an immature move.

She raises an eyebrow but then rolls her eyes and backs off. "I see Soshiro still likes them crazy." Then she walks off and leaves you alone with your thoughts. You watch as her figure recedes, biting into your lip until it bleeds.

What a fucking awful way to spend your Saturday.

You need to shoot something. You open your phone to find the tracking app (you'd finally decided you needed to install some way to trace Soshiro easier), and find he's in the First Division today.

"Sorry Narumi, I'm about to break your fucking door down." You snatch your keys (honestly- you almost rip the whole ass hook off the wall trying to grab them) and get in your car (you think it might be too dangerous to be driving pissed off on a motorcycle). You slam on the gas, the smell of burning rubber filling the air, and you speed off.

When you arrive, you thank god there's an actual kaiju attack. If you didn't have something to kill, you might've strangled Soshiro himself. In fact, you might kill the kaiju and strangle him anyway.

Now the First Division officers see you pull up and they start to groan, looking around at each other nervously. Soshiro runs away to the First Division more than any other division because he knows it'll annoy the shit out of Narumi to have the two of you causing chaos in his city (kill two birds with one stone right?), so these officers know you almost as well as the Third Division at this point. Or at least they thought they did, but today you were a whole different level of frenzied and furious and they were not immune to the fear that followed.

You don't even look at them, and they start to breathe again, thinking they're safe. Then you jump on the head of the nearest kaiju and start pummeling it with your fists until it's pulp. The officers gulp. You usually use your gun and give the kaiju's a quick death- less chance of them hurting anyone else if they die quicker, you'd say. But apparently today you weren't thinking about mercy or efficiency.

When your fists finally start to get tired, you pull out your gun and start rapidly blasting any beast that dares come near you. Then, once you've cleared out most of the kaiju, you start to go for the big one. That's where Narumi and Soshiro are currently held up. Narumi rolls his eyes as you jog up to them and Soshiro grins.

"Hey baby!" He calls to you.

"A fucking walk? Huh, Soshiro? A walk?" You spit out.

He shrugs, still grinning from ear to ear. "It was a long walk, what can I say?"

"You went for a walk in your goddamn combat suit? To the First Fucking Division??" You demand, punching him in the arm.

He senses you're a different kind of mad today but he can't quite figure out why. He watches you intently, trying to piece it together.

You know he's trying to figure you out so you make it easy for him. "Met your bitch ass ex girlfriend today. You know, the one you failed to mention you had."

He coughs. "You met Tsumi?"

Hearing her name, knowing that he knows who you're talking about, pisses you off even more. You punch his other arm and he winces.

"You ladies wanna take this conversation elsewhere? I'm kinda busy here." Narumi says, still shooting at the Honju.

"Actually, I think I'm good right where I'm at." You charge headfirst towards the Honju, while Narumi and Soshiro gape at you. You run at it, shooting anywhere that looks like a soft spot but to no avail. You're glad the Honju isn't easy to kill though- you don't want it to be.

"Guess I'll have to use these." You pull out Soshiro's swords and he spins around wondering when you took them from him. You slash at the beasts legs, arms, chest, neck. You just want to slash at something, anything at this point.

Be a good girl and tell him I said hi, yeah?

You hear her stupid fucking voice in your head and you keep slashing and slashing until you you realize the Honju has been long dead and the officers of the First Division are gathered around you, staring.

You wipe the blood from your face. "Soshiro. We're going home. NOW." You drop his swords to the floor with a clang and he winces at the sound. He collects them quickly and follows you to the car, waving bye to the other officers before he gets in.

You drive home, intending to spend the time in silence but Soshiro has other ideas.

"Does it help if I say you were really sexy back there?"

You're silent.

"Hey, I saw this really cool movie theater we could try. It's got luxury seats and a full bar."

Still silent.

"Baby. Come on. Are you really mad at me? For real? I don't even get a date?"

You glare at him and then turn back to face the road. "Why don't you take Tsumi on a date?"

You can almost hear his stupid cheeky grin. "Ahhh. I see. Someone's jealous. So sexy."

You punch his arm again in the same spot you'd hit earlier. "Hey! You're gonna bruise my beautiful arms, ya know!"

"I'm aiming to."

He scoffs. He's quiet for a moment. Then he daringly says, "I bet Tsumi wouldn't do this to me."

You slam on the brakes.

You peer out the window and it looks like you're near a motel. You drag his ass out of the car and book the two of you a room at the front desk before dragging him to said room.

He smirks. "Little mini vacation? Is that what's going on right now?"

"Get undressed." You demand.

He licks his lips at the sudden order. Though caught off guard by this random excursion of yours, he goes along with it. "Yes ma'am." He starts to strip and for a moment, you get distracted by the ripple of his muscles tight against his body. Then when he's fully naked in front of you, you back him towards the bed. He allows you to, thinking you're here to reward his bad behavior. You're not.

You pull out some handcuffs and shackle him to the bed frame, to his surprise. You start to walk away and the smirk drops from his face as he starts to think that maybe you're going to leave him here in some random motel on the side of the road.

"Hey! Hey wait! Baby, where are you going? Baby, talk to me! You can't leave me here!"

You tsk at him, waving a finger in front of his face. "Be a good boy and sit still, I'll be right back." You tighten his cuffs, sending a slight jolt of pain into his wrists. He gulps.

You leave the room and go grab some things from the car.

When you come back you wrap a blindfold around him and he flinches.

"Wh-what's going on? Baby?" He asks, uncertain for the first time all day.

You nuzzle against his ear and bite the lobe, pulling slightly. He inhales sharply. "I'm going to teach you to behave yourself." You say in a low growl. He shivers.

You pull your whip out and start running it up one of his calves. His breath hitches in his throat. You wrap a hand around his throat, applying slight pressure around it. Before he can get used to the sensation, you drag the whip up and slap it down on his thigh. He gasps at the little taste of pain that's searing his leg, but you know he loves it.

"Tell me... does Tsumi make you feel like this?" You whisper in his ear, this time licking up the curve of it.

He swallows. "N-no baby... only you do." His words are meek and they sound so delicious to you.

"That's a good boy." You whip his other thigh and he groans this time, his cock engorging at the feeling. You lightly drag the whip across his dick, causing it to twitch. He lifts his hips and arches into it, wanting more.

"You want this baby?" You start to drag the whip up his defined abdomen and across his chest. He nods quickly. You smirk at his eagerness. You run the whip down the length of his arm and flick it hard against his forearm.

He groans and bites his lip.

You pull on his bottom lip, and his teeth release it. "No biting, love. That's just for me." You lean forward and bite his lower lip, tugging on it gently before releasing.

"Fuck." He whispers.

"Watch your language baby. I might just have to punish you for that."

"So punish me," He says, breathless.

You lick your lips at his pleading. The sight of him laid bare for you, desperate for your attention, was such a pretty picture. The Vice Captain of the Third Division, all flushed and panting, precum seeping from his throbbing cock. All because you touched him a little.

You thought you'd reward him a little. You trace your tongue up his thigh, lapping at the red welt on his skin. He throws his head back against the bedframe, soaking in the feeling of your wetness on his skin. You grab his balls in one hand and squeeze as you drag your tongue up the length of his bulging erection. You nip at his tip a little and then, before he can react, you deep throat him.

He hits the back of your throat and he inhales sharply. Your mouth tightens around him, coating him thoroughly in your saliva as you suck harder. Then, right as he thinks he might cum, you pull back. He swears and you almost laugh. His legs are shaking now and he bucks at the air, trying to get some relief. You press two hands down tightly on his thighs, shoving him back into the mattress.

"Not yet. You cum when I say you can. Got that?"

He whimpers as more precum trickles out of him.

You place a cock ring at his base and he groans. "You're going to tease the shit out of me until I'm begging for it, huh?"

"You got that right baby."

You click a leash around his neck and uncuff him from the bed. You tug on the leash, pulling him towards you and meeting his lips for a sloppy kiss. Then you withdraw from him, leaving him hungry for more, and you push him down flat against the bedsheets.

He tries to get up, reaching for your face to snag another kiss, but you shove him back down. "Such a bad boy. You only do what I tell you to, got that?" You flick the whip at his thigh again.

He shudders. "Yes baby. Anything you say baby."

Then you pull out your prostate massager and, after lubing it up thoroughly, you slowly side it inside him causing him to gasp. Then you turn it on to a low setting and watch as he twitches, moans escaping his beautiful lips.

"I'm not done with you yet love." While that's running, you grab a vibrating wand and turn it on. It rumbles against the base of his cock, causing him to tremble.

"Fuck." He whimpers.

"What did I say about your language baby? Seems someone hasn't learned their lesson." You turn the settings up on the wand and trace it up his length, earning another groan from him. His precum starts to pump ferociously as the wand reaches his tip. He's starting to overload, unable to keep up with the vibrations coming from both ends of him. He can't tell if he should focus more on the delicious pressure up against his prostate or the rumbling across his dripping tip.

"Now, tell me again. What is Tsumi to you?"

"Nothing. She's nothing." He gasps out.

"And what am I?"

"Everything. You're everything baby." His moans come out low and guttural.

"Good boy. Now tell me, are you going to run away from me again? You know we've got important work to be doing at the Third Division."

He bites his lip.

You sigh. "I see. Still haven't learned your lesson then. Alright, I can go at this all night, let's see how much you can take."

You turn the settings up to max on both devices.

He jolts so quickly he chokes on his spit, the saliva drizzling down his chin, as he clenches the sheets hard. "B-baby! B-baby, p-please!" His words are frantic as they stumble out of his mouth. He chokes back a sob as you press the wand harder against him.

"Th-that's t-too m-much... ah fuck!"

He ejaculates wildly, his hips bucking from the sheer force of it, as hot milky cum spurts out of him in erratic bursts, dousing you. He's still shuddering from his violent orgasm when you've finally turned off the toys and pulled them away from him.

His breathing is ragged and shaky, and sweat from his forehead starts to trickle down and cloud his view.

"S-so we're all good now, r-right?" He asks weakly.

You smirk at him, feeling smug.

"For now."

[ashprompts]

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

a collection of sentence starters from dropout tv's game changer. feel free to alter pronouns/text as you see fit

“I’ve been here THE WHOLE TIME”

“It’s hard to hold this much anger in my body.” 

“If you never hear from me again, you know what to do!.”

“If they don’t find me it’s because I was chopped up and fed to the pigs!”

“I SOLVED YOUR LABYRINTH, PUZZLEMASTER. THE MINOTAUR’S ESCAPED, AND YOU’RE GONNA GET THE HORNS, BUDDY”

“I. CANNOT. WIN!!!!”

“A lot of people have been saying that ___ is a singularly evil, wildly incompetent, befuddled nepo baby silver spoon motherfucker. This is what people are saying.” 

“If you can do ONE swing on the swing I will let you play with all the math puzzles that you want” 

“You’re not getting a FUCKING JOKE OUT OF ME until you let me out of this room! You want bits?! You let me out of this room for bits, motherfucker!”

“Are we gonna die before we get outta here?” 

“I’m gonna lose so fucking hard it’s gonna blow your fucking mind”

“But in this sick rodeo, this bizarre fucked up clown festival, we’re here celebrating what I can only describe as the sickness at the core of America.” 

“Give me the assignment and I don’t miss. I’m gonna DIE before this is over.”

“Your tower’s gonna fall. Laugh it up now.” 

“A river of sweat is running down my back right now.”

“I do hate zombies and I will have nightmares about this tonight. But in this moment I just feel like I’m surrounded by friends.” 

“We don’t give a cum.”

“If you’re in a hole, DYING. I WON’T BE THERE.”

“I showed them my feet, [name]! I SHOWED THEM MY FEET FOR NOTHING?”

“Stop shaking your cock in the middle of a fucking huddle, dude!”

“I’d fuck that pie.”

“If you’re like me, you eat a lot of ass.”

“I hate capitalism but I also hate losing.”

“I get my tongue so far up somebody it’s like I’m tasting their tonsils. I get so deep in there I’m gonna burn myself with stomach acid.”

“I like perching like a little bisexual gargoyle”

“If you were performing on a subway I would take money away from you.”

“I’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN TO PULL THE THREAD ON THIS SWEATER.”

“Icarus flying too close to the sun, but it seems Daedalus our little mastercrafter over here had some WAX WINGS OF HIS OWN, didn’t he? Wanted to see his son fall, faaaalll from the sky, OH HOW CLOSE TO THE SUN HE FLEW”

“Hey can I get an ah? … Don’t scream at me.” 

“You kinda have the vibe that your kids call you by your first name.”

“The day I DON’T curse when a body falls from the sky, call somebody.”

“Could I place an order? I’m hungie. What do you think would be the best pizza to order if I’m quite hungie? Um, I like cheese, what is your largest pizza? Yeah let’s get an extra large because I’m hungie. I’m hungie, I’m hungie, I’m hungie.” 

“WE ARE NOT ANIMALS!!!”

“So long as I am on this stage and drawing breath, you can good and goddamn believe I’ll be trying my best in every challenge.”

“Was it bad that we just started smashing shit?” 

“You didn't count on INGENUITY did you motherfucker?!”

“FIGHT THE BOURGEOISIE. I WILL VENMO YOU $20.” 

“This could be hell. This is very Satre-esque.”

“YOU ARE NOT GOD. THE MACHINE IS GOD.”

“Can you tell us why you’d do this to us?”

“I won’t be made a fool”

“I do feel like I’m in a nightmare”

“I’m the only one OUT of the loop it seems”

“Everybody do the wenis! The wenis is a dance! Everybody is a genius! Who knows it in advance!” 

"DANCE IS A SIN!"

"You think I'm gonna fucking roll over?!"

"It'll be a COLD DAY IN HELL when I go out like a fucking chump!"

"I don't care about winning, I just don't wanna lose"

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Five

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,776

The smell of coffee enticed you as you were nudged awake. Opening your eyes, you saw Dean standing over you, a steaming mug in hand, wearing a bemused expression. From where he stood, you had slid down the couch arm in the night, legs akimbo, sticking out over the other couch arm, the fluffy socks a reason for his bemusement.

You must’ve slept at a funny angle cause your neck felt stiff as Hell. You struggled to sit up but managed, shifting the blanket so Dean could sit if he wanted to. You swiped a hand down your face, knuckles rubbing the sleep out of your eyes until you saw stars.

“Captain America, boot you out or something?”

You shook your head and accepted the mug from him.

“Ben snores like a Mack truck.”

“Ahh.”

He sat beside you, wearing the clothes he came in, minus his jacket.

“Well, Beau’s in the kitchen cooking up a storm. Hope you don’t mind. I saw you had a coffee maker. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t wake up after all the noise it made. I was convinced you would. Beau checked on you, too. Said you were still sound asleep.” He chuckled lightly and waited expectantly.

Figures. You could sleep through a noisy coffee machine, but not Ben’s snoring.

You stared at the mug in your hands. God, it smelled so good. He reminded you of a kid who just wanted to impress their parents. He held the same energy. A pent-up kind of excitement. You brought the mug to your lips and sipped.

Holy fuck.

That was the best coffee you’ve ever tasted. Not too sweet, not too bitter and heated to perfection. Your tastebuds rejoiced in the flavour.

“Oh, shit.” You whispered.

“Good, right?”

He looked so proud of himself, so happy. And he had a right to be. You savoured the taste, closing your eyes. You’d tried with that coffee maker, but whoever designed it had made it as complicated as possible. You’d given up, pushing it to the back of the cupboard, leaving it to gather dust. You’d forgotten about it, lying to your then mother-in-law, who had gifted it to you and your husband as a wedding gift.

“Well, I’ll let you—yep.”

He slapped his thighs, stood up and left you alone with your coffee.

The warmth from the mug seeped to your core. Your ankles ached from exposure to the cold, and your back twinged from sleeping on the couch, but the coffee made up for it.

You heard Dean and Beau’s deep tones and laughter from the kitchen. Whatever Beau was doing, it smelt good. And it seemed that Dean and Beau were getting along. You could only hope that Ben would join their camaraderie.

Heavy footsteps thudded downstairs, pulling you from your thoughts, stopping you from checking on the two men in the kitchen.

Ben emerged wearing only his boxers. How did he manage to still look so good? His hair wasn’t exactly flawless, but it looked better than yours. Yours resembled a bird’s nest, but his made him look even sexier. It wasn’t fair, and it had you thinking. What would he look like after sex?

“You look like shit, y’know that?”

He sauntered in and took the seat beside you. He noted the mug in your hands and brazenly took it, downing the contents as you stared at him in shock.

“Fuck. That’s some good coffee, sweetcheeks.”

The audacity of this man was something else. And it only got worse. He handed back the empty mug and stood. He scratched his balls right in your eyesight, stretched, then tapped your knee.

“C’mon, getchur ass in the kitchen, I’m starvin’.”

All you could do was sit and stare at him, mug almost hanging from your hand. You blinked.

“Doll, if you don’t close your mouth, I’ll put it to good use.”

You clamped your mouth shut. Your brows bunched together in irritation, and you stood.

“Don’t talk to me like that. And you owe me a coffee.”

You barged past him, purposefully bumping into his arm on your way to the kitchen.

“Hey!” He barked.

You opened the kitchen door. Beau was at the stove, and Dean sat at your table, mug in hand.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me, lady!”

A hand gripped your arm, swinging you around to face Ben. A chair scraped behind you.

“Hey, why don’t you cool it and step away, Marlboro Man?”

 “Fuck you, lumberjack.”

“Hey, hey!”

Beau’s deep shout reverberated around the room. You turned to see Beau standing at the stove, apron on, and wielding a spatula.

“Enough of the language, it’s too damn early to be fighting and yelling. Now let go of our host’s arm and put some damn clothes on.”

That shut him up. And you. And Dean. Ben let go of your arm and stormed away, back down the short hallway leading to the stairs. He disappeared up them.

You rubbed your arm and sat down, placing the empty mug on the table. Dean huffed, and you heard him mumble, “Ain’t no lumberjack…”

He sat pouting like a little kid. It was kinda cute, and your heart twinged. How could a grown-ass man make you feel like this? You wanted to put your arms around him and comfort him.

Then, as you were sitting there, it occurred to you that you hadn’t had a chance to tell them your name due to last night’s craziness. The thought never even occurred.

“I should probably tell you my name, huh?”

Dean snorted, instantly perking up.

“That would be nice. Finally, put a name to a face since you know ours.”

Dean gave you one of his award-winning grins, along with a cheeky wink. Then he downed the rest of his coffee and placed the mug on the side.

“I should probably wait until Ben’s back down, right?”

“Why? You don’t know how long he’s gonna be. How do you like your eggs?” Beau inquired.

“Scrambled. Please.” You added the pleasantry, remembering that he was the guest. “You didn’t have to do this, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Force o’ habit, I suppose. And Dean here was figuring out the coffee machine.” Beau said over his shoulder as he cracked a few eggs and whisked them in a bowl.

“Thing had a ton of dust, like, covered.”

“I couldn’t figure it out.” You admitted.

“Well, I’ll show you sometime…uh.”

“Y/N.” You finished for him.

“Y/N.”

The soft timbre of his voice gave your belly flutters. Oh, you could definitely get used to hearing your name slip from his lips, addicted even.

After a short wait, Beau placed a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes in front of you, setting your cutlery beside the plate. Holy Hell. Everything looked perfect. Dean rubbed his hands together in glee when Beau placed his plate down. He didn’t take a second to dive in, and then make his approval known. His moan shot down to your core, and your eyes fluttered in shock. It was too damn early. He couldn’t be making you feel this way. Shouldn’t, even.

“Damn, this…. this is…. mmmm.” Dean took another bite, not bothering to finish his thoughts.

You took your cue. The first forkful blew away your mind and tastebuds. And the sound that came from your lips rivalled Dean’s. Both Dean and Beau stopped to stare at you.

“Sorry…but damn…Beau…it’s so good.”

His cheeks turned pink, and he turned around to hide. You heard the spatula scraping against the pan as two more plates were made.

*

Dean, Beau, and Ben congregated in the living room, with you standing before them. Dean wanted to get started on the frames box, deciphering whatever was inscribed. But you had to make a food run and get these boys some clothes besides what they already wore. And as much as you loved them, there was no way in Hell you were letting them stay whilst you went out.

“Okay, if anybody asks, you’re brothers. Triplets, even. Last name, Smith.”

Ben snorted. “Ain’t no one gonna believe that, dollface.”

“And why not?” You demanded, already done with Ben’s antics today. “It’s totally plausible. You three look more like triplets than the set down the road.”

You put your hand to your head. Frustration bunched your muscles and had your jaw tensing.

“Just…get in the damn car.”

You stomped off, snatching the keys off the hook on the wall. You toed your sneakers on and grabbed the bags from the porch. From inside, you heard Dean reprimanding Ben.

“Why you gotta purposely annoy Y/N for? She’s tired, and you irritating her ain’t helping.”

You yawned, stretching your aching shoulders and neck whilst the guys traipsed out. Yanking on the handle, you stepped into the drivers seat. Your car was nothing special, a standard SUV. It was a couple years old, and the odometer was getting upwards of fifty thousand miles.

You rested your forehead on the steering wheel. Dean’s coffee and Beau’s breakfast had sustained you, but it seemed not enough for the task ahead.

“I call shotgun,” Beau exclaimed as he exited your house.

“The fuck you do!” Ben barked out.

“Alright, there’s a simple solution to this. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets the seat.” Dean reasoned.

From your wing mirror, you saw Dean pull the door handle up, successfully locking the door. Then they stood in a circle, and Dean declared on three they reveal. You could only make out Dean’s back and Beau’s side profile. His hair ruffled in the breeze as they stood and played their game.

Ben shouted out, calling bullshit, and stormed off.

The car door opened a moment later, slamming shut as Ben sat in the back. His jaw ticked, obviously stewing from the loss. You couldn’t help but smile. A light chuckle escaping your lips.

“The fuck you laughing at?”

You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just sit in the passenger seat? What they gonna do? Drag you out?”

Ben furrowed his brow. He snorted and shook his head.

“Never damn occurred to me.”

Now you snorted. Figures. But it was too late now. Your passenger side door opened, and Beau heaved himself in beside you. Dean sat beside Ben. 

“Nothing like a good game of rock, paper, scissors.” Beau grinned as he buckled himself in.

“That’s cause you won.” Ben sulked.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be a Debby downer, just cause you lost. Fair and square. You picked rock, and Dean and I chose paper. Them’s the rules.”

“Still bullshit.” Ben mumbled, sulking in his seat, as you started the engine.

Tags:

@curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch

[seriouslysam8]

Because the struggle is real...

I present a sneak peek for Selcouth and my pretty ass banner that I'm obsessed with.

Harry’s part in the conversation ceased as Remus brought up some new Transfiguration theory that had recently been discussed in Transfiguration Today. His eyes roamed around the pub, watching as people drank and laughed and gesticulated sloppily. His eyes stopped on a pretty redhead at the bar. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, whisps of hair falling down on either side of her pale face. She smiled like the setting sun, her entire face lighting up as she chatted with the bartender. 

Harry licked his bottom lip before he drained his beer. “Hey, I’m going to grab another one. Want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Sirius replied.

“No, thank you, Harry,” Remus added.

Harry wiped his fingers across his mouth to ensure there was no foam as he approached the bar. He took a spot next to the redhead and ordered another beer. Slowly, he turned his head to see the redhead looking at him with the corner of her mouth quirked.

“Not very adventurous, huh?” the woman asked, leaning her side into the bar so she could face him.

Harry mimicked her. “Adventurous, yes. Wanting to get so shit-faced that I can’t move in the morning, no.”

The woman furrowed her brow. “That’s a very unique accent.”

Harry chuckled. “I was born in England and then raised in America. It gets muddled sometimes.”

“Ahh, that’s interesting,” the woman replied, brushing her ponytail behind her shoulder. “Born and raised in England. No foreign country interference.”

Harry chuckled as the woman’s drink was sat in front of her. She grabbed it but didn’t move from her spot. Instead, she sipped her drink and looked over the rim of the glass at him.

“What brings you to Wales?” Harry asked, leaning his elbow on the bar.

“Work,” she replied. “You?”

Harry’s face scrunched up. “Uh… helping a family friend,” he settled on saying as his lager was placed in front of him.

“I’m Ginny, by the way,” she introduced himself.

Harry swallowed, knowing he shouldn’t give his real name while in the United Kingdom. “James.”

“So, James, are you here with anyone?” Ginny asked, her eyebrow arching.

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “I’m actually here with my, uh, my dad,” he replied, deciding calling Sirius his dad was easier. “And his old childhood friend,” he added, waving in the direction of the corner table.

Ginny peered around him, her eyes squinting. Harry doubted she could see them. It was dark in the pub.

“How about you?” Harry asked, his thumb brushing along the glass. “Are you here with your, your boyfriend?”

Ginny laughed, her brown eyes sparkling. “No boyfriend. I’m here with my friends,” she explained and pointed to a table in the middle of the pub where there was a good ten girls sitting around the table all ogling at them and making kissy faces, clearly drunk.

“I can, uh, I can let you get back to them, if you want,” Harry said, shifting his weight. “Or, or we can sit at the bar and chat.”

Ginny offered him a sly smile and slid onto the bar seat next to him. She crossed her legs, taking another sip of her drink. Harry’s chest fluttered as he took a sip of his own drink to calm his nerves. He wasn’t the pick up a girl at a pub type of bloke. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of girls he kissed, dated, or slept with.

“So, what do you do?” Ginny asked, cocking her head to the side.

Harry searched her face, feeling very relieved that if he messed up any terminology that he could blame it on living in America too long. “I’m training to be a doctor,” he replied, his brows twitching on the last word and hoping it was correct. “You?”

“I actually play… football,” Ginny replied, offering him an upside-down smile. 

“Do you really?” Harry pressed.

“On an all-girls team,” Ginny continued. “It’s my first year on the team. Well, if you can call it that. I’m on the reserves, so… yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Still impressive,” Harry argued with a soft smile. “And I wish you all the luck in the world.”

[jexnkookie]

BTS: In the Secret (Idol! Jungkook x Reader) [Chapter 4]

Summary: Big Hit announces a new season of In the Soop with a twist; one lucky Army is going to join the members for an entire summer of filming, picked by a random poll. You were selected, and ready to have an amazing summer. But what happens when you win something else that's a bit more complicated; the heart of the group's maknae?

Rating: M (18+)

Chapter Warnings: None.

Tag List: @cassies-cookies @hoeinthehouse @jjeonjjk7 @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @leetha43 @rrosiitas @whoa-jo @1-in-abillion 

The rain tapped gently on the glass of the windows while Jungkook helped you position the large, chunky throw blanket you had brought so that you both could be under it. The room was dim, only lit up by the glow of the television and a lamp in the corner of the room. Your pale pink blanket was draped over Jungkook and yourself while you sat on the couch together, staring at the image of Robert Downey Jr. on the screen. 

There were so many things Jungkook wanted to do in this moment. He wanted to talk to you, to ask you if you had really slept in his sweatshirt all night just like he hoped. He wanted to touch your hand, which increasingly felt as though it had a magnetic pull, enticing his fingers to come closer and intertwine with yours underneath the cover of the blanket. He wanted to pull you in close to him every time he saw your eyelids start to become heavy, and encourage you to lay your head on him and rest. He wanted to know why you were so tired, and if, just maybe, you had stayed up all night thinking about him, too. Just the way he had thought about you. 

Forever an idealist romantic, but too nervous to do anything he fantasized about in his head, he settled for the peacefulness he felt. The rain outside. The blasts of the action movie on the screen. And your presence right next to him, that seemed to drown out all of it. 

“Hey, Jungkook?” You whispered. 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t want to fall asleep, because I really want to hang out with you.” You confessed, looking up at him. “But for some reason, I couldn’t sleep last night… So if I do fall asleep accidentally, I’m really sorry.” 

The smile he wore was warm and gentle, showcasing his dimples and beautiful eyes.

“It’s ok.” He whispered back. “I won’t be mad.” 

“Ok.” You smiled back. Jungkook could get lost in that smile, and he hoped to see it as often as he could. 

“Hey, Y/N?” He whispered, playfully mimicking you. 

“Hm?”  

“Who’s your favorite Marvel superhero?” He asked quietly, and you couldn’t help but grin bigger at his boyish charms. 

“Maybe… Iron Man?” You thought out loud. “He always makes me laugh. What about you?” 

“Black Widow, because she’s hot.” He teased, earning an exasperated eye roll. 

“Shut up, you’re such a guy.” You laughed, playfully ‘slapping’ his toned arm. “But, fine. If we’re going off of that, then my pick is Captain America.” 

“Really? He’s your pick?” Jungkook tsked, overtones of a pout lacing his voice. 

“He has America’s ass, Kookie. C’mon.” You joked. “Be serious.” 

You noticed a change in Jungkook’s features, as though they were somehow able to soften even more than usual. His eyes became even more light, gazing at you gently. His pink lips were still upturned in a smile, and his dimples ever present. 

“I like it when you call me that.” He admitted. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You lightly flirted, just barely testing the waters, earning a grin in return. You both gazed into each other’s eyes, and you wondered if he could hear the loud way your heart was beating. He was beautiful, in every way. Obviously attractive, but beautiful in his silliness. Beautiful in the gentle way he spoke and looked at you. You wanted to lean in, to touch his lips to yours. The way his eyes flicked down to your lips, as well, hinted that maybe, possibly, he wanted the same...

...But suddenly, his phone buzzed, breaking the moment and bringing you both down to Earth. He sighed and mumbled a quick apology, glancing at the text on his phone. 

“It’s one of the staff members. They sent a warning about flooding.” 

“Flooding? Are we in a flood zone?” You asked.

“Not sure.” Jungkook played with his lip ring. “They said there’s a lake nearby and sometimes when it rains, it’s overflows. They just wanted to give us a heads up.” 

“Oh, ok.” You said before letting out a yawn. Jungkook looked up from his phone and saw your tired state as you went back to watching the movie in a desperate attempt to stay awake. 

This attempt failed, and rather quickly. Jungkook noticed you had fallen asleep, just like you didn’t want to do. But he just didn’t have the heart to wake you, especially when you moved in your sleep to rest your head on his shoulder, as though instinctively seeking him out. He refused to move, unable to stop the silly, schoolboy grin on his face while you rested on him. His heart was beating so loud, he was almost surprised it didn’t wake you. 

“Oh, Jungkookie.” A whispered, teasing voice giggled, cutting through the quiet room. Jungkook turned his head to see Hobi, smiling widely at the sight. “Is she asleep?” 

“Yeah.” He whispered back, blushing at being caught. “She just… kinda landed on me? I…I don’t mind though, y’know? Just don’t wanna wake her. s’all” 

Hoseok nodded, looking at the maknae knowingly but choosing not to put him on the spot. Jungkook will be honest the members in his own time, pushing him too much might cause him to run away from them and distance himself from you. He needed to let Jungkook get to know you first, and then encourage him to get closer. But, as it seems, the youngest member is doing quite well at getting closer to you all on his own. 

He then left the room, giving the two of you privacy, which Jungkook internally thanked him for. Fixing himself food in the kitchen, he was briefly interrupted by Taehyung and Jimin who came in for their own lunch. Hobi held a finger to his lips, alerting them to stay quiet, before motioning them into the kitchen. 

“Don’t go into the living room.” He whispered to them, knowing Jungkook can’t hear their conversation over the loud action movie. “Jungkook is in there with Y/N, and I’m giving them privacy.” 

“Privacy?” Jimin smiled suggestively, earning a look from Hoseok. “What’s happening in there?” 

“He’s not ready to admit it yet, because he still hasn’t said anything to her but… Jungkookie has feelings for Y/N.” Hoseok explained, leaning in to make sure Jungkook couldn’t hear him. “Don’t say anything to him, let’s just let him work things out, ok?” 

“Ok.” Jimin giggled. “Aish, he’s so cute. Even after all this time, a girl can get him worked up like this.” 

Taehyung stood silent while the other two cooed over Jungkook’s behavior. He thought back to Jungkook sitting there, watching as you leaned over to kiss him, and he felt awful. Taehyung wouldn’t do anything to purposefully hurt Jungkook, who was like a little brother to him. He had never even really felt anything for you, he only was carried away in the moment when you had kissed him. He knew you felt the same about him, when you rejected him at the door of your bedroom. Taehyung hated to think that maybe Jungkook heard any of that conversation that night, and he wondered how he would apologize to him for it once Jungkook was ready to talk about you to the other members. 

Just then, a pair of heavy footsteps came into the kitchen, silencing all of the members. Jungkook, unaware that they were in the room, had a still sleeping you in his arms, covered by your soft, pink blanket. His eyes widened, resembling a deer caught in headlights at being discovered, yet again, in a soft moment with you. 

“She, uh…” He stuttered, looking at the older members. “Her neck would hurt, sleeping on the couch like that too long. So I.. I thought… I’d just bring her back to her room…” 

“Good idea.” Hobi smiled warmly, not wanting to put too much attention on him. Jungkook scurried out of the house and held you close, going as quickly as he could to limit your time in the rain. 

“Oh my God, he’s in deep already.” Jimin giggled teasingly. Hoseok only responded with a grin while he shook his head. 

Next Chapter: x