#they’re probably not the greatest though

[simpjaes]

BOOK SMART? P*SSY SMART. — P.JS

The one where Jay basically lives in the university library and you live in any and every party you can find on campus. Unfortunately, your grades are suffering over it and you need help. You’re quite lucky though because Jay is quite helpful. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― inexperienced loser jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  Jay wears glasses even tho the banner says otherwise lol, he’s also a loser ass dweeb in this, open minded and playful reader, college au, jay just rly wants to get in that but doesn't know how to

NOTE― this is a revamp, surprise surprise, nobody is shocked. was originally written for mark lee over on my other blog @/ncteez but i need jay like i need air so….cackling at the title tho, my brain is malfunctioning pls forgive me

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags :: MONSTER COCK AGENDA. Jay is a pervert and smells ur towel lmao, mentions of food and detailed popsicle eating,  reader is very vocal and talkative, slight use of the pet name “pretty”, a lot of cum, cream pie, unprotected sex, mention of bc pills, Jay has a huge cock and he didn’t even know it, inexperienced Jay, experienced reader, finger sucking, nipple sucking, grinding, oral (f recieving), Jay gets on his knees, making out, sex on a table

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         It wasn’t shocking that you were failing but it was shocking that not a single one of your friends were failing with you. They somehow managed to keep their grades up while partying just as often as you do. You don’t know how the hell they did it and you also don’t know why the hell they refuse to help you study now that they’ve seen your failure.

         Not the greatest friends, you think. They won’t help you study because they only have time to study their own classes and to continue partying without you, apparently. You knew you had to come to terms eventually that these people aren’t your friends. They’re just people to party with, people to have fun with, and apparently, people that will watch you struggle.

         It’s frustrating to walk home from classes by the run-down houses with booming music already playing. Without fail, every time, you wish you could be attending instead of studying. It’s even more annoying when you give up on your studies because you’re just not fucking getting it, and you probably would be fucking getting it if you were at a party talking to potential boyfriends or fuckbuddies. 

         Fairness in the world is so hard to grasp. Someone else always has it, but never you. The worst part about all of this is that you’re very aware of how lucky you actually are, you wasted away in college and allowed yourself to get this low simply because you were lucky enough to be well-liked. You prioritized the pointless things over the important things, and now you’re suffering for it. Complaining that you can’t attend parties, looking like a bore to your friends who pity and are embarrassed by you for not being able to multitask like everyone else.

         That’s right. You can’t party and study like everyone else, so maybe now it’s time to focus on the task you’d pushed aside for so long.

         Studying. Ugh.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         You don’t know Jay past the fact that he is in at least three of your classes, extremely quiet, and constantly in the library when you pass by to leave the campus. You’re a little bit ashamed to admit that the majority of people you are well-liked by are the people who are ignoring you right now. The only choice you have is to find someone that can help you catch up on all of the studies you’ve blatantly abandoned. You could go through the student center and “officially” attend tutoring sessions with someone who would likely scoff at you for not getting it, or you could find someone of your own choice to help you. 

         That’s the only reason Jay comes to mind. Again, he is in three of the four of your classes. Every semester, without fail, you’ll look for your name on the dean’s list knowing that it’ll never show up, but you have seen Jay’s name on that list more times than you care to remember. 

         Jay knows of you as well. The girl who cut in front of him in the cafeteria to grab coffee with her large group of friends, making him ten minutes late to be early for his class. The girl who loudly slammed a book down in the library and nearly gave him a heart attack, the girl who came into class stumbling and giggling with one of the guys, clearly still tipsy from the night before. 

         You are everything that Jay isn’t. You are everything he avoids when accepting friends into his life, and his interest in you doesn’t really go past the point of having a stubborn, pretty girl to look at. He is a man after all. A man who is finally away from home, surrounded by hormonal women and men who can’t see past their brain fog of sexual fantasies in class. Never towards him though, he’s usually just on the outside looking in. 

         Jay has those fantasies too, but it isn’t his focus. He is dead set on being a top student, one that people recognize on the academic end rather than the partying end of it all. So, here he is, sitting with his nose in a book, glasses sliding down every few minutes as he munches on a pack of crackers. He’s been here for three hours already and finds comfort in the silence of the library. It’s such a vast place with so many corners to hide in if someone were to come and disturb his peace. Today is no different from any other Friday, where few students choose to study and instead opt for one of the various frat parties or bar hops. 

         You wish you could be one of those people, truly, but instead, you’re making your way to the library in search of Jay. The one student who you assume may actually take you up on the offer of study sessions. You imagine his shocked face when you sit in front of him, and you try your best not to imagine a look of disgust rather than approval. You need Jay now, for the first time in your life, more than ever. His knowledge of the three out of four classes you have will surely work wonders on your GPA, you will probably have to admit how much you’d be relying on him in order for him to even consider your offer too.  

God, you hate begging.

The library is so deafeningly silent when you walk in. You can’t hear even the slightest of a whisper as you walk around and peek into the many empty study rooms and cubicles. After several minutes of searching, the anxiety bubbles up inside of you. What if he decided to do something else? Of all days? The one day where he is needed to be studying? 

Just as you turn to leave, ignoring the entire second floor of the library, you nearly walk straight into him. And by nearly, you actually do  walk directly into him. 

Books clatter to the floor, Jay sighs as he looks down without making eye contact with you. It’s not the first time he’s been walked into and it probably won’t be the last. He is forever wishing that people could just watch where they’re fucking going.

“Hey, I’m sorry–” You go to say as you lean down to help him pick up the mess, he still doesn’t look at you though. Honestly, he barely even notices you there with those airpods in his ears and eyes on the floor. 

To be fair, most people who walk into him just continue walking, so…

         When he does take note of another person helping him retrieve his things, he looks up. You’re not shocked that all he does is nod at you when he takes the book from your hands and makes his way back towards his study space. 

         In an awkward way, you follow him. You feel dumb and kind of lost in this world of books and good students. Up the stairs, towards the floor you’d not even bothered to check, Jay unintentionally leads you to his little corner that already has papers and books laid out. 

         You swallow hard when he takes his seat and looks up to see that you have followed him. Jay is quick to swipe one of his AirPods from his ears and you can kind of tell that he instantly went from relaxed to nervous.

“Uh–” You look around, feeling awkward standing there. “I was looking for you.” 

“Me?” Jay questions with a soured look on his face. He doesn’t really do it intentionally, it’s just, like, what? 

 “Why?”

“Okay, just hear me out.” You start, taking a few steps forward and inviting yourself to sit at his table. There is absolutely no arm space on this side, but that doesn’t entirely matter. You begin your pitch.

“I know it’s kind of weird, but, I’m failing.”

“That’s not weird.” Jay mocks, shaking his head and moving to put his airpod back in his ear.

“Wait! Just, please–hear me out.” You plead now, a little frustrated that he’s already refusing to help you.

         He looks around and then lets out a deep sigh. Rubbing his temples, he nods.

“I know we aren’t the type to like, help each other or whatever– but I’ve asked all of my friends, and they kind of blacklisted me…you are my last resort, I swear.” You say, begging with your eyes. “Can you please just help me study for like, one day a week?”

         His body is stiff and his face is unimpressed by your pitch. 

“An hour a week?” You adjust clapping your hands together to plead even harder. You very nearly start to grovel on the ground before him. “Jay, please. I need to get my grades up.” 

“If you had just given yourself a day a week, you wouldn’t have to be asking someone you’ve never even spoken with to help you study.” He rolls his eyes, still mocking and appearing a bit cocky at the sudden power he’s been given. Of course he only gets approached when someone needs something from him. 

 “How many classes are you failing?”

“I’m failing three classes and have a C in another–” You shamefully admit. “Just an hour a day, please.”

         Jay eyes you over, shifting a bit in his seat before letting out another sigh. 

“Finals are barely a month away.”

“I know! I’ve already got extra credit lined up so I can at least get my grades up by a letter but– I,” You look down, more ashamed than before.

“You don’t know how to actually do the extra credit, do you?” Jay finishes for you and is, for some reason, shocked when you nod. 

         He can see the panic in your eyes, and he noticed for the past week that you’d been looking incredibly tired around campus. Not the hung-over type of tired either. He’s noticed you move your seat closer to the front in one of the classes and even noted that you’re actually taking notes during your time spent there. Maybe he should help you out. If not for the fact that you genuinely seem to need it, but also maybe because he’s like, incredibly aware that he is attracted to you.

 He always has been, but that’s not the fucking point. 

“Okay, you can come study with me whenever you want then. I usually study here because I have a roommate who isn’t exactly the quietest person–” He goes to explain. 

“I have an entire apartment to myself, you can come study at my place. Really, I’ll make food and everything.” You panic, still trying to sell the idea despite him already accepting your offer. 

         Jay is a little shocked and offended that you have your own apartment, and yet you’re failing your classes. No way in hell are you paying for that yourself. This only prompts him to want to help more. Because, like? An entire apartment to study in? Where a pretty girl makes his food? 

“Okay, that can work. What days and times can I be over?” He follows up with a nonchalant nod, noting the three shared classes and the one other you’ll probably need help with. He hopes he’s already taken the outlier class, otherwise he won’t be much help in that regard. 

“You can walk home with me after those classes if you want, and we can study until you’re ready to leave?” You offer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be every day, but–”

“We can meet up after every class and decide if you want to study or not.” Jay finishes for you yet again, and you nod with a smile. 

“What’s your favorite food?” You ask, wanting to make a mental note of keeping your end of the bargain. 

         Jay thinks hard at that because being put on the spot like this makes answering any question a bit difficult. 

“Here–” You hold out your phone. “Put your number in and you can think about it. I’ll text you so you have mine.”

 You can’t wipe the smile off of your face, the anxiety is practically dissolving from your body at the very idea of someone being willing to help you in the comfort of your own apartment.

         He, on the other hand, is a bit more anxious now. He realizes that now, he’s going to be studying with you. A girl who had never even looked at him twice during the semesters you’ve shared classes. He’s putting his number into your phone, and you’re going to be texting him, and spending time with him instead of going to the parties that he’s never invited to. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” You ask in his silence, sending a quick text to him so that he can save your number. He nods and looks down at his books. “Don’t forget to text me what you want to eat, okay?”

         He nods again as you stand to walk away. He watches intently at the way you have a little bounce in your step and can’t help but feel his cheeks flushing. God, why is he doing this to himself? 

         Slamming his head on the desk, he, much like you, cannot stop smiling now. All thoughts of studying for the remainder of the night left his head and were replaced with his new study schedule. He thinks he will try and take it easy this weekend, specifically so he is mentally prepared. He’s only talked to you for a total of fourteen minutes and he’s already lost his ability to study and think clearly. 

If he’s lucky, the two of you will pass this semester with flying colors. There’s still that tiny part of him though, that wonders if maybe you’d find interest in him, and maybe he will fail the semester with you because, honestly, you are so distracting.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         On Monday, you sat up straight in class while eyeing the back of Jay’s head most of the time. Mostly to prepare yourself for if and when he makes a break for it. He hasn’t even texted you what he wants to eat today, and part of you wonders if he went back on his promise to you. Not that it was much of a promise in the first place, anyway.

         He was a little shocked that you weren’t the first out of the room once everyone wrapped up though. Like you, he was assuming the same thing. You’d make a fucking break for it and pretend you never approached him in the first place. After all, It was common for you to leave mid-way through class or be the first one out the door. Instead though, he finds himself proud of you. You stood there awkwardly looking at him as the room emptied out, clearly unsure of what to do or say to him.

         Jay nods your way as if to beckon you towards him. 

“You’re still wanting to study today?” He asks with a brow raised in surprise. 

All weekend he had thought about it. Thought about the possibility of it just being a joke to you, or maybe that you’d change your mind and allow yourself to flunk out like you already had been doing. His heart kind of jumps a bit noticing you looking at him like this. 

“Yeah? Wasn’t that the plan?” You ask, nudging him a bit once you get up beside him. “You didn’t text me what you wanted to eat so you’re just gonna have to eat whatever I have in the fridge, by the way.”

         Jay nods, opting to stay silent at this moment. He’s going home with you. He’s going to be seen on campus walking home with you. He’s not the sort to want attention, but this situation feels dangerously attractive to him. Especially when he takes note of how you’re probably going to look all…cozy and at home in your apartment. Like, he gets to be in your space teaching you things that you should have already known. 

         It all shouldn’t be so exciting. After all, his days are filled with the typical boring sessions of reading, writing, noting, and memorizing. It is exciting for him though. Never has he studied with someone like you, or really even gotten to talk to someone that most of the men speak to, the unreachable men no less. The ones with families that own the city, and all the houses in it.

You’re one of the unreachable women on campus, he thinks. The ones with standards based on fun, attractiveness, and chaos rather than charisma, personality, and knowledge. It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing for Jay to be doing this right now.

“Okay, so...” Jay drones out, avoiding eye contact with you as he packs things into his ratty backpack. “I’m not super hungry right now but–we are going to your place right?”

He needs the confirmation himself if he’s being honest. Nothing would suck more than assuming and being proved wrong.

         You nod with a smile, grabbing his hand as soon as he throws his backpack on. It isn’t intimate to you, but for him, it’s…something. Holding his hand is reserved for intimate relationships with family or girlfriends. He never holds hands.

 He’s never really gotten the chance to anyway, aside from a little cousin when they were crossing the street last summer. He can’t help but buckle in on himself in a shy sort of way as you lead him from the room and out of the building. 

         You’re rambling about all of the things you need to study. All of the snacks you could offer to him. All of the hours you wish you hadn’t wasted partying, yet, all he’s thinking about is how warm your hand feels in his. You seem to be a natural at talking to people. Touching them without a single worry in the world, it’s kind of nice, he thinks. The fact that you aren’t ashamed to be seen together with him, heading towards the place you sleep. Sometimes Jay forgets that this is college. No one actually cares who is hanging out with who unless they are in the middle of a raunchy frat party, seeing their love interest getting touched against a dirty bathroom counter. 

         He smiles to himself as he finally catches up to you and allows you to stop dragging him around. He keeps pace with you now, resting his hand as if to allow you to let go, but you don't. 

“Just around that corner–” You say,  glancing over at him and noting the shade of color his face has become. “You good?” 

         Jay nods, staying quiet and trying to force himself out of his thoughts. He glances down at your hand holding his and then back up at you on instinct. 

“Ah, sorry.” You mumble, releasing his hand and trying hard to understand that maybe you truly are too clingy with most people in your life. You think his reaction was kind of cute though, and now you’re a little determined to help him relax those stiffened shoulders. Jay can’t be as boring as he seems, right?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I have peanut butter and jelly, eggs, noodles, some leftover pizza and–”

“I’m not hungry, but If I can have some water or something, that would be cool.” Jay cuts you off, slipping off his shoes in an immaculate show of how clumsy he is. You can hear the clatter of your entire coat rack falling to the floor due to his weight leaning on it through that single task. 

“Okay–” You side eye his mess with a slight smile. “Water, got it.”

 You trail off to get him the drink, keeping a small mental note of how nervous he appears to be right now. He’s panicked, frantically trying to balance your coat rack back in place as if you hadn’t walked directly into him just the Friday before. 

“Jay, it’s just a coat rack.” You laugh with water in hand, hearing him mutter a sorry as he hangs one of your empty purses back onto it.

“Thanks.” He says now, reaching out for the drink.

         Watching his eyes go from the glass of water to your apartment, you smile at the look on his face. Such a smart guy acting so incredibly stupid the moment he’s alone in an apartment with a girl. Cute.

“Is this good?” You ask as if you’re offering a change of subject so that he doesn’t have to think about the coat rack he had just knocked over. You point over to your dining table that’s placed perfectly in a little nook against a window and look at him as he stands in place. “We can start whenever you’re ready?”

“Can you show me to the bathroom first?” Jay blurts, hyper-aware of his awkward demeanor. He needs to calm himself down before even thinking about sitting down to fucking study. 

   You point to the bathroom quickly, making your way to the table and adjusting everything so there is space for the piles of books soon to be laid on it. You watch only a little bit at how Jay makes his way over to said bathroom in a show of not-so-confident body language. He seemed kind of cocky on Friday, but today he seems to be like jelly. 

         You sit at the dining table without thinking much more of the man in your bathroom, instead, you pull out some textbooks and lay them out.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         Jay stares at himself in the mirror, he can practically see the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he comes to terms with the fact that he probably shouldn’t have agreed to come to your apartment to study. You’re attractive. That alone is a reason in his head to avoid it, but he’s here and he’s already made a fool of himself. 

         He slaps his face a bit with some cold water and tries to will himself to stop acting like such an awkward idiot. Surely you’ll pick up on his inability to talk to women if he doesn’t get it together, right? You’re going to think he’s some weirdo, a pervert maybe, before throwing him out and avoiding him forever.

         Staring harder at himself, he waits for the color to run from his face so that way he can get out there and start the study session, but then his eyes start to wander. 

         Your bathroom is immaculately clean save for some makeup stains on the counter and a few stray hairs that must have been yanked out of your head while you attempted to brush out a night of drinking. It smells fresh and your perfectly hung towels look plush hanging against the wall. Without a thought in his head, he leans towards the towel so that he can dry his face and hands, and that’s just what he does. Except, maybe he buries his face into the towel a bit longer than he needed to, and maybe the smell of it was so astronomically sweet that he nuzzled against it even more.

         He could tell the towel had been used at least once though, solely because he could smell a scent that wasn’t the soap on the counter, nor any laundry detergent he’s aware of. Then…his eyes flick to the actual hand towel that he somehow missed, right beside it? A lace bra. The flush comes back to his face, making him feel even warmer than he did when he entered the room. Which feels like a fucking nightmare if he’s being totally honest. 

         It dawns on him again. He’s in your apartment, smelling your towels, and staring at your bra. Coming to the bathroom in an attempt to calm down has done nothing more than make things worse, and the only option he has now is to stumble out of the bathroom hoping you assume he was in here doing number two rather than planting his face into a towel where you dry off your naked body. 

         Mumbling to himself, Jay prepares himself to face you. Sure, you probably see nothing out of the norm if he does well and hides the fact that he’s hyper-sensitive just for being in your space, then again, Jay has never been the best at playing pretend.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You offer him a bright smile once he finally makes his way back into your living space and seats himself at the table. He seems to be avoiding eye contact with you, bashfully pulling his own books out of his bag with shaking fingers. 

“Are you okay? You sure you don’t want a snack or something?” You look at him, head tilting at him in concern. 

Jay finally looks at you and notes how comfortable you seem while he feels like he’s internally falling apart. There shouldn’t be any fucking issue in his head when it comes to this situation, but here he is, panicking because a pretty girl is in front of him. 

He feels so dumb, so obvious, so embarrassed. Yeah, maybe he should eat something, at least so he can buy some time to focus on something else before he starts stuttering through your studies. At this rate, all you’re going to learn about today is how awful Jay is around women. 

“Maybe I should eat, yeah–” He says in a small voice, still staring at the books as he places them on the table.

“Come look in my kitchen, we can eat something together?” You offer, reaching toward his hand. 

He pulls back from your touch and tries to play it off casually like he was just reaching for a pencil, but you didn’t miss the fact that his hands were cold and shaky.

Taking note, it starts to dawn on you. You’ve dealt with men like him before, and it was always an interesting situation. To check your theory, you rise from the chair and lean over the table, being sure to squish whatever cleavage you have visible to make it more visible to him. 

“Salty or sweet?” You ask, watching his eyes intently and the way they struggle to reach your face. Score one for you, Jay is definitely a man above all. Luckily for him, you have lots of experience in that field, while he appears to have very little in the field of women. 

“W-what?” He drones out, pulling his eyes away from you in an attempt to hide the way his face immediately flushed. 

“The snacks? Savory or sweet?” You laugh, propping yourself back from the table and hopping into the kitchen, checking behind you to see if he follows.

He does stand to follow, but by the time you round the corner, he isn’t behind you like you figured he would be. Peeping your head around the corner, you watch as he holds his hands in front of his groin, looks down at himself, and then lets out a deep sigh. You then watch as he adjusts himself in his pants, uncomfortably hiding a semi-hard on so that he could come into the kitchen without suspicion. 

By this point, you’ve already decided that studying will very likely not be part of today’s schedule. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a damn thing like this, right? You should help him, right?

“Took you long enough.” You joke as he appears in the kitchen, turning to look at him and intentionally trailing your eyes down his body just to see if you can see any sort of bulge. He’s safe though because he apparently must have skills in hiding his arousal during the worst times. 

Jay, on the other hand, can already tell that your shift in mood is intensely different compared to before he went to the bathroom. Twice now you’ve been blatant towards him and it is not helping him at all right now. Is he reading it wrong because he’s very obviously horny right now? Were you really trying to dangle your breasts in front of him like that? Are you really checking him out right now? 

“Sorry–” He looks down. “I– uh, I dropped something.” He offers as an excuse, uncomfortably trying to shift from your view and avoid eye contact. 

“Sure.” You say with a roll of your eyes, knowing full well that he was hiding his cock. “I want something sweet. Sounds good?” You change the subject, reaching out and running your fingers down his arm. 

He swallows hard, stiffening his shoulders and nodding to you. Without hesitation, you let your fingers stay against him for a few seconds longer, keeping eye contact with him before turning and opening a cupboard. 

“Peanut butter crackers, cereal, and oatmeal.” You deadpan, slamming the cupboard and stepping to the fridge. “Pudding.” Then you open the freezer. “Popsicles, and ice cream.”

Jay just stands there when you close the doors to the fridge and look at him in question. He could opt for the crackers but his throat is already dry enough. Choking right now would be even more humiliating. Cereal could work but that would be embarrassing too, for some reason. Oatmeal is an option, solely for how disgusting it looks, surely it would tame his boner. 

But, popsicles? Hell no.

“Grab whatever you want, I'm eating a popsicle.” You say, raising a brow and throwing open the freezer door again to take your pick.

Of course, it’s  intentional. It’s fun to see his eyes light up at the very idea of seeing you eat a popsicle, and even more fun to imagine how flustered he’s going to be in mere minutes.

Jay looks to the floor and heads towards your fridge, also opting for a popsicle despite his very recent internal protest. Mostly so you don’t think he’s a pervert when he inevitably sees you eat it. But also, like, just in case you really are trying to flirt with him right now, at least his lips will taste sweet too. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You had expected Jay to get flustered, and boy did he. What you didn’t expect though, was to become flustered yourself by the image of Jay’s tongue darting over sweet ice, and then over his own lips to suck up the melted and sticky juice. The only image in your head right now is the idea of if he would lick his lips like that if you were to spread your legs for him. Would he lick up your mess on his face, chasing the flavor the same way he’s doing right now?

A dull ache begins to spread throughout your body as you watch him. His eyes still avoid you but you manage to catch him a few times. Each time he makes eye contact with you, your gaze shoots to his lap just to see if he’s gotten hard enough for his cock to leave its tucked position in his waistband. 

Jay is hyper-aware now too, with the way you’re staring and almost leaving your popsicle unattended as he eats his own. He feels confused, like? Are you doing what he was actively avoiding doing to you? Jesus, you really are kind of a whore, god.

By the time the popsicles are finished, your fingers are sticky from allowing it to drip down the stick. You make a point to suck each of your fingers innocently, looking under your lashes at him for split seconds as you begin to shuffle through the papers on the table. 

“So–” You say, popping one finger out of your mouth and inserting another. “Can we start here? I need to have a paper written on at least one topic on this list and have no idea how to find a good source to read from.”

Jay hears and sees you in tunnel vision right now, but he manages to catch the ass end of your sentence and begins to try and focus on the studies at hand. Still watching you suck your fingers into your mouth, he clears his throat and places his own popsicle stick onto the table, pretending he doesn’t wish your tongue would lick him like that.

“I wrote mine based on this topic, and I found a lot of good sources for it. I don’t think our professor would think too hard about us choosing the same subject–” 

“Yeah, especially because it’s me. They’d never guess you’re in my apartment right now.” You laugh, smirking over at him. 

“I would’ve never guessed either–” Jay says without thinking, barely processing how embarrassing he is before you squint at him with a wider smile. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, raising a brow and leaning forward. “Why’s that?” 

Jay tries to look around but now can’t seem to force his eyes away from you. A much different circumstance compared to before when he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. There’s a connection here, he can feel it. You’re definitely coming onto him and you have been for the past however long he’s been here.

“You’re kind of out of my league, don’t you think?” He laughs more at himself than he does the situation, and to you, he honestly looks pitiful after saying that. It’s incredibly attractive to you in the way he seems to praise you for being a failure simply because he’s attracted to you. At least, that’s the case if you’re reading him right.

“Who said someone like you couldn’t teach me a thing or two?” You have a smile in your voice, and it comforts him, but that comfort is shot down when you stand on your feet and walk over to him. “Who says I’m out of your league?” You ask again, watching him scoot back with his chair as you come closer.

You prop yourself against the table, essentially blocking him from his books and papers. You look down at him now, dipping your head in a playful way. “I don’t think I’m out of your league.” 

Jay notes how you’re between him and the table now. You look comfortable leaning in front of him like this, and when his eyes trail up to your face all his body can do is give in. He looks at you through large eyes, the overhead light is sparkling through them at you. 

In that instant, you can see his embarrassment fill his body because he’s no longer resisting the urge to be himself. He’s staring at you as if you could be a god and saying nothing in response to your words. 

“If anything, Jongie–” You soothe him, grabbing one of his hands and smiling at the way his pen immediately falls out of his grip. “You’re out of my league.” 

He blinks up at you, soaking in the words and not yet understanding in full what you’re doing until he feels warmth enveloping the entirety of his hand and wrist. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you’re here right now?” You ask him, basking in the way you can see his breath get caught in his throat. “How lucky I am that you’re not only smart but hot too?”

He dips his head at this, a bashful show of your words having an impact on him. He hides his face briefly against his arm and then he realizes–

“Is this okay?” You ask, holding his hand in place as you begin to move your hips against his palm.

Jay watches the way you’ve managed to pull his hand out and plant it between your legs, all so you could grind against it without so much as a warning. He’s not against it though, if anything, his head is shot back to reality and he’s immediately back to glancing around the room and avoiding the scene in front of him.

His palm is against your literal, dampening panties, and all he can think to say right now is, “You could write your thesis on human connection and its effects on the brain.” 

You smile at his attempt to continue to study through this moment.

“I could,” You say with a deeper voice than before, feeling the way his hand stays relaxed in your grasp as you grind against it. “Or we could think about how your brain is being affected right now?”

Jay groans, feeling the warmth of your wet beginning to seep through the fabric, and honestly, it is happening so fast that he’s sure it would be more embarrassing if he walked out now. 

“How are you feeling?” You reword your question towards him, intentionally swiveling your hips so that you can position his fingers into your underwear. 

“You’re warm.” Jay chokes out, eyes now zoning in on your legs slightly spread in front of him. 

You let out a small laugh at this, pulling a bit on his arm to pull him closer, but he doesn’t compute it at all. 

“Do you like it?” You ask again, this time slipping his fingers into you. You let out a deep sigh and roll your eyes back, fucking yourself gently against his fingers before you look at him.

He’s nodding, probably more thankful now that you’d worn a skirt today rather than pants. He didn’t allow himself to take note of your attire, because if he did, he would have made even more of a fool of himself. But he’s nodding now, watching the way you hold his arm in place and slide his fingers in and out of you. 

His silence is louder than his words could be right now, you think. You can feel him straighten his fingers inside of you, you can practically see him salivate at the very idea of how you’re using him right now. You’re not done though, no, no. He’s far too sweet like this, but you want to hear words.

Gently, you pull your hips back effectively slipping his fingers out of you. There, you lift his arm and examine your wetness against his fingers. You smile again, eyes now adjusting to his face rather than his wet fingers. 

Jay watches as you guide his fingers to his lip, and without a second thought, he opens his mouth to taste you against them. He licks circles around each of the two fingers, closing his eyes almost instantly so that he can relish the experience.

He no longer cares how awkward he must seem sitting here like this, letting you do all the work.

“Do you like the taste too?” You ask, releasing his hand and watching how he continues to suck his fingers. 

“Mhm–” Jay groans with his closed mouth around the digits, making damn sure to suck every bit off.

“You’re pretty, you know that?” You compliment him this time, tearing your eyes from him and slipping your panties down your legs. You turn yourself over so that you’re now bent over the table and you ignore the corner of one of the textbooks poking against your ribs, all in favor of what sound Jay will make when he opens his eyes. 

“You can taste more, if you want.” You offer, lifting to look behind you at the way his fingers drop from his mouth and his eyes immediately zone in on your bare pussy displayed for him under your hiked-up skirt. 

He does let out a whimper, one that seemed entirely desperate to do just that for you but–he doesn’t move. He just stares, soaking in the words you’re saying, memorizing each fold and dip in your glistening pussy.

You don’t intend to wait though. Reaching behind you, you grab the back of his head by his hair and guide his face to you. The way you can hear his chair tip over as he falls to his knees makes you quiver a bit before him, and you’re almost surprised to not just feel a face against you. It appears that Jay does know what he’s doing. 

He instantly jumps into action, loving the feeling of your hand in his hair basically telling him to do it. Giving him that green light, letting him.

You can feel his tongue exploring and his other hand reaching to lift your skirt entirely over your ass. His tongue is soft, warm, wet, and so entirely eager to lick and suck every inch of you. It’s not until he starts allowing his moans to vibrate into your flesh that you hike one of your legs up and open your cunt against his working tongue more.

Guiding him by his hair still, you press his face harshly into you with little to no fight for air from him, and you’re loving it. Loving the way he whines for more when his tongue reaches the furthest limit, loving even more when he finally reaches his hands up to your pussy and spreads it out for himself.

He isn’t even thinking at this moment, just tasting and feeling you guide his tongue as if this is what you wanted all along. The thought alone of someone like you wanting to fuck his tongue like this sets his cock on fire in so many ways. He’s so hard right now that it hurts to think about it at all. Jay doesn’t give a single fuck about how pathetic he must sound to you right now, whimpering and panting against you as if this was the only sweet thing in your apartment he wanted to eat anyway. 

You hear a clatter to the floor, knowing for a fact that he’s knocked his glasses off of his face from the angle in which he skewed his neck in order to fuck his tongue into you. You wonder what’s going through his mind right now, because goddamn he’s eating you out like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He’s impressively messy and loud with it too, making you feel as if you must taste like the sweetest thing on earth to him. 

For some reason, thinking back to all of the non-sexual situations you’d passively seen Jay in? It turns you on even more. The big-brained student who is constantly making straight As and never going out to parties eats pussy like this? Eats your pussy like this? Better than half of the men you’d already been with? Jay doesn’t miss a single centimeter of it,  and you can tell he’s focusing on you more than he has ever focused on his homework or studies before. 

You feel so deeply needed at this moment by Jay that all you can do is let out a desperate moan for him. One so that he knows he’s not the only one utterly stunned by the turn of events, but also because you’re fucking loving what he’s doing to you.

With each moan, Jay picks up his pace, using those same two fingers and spreading your cunt out impossibly wider just so he can attempt to bury his tongue deeper into the messy, wet heat you offer. He’s spreading you apart so well that it almost pains you to move without the fear of being torn open by his tongue alone. Your clit has barely even been reached but he still managed to make you feel sensitive to the point of wanting to beat your fists on the table out of sheer frustration for not approaching him sooner. 

Not only can he help you pass your classes, but he surely could make you feel like a fucking queen on top of it all, licking you open, up and down, as if he were born and trained for you and you alone? Insane.

“You’re so–” You groan out, releasing his hair from your grip but pressing your ass out more so that you can feel him slip his tongue back to your clit with impossible reach. He continues that, sliding his tongue from your clit to your entrance, dipping in and swirling the muscle before going back to your clit. All while he’s moaning, groaning, and panting against you. 

It’s too much, he’s so incredibly eager that you’re honestly too sensitive to let him keep going. You hate it when you pull your hips forward and lift from the table. Your legs are shaking when you do this, and shaking even more when you turn to face him and lean against the table again. 

“How–?” You look down at him in pleasant surprise, watching him lick his lips much like you hoped he would. “How are you so good at this?” 

Jay is stunned by your question because in all fairness, he’s only ever eaten a girl out once and like, it wasn’t that great because she made him stop within like a minute. He wasn’t really thinking about what to do with you though, or how to do it. He just…did it. That’s all. So obsessed with the taste and smell of you to the point he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He’d still be licking you right now if you didn’t move away. 

“I–don’t know.” He shamefully admits, nonchalantly moving his hands to his pants and unbuttoning them. Not to fuck you or anything, mostly just to release his cock from the chokehold of the denim rubbing against him. 

“You’re lying.” You deadpan, running your hand between your legs and quivering the moment your fingers run over your swollen clit. “There’s no way you haven’t practiced doing this.” You gasp, looking at him as if no other man exists. 

He shakes his head, looking up at you from the floor with innocent eyes. His lips are wet, his eyes are hooded, his hair sticking up from your fingers guiding him– it’s a lot to see him like this when you’ve only ever seen him as that goody-two-shoes student who doesn’t know how to have fun. Clearly, Jay knows how to have fun.

Your gaze on him makes him feel more bashful as he looks down to the floor, feeling embarrassed that you’re praising a complete amateur at this. 

Using your leg, you nudge him.

“You did all of that and didn’t even touch yourself?” You ask in curiosity, noting how he had only just now undone his pants to relieve pressure. “Let me see it.” You say again, almost demanding as you hop up on the table and spread your legs even more.

Frantic at your tone of voice, Jay stumbles to his feet and pushes his pants down to his thighs. His cock springs out and stands erect in front of you. You could stare all day, honestly. Jay, of all people? He’s the one with a cock this big? He’s the one with a size that could make you feel as if you’re being split in half? Well, fuck.

“God.” You comment, mouth falling open at the way it twitches in mid-air. “All of the girls would be fucking swooning, Jay, really.” You get a bit flustered yourself because only now do you understand who you just seduced and what he’s got to offer outside of brains. 

In all of his shyness, Jay hides his face from you again despite his cock out in all of its glory. Your mouth could honestly start watering if he hadn’t just eaten you out to the point of needing him to stop. Meaning, your throat is too dry right now to start drooling. 

Without another thought, you pull your shirt and bra off all in one go. No way in hell is he leaving without fucking you stupid with a cock like that. Absolutely no fucking way  would you let this go to waste.

“When’s the last time you’ve done anything with a girl?” You ask now, reaching for his arm and pulling his gaze back towards you, now almost completely naked save for your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

Jay stares at you again, much like he did when you spread your legs in front of him, this time zoning in on the way your nipples are erect and begging for his mouth to be put to use again. He nearly forgets that you’re talking to him because of the way you’ve presented yourself to him. The reality is right in front of his face, but he still wonders if this must be a dream.

“I–um– right out of high school before she broke up with me,” He says in a lazy voice, slightly raspy. It sounds as if it doesn’t even matter to him because he is so focused on you in front of him. “I’ve only had sex two times.”

“Aw–” You pitifully look at him. “What a waste, you’re such a pretty boy.” You coo, wiggling your hips as if to entice his cock to make its way towards you. “You’ve got the brains and the cock for it. You must feel so neglected.”

All he does is nod, because yes, he does feel fucking neglected, partly because he let it happen and mostly because he knows he doesn’t know how to talk to girls. Right now, Jay could genuinely start crying if you keep talking to him like this though. He can’t tell if you’re mocking him or being genuine, but the only thing he wants to do is bury his cock so deeply inside of you that all you can do is moan out mantras of how pretty he is again. He wants to hear you moan over how much time has been wasted without his cock inside of you, how badly you’d want him again and again after this. 

You can see his facial expressions change every few seconds and to be fair, your body yearns to be filled. With the way he is looking at you, there’s no way he doesn’t want to.

“Wanna fuck me, Jongie?” You ask, realizing that you much prefer calling him this rather than his full name because he seems to lean directly into it. 

“God,” He sighs out, hanging his head to look at the way his cock still stands painfully erect throughout the conversation. “Can I?” He asks now, making eye contact with you through pleading eyes.

You reach out for him, grabbing his waist and pressing his cock directly against your core. You lean your head back a bit to look at him and the way his eyes sear straight through your own. His pupils are dilated, his cheeks are rosy, and his lips are glistening. You lick against them, and the way he immediately starts to kiss you makes you think he’s a liar. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his mouth regardless of where it is. His tongue presses into your mouth so beautifully that you genuinely could argue that this man has only ever had sex twice. 

Maybe he’s a natural? 

Jay knows exactly when to grind his cock between your folds, knows exactly when to pull back to kiss your neck, and knows exactly how to lean you back with his hand protecting the back of your head so that it doesn’t slam against the table. 

He slips his cock so beautifully as he trails his kisses to your tits too, suckling gently against one of your nipples before he nearly can’t stand it anymore. He’s in his own world, barely recognizing that he’s not the only one experiencing this right now.

With an eager hand, Jay grabs his cock and presses it directly into you without waiting any longer. He isn’t slow or gentle with it. You can feel how desperate he is solely because of the way he can’t seem to fathom taking it slow. He doesn’t let you adjust, no. The second the head of that thick cock slips in he’s slamming in. All the way, forcing a yelp from your throat and a tight grip to his back.

He’s lost himself in the moment and you’re loving it. Loving the way his tongue picks up against your nipples, and the way there is no rhythm or rhyme to his thrusts. His size alone is enough for you, and you can admit to loving every single push and pull his body is offering.

The room is silent save for his whimpers, your gasps, and the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. You’re quick to wrap a leg around his waist so that when he presses in again, you can force him to stay in place, if just to let him genuinely feel what it’s like to have a pussy clenching around him.

“You feel it?” You groan out, feeling his teeth pinch against your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body. 

He nods frantically, pulling your nipple with his lips as he does it. You can tell he’s drooling, wetting your chest in such an embarrassing way, but he’s so–Jay. He’s Jay. This is Jay.

You watch his face and the way he winces with each pulse of your hole quivering around the sheer size of him, and you coo out at him when his cock twitches in response. As if you can handle yourself right now, as if he can too.

Neither of you can comprehend the pleasure.

“Can’t believe I get to be your third.” You sing out. “You’re so good, so–”

“S-stop talking, fuck-” Jay calls out in a broken and choked gasp, feeling too turned on by the way you speak. He can’t help it when he forces his hips to move against the pressure of your leg trying to keep him in place. This time he fucks at a quicker pace. His mouth falls open against your breast and his hands shoot to your waist as he pulls himself up and opens his eyes. 

He watches the way your sticky cunt coats him as he slides in and out of you, fingers pressing so hard into your hips that you feel he could be bruising you. 

You’re so in awe of him losing complete control that you want nothing more than to cum with him inside of you. You quickly reach your hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive spot almost to the point that you could start crying out at how painful it truly is at this moment. You’ve never been this sensitive for a man, and yet, you’re coming undone beneath him and nearly losing as much control as he has. 

A mess of moans and groans is filling the room as Jay chases his high, and you are at the point that you want to say the nicest and dirtiest things to him out of sheer arousal. So you do, you talk, and you talk. Whispers of “girls would die to be fucked by you,” turn to screams of, “yeah, fuck Jongie, just like that!” 

It wasn’t until you moaned out, “Cum with me, now, Jongie, I can’t hold it–” when Jay ’s hips stuttered and his eyes closed tightly in a frustrated groan. “Stop–” He grunts, hips pressing impossibly hard against you. To the point that you scoot up on the table. “Stop, I’m–” He groans again, attempting to pull out so that he can release against your pulsing and empty pussy.

But you don’t let him.

Your legs hold him in place as you release your clit and pull yourself up on your arms just to grab against his neck and pull him down with you against the table. 

“Cum in me.” You nearly demand, holding his face so that he can’t look away from you.

You watch the way his pupils dilate more at the words and you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you. Then? His pupils are gone. He’s rolling his eyes back now, looking so fucking beautiful while doing it.

Jay’s eyebrows fall much like his mouth does when he cums. His hips are frantic but his face looks calm, and not a single sound releases from his lips. His breath is caught in his throat with each twitch, shooting ropes into you so deeply that you feel each wave of his pleasure hitting your cervix. 

  You’re very quick to rub your clit again, harsh and rough circles being amplified by the way his abdomen adds pressure to your hand with each push of his cock in you. It sends you over edge so fast, even he feels the clench, choking out each spurt of his remaining orgasm. 

You grab onto him harshly now, without a thought in your head besides kissing him. He kisses you back, realizing that despite having sex before, this may be the first time he’s ever made a girl cum. It’s certainly the first time he’s ever felt his cock being tugged by the walls of a pussy as it works itself through an orgasm, anyway.

Crazy thing is…he’s not done. Like, he can’t stop cumming. Lasting entirely far too long and far past sensitivity. Jay opens his eyes to look at you when you’re reaching the end of your own orgasm, all while he’s still filling you up, and even feeling his load bubble out from around him with each tight thrust. Your voice is beautifully raspy, and the way you hold onto him makes him feel like you should never let go. 

Upon his ears popping and finally emptied, he genuinely feels the mess between the two of you. Quickly, he pulls back and notes that the hem of his shirt is absolutely fucking soaked. In an attempt to take a small step back in order to remove himself from you, he nearly trips over his pants that had fallen to his ankles.

“Oh.” You laugh, wincing as you feel his cock leave you empty. “Probably should have undressed you.” Your eyes sparkle at the large damp spot, nearly making his shirt entirely see-through from just how soaked it really is. 

Jay steps out of his pants silently and just kind of stands there awkwardly, watching the cum spill from you. Then panic spreads across his face. 

“Um,” He croaks out, voice cracking almost immediately. “I– I couldn’t pull out…I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t want you to.” You soothe him, noting how he’s right back to his awkward and shy persona the moment he’s finished fucking you. “It’s fine, I’m protected” You confirm for him, just to see the relief replace that panic.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“So–” You comment, looking down at the wrinkled papers in front of you. “You really expect me to try and write at least 1200 words tonight?” 

Jay tilts his head at you, sitting with a blanket covering his entire body as his clothes go through the cycles of a wash. “If we hadn’t gotten off track, you could already be almost done with it.” 

“God, you are such a fucking bore.” You laugh, shivering at the cold air hitting your bare skin. “I’m literally naked right now and you’re making me do this right now?” 

“Finish your paper and we can talk about that. Besides, I kind of need to recover for more than thirty minutes from that, you know? I’m sensitive.” He shoots back, not afraid to sound as embarrassing as he truly is now. 

To his surprise, you nod with a cheeky smirk. Promising you any amount of him after what happened was enough to force your focus on your school work for now at least. Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he will always want to fuck stupid girls. If anything, Jay deserves someone who respects his work ethic and need to help others right? The huge cock is just a bonus when you think about it.

You know it’s going to be a hell of a month after tonight, but for the most part, you think that studying with Jay may have been your best college decision to date. You can learn a lot from him, and apparently... he can learn from you too. You just hope he doesn’t run off and use that knowledge on other girls once he realizes he’s definitely got the ability to break hearts. 

[pxme-granate]

[im-still-watching-anime]

writing bsd fics really is like some sort of palate cleanser for me like anytime i get unhappy with the way i write i go work on a bsd wip for a while and for some reason it’s always so much more relaxing than any other writing i do

[notafunkiller]

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

*

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

*

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

*

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt ~ Honor to Us All ~ Gotham as one true the most haunted city edition

~~~~~

Instead of a welcoming banner in front of a city was an old column, so familiar to a boy, with a warning inscription:

"To outsiders mad enough to attack Gotham: You will be forced to understand that dead soldiers will also go into battle. And having risen to protect, they will be ready to perish all again, So no one of the living would die near them."

Danny smiled with love. 'I’m home, Mother.' Ghost whispered into the void. And Gotham answered.

~~~~

Danny: My Lady, I brought you the crown of Pariah Dark. And The Ring of Rage. They’re gifts to honor the Gotham family. Lady Gotham: The greatest gift and honor is having you on my side, child.

~~~~~

Danny Fenton was born in Gotham and lived here until his parents decided to move. The city didn’t accept them.

'When I die, I want to be one of the Gotham Knights.' Little Danny with pride and eagerly reported to his parents after visiting the Battle Glory of Gotham Museum on a school trip. This evening, Danny learned that not all his plans should be told to his parents.

Danny know his parents are crazy about ghosts. and that all ghosts are "bad". But obviously, the ghosts they talk about, and his, or rather Gotham's, ghosts are completely different creatures. The spirits of the defenders are those who, even in the darkest of times, make the shadows of the Gotham a protection to the citizens.

But that knowledge is his little secret for now. Because if he starts arguing he’ll be punished and he won’t be able to run off to the roof where he’s arranged to meet Robin. Robin’s cool! He works with one of the 'still-living' knights. And he knows more about the city than anyone. Danny doesn’t want to offend his friend.

~~~~~

Mr Lancer doesn’t understand why the lecturer about ghosts, Constantine, after seeing Danny, said something about the bloody gothamites and their inability to stay underground. It wasn’t nice at all. Mr Lancer doesn’t blame Mr Fenton for smiling at the man a little aggressive and viciously. Poor boy probably didn’t know how to respond to his behavior. Danny moved to Amity Park a long time ago and did not stand out at all. So what was this man’s problem?

Danny only half dies because Lady Gotham blessed him when he was a child. So when Danny sees snow-white hair and glowing green eyes in the mirror, he is not frightened but surprised that the Lady protected him even though he is not living in Gotham now.

~~~~~

Danny knows gothamites don’t consider that Gotham is a part of the USA. Even their Metropolis neighbors are just pathetic cowards, unable to withstand the hardships of life. No, really. Why the hell would they be patriots of the country that thinks they’re its dirty secret? This opinion is shared by old ones and children, rich ones and residents of Crime Alley, heroes and villains.

Danny loves Gotham. And he likes local jokes about how if one of their supervillains ever took power enough to threaten the government, he would be obliged to release them from that citizenship. Otherwise, he would be shamed and ridiculed by the inhabitants.

Phantom is not a villain. But for Gotham? For their common purpose? He is ready to pretend to be.

~ A ghost can bring his city ~ Great honor in one way ~

Gothamites remember that the child of mad scientists was the only person Boy Wonder was willing to call a friend. They remember how boys' laughter was heard from rooftops and from alleys on particularly dark nights. And they know whose restless spirit has returned to mourn the death of the second Robin.

The boy’s parents must be fools. Many outsiders are. They call their blessing a curse. People die in Gotham. And not all of them come back. Residents know that these ones are chosen by Lady Gotham herself.

The public enemy of Amity Park number 1? What nonsense. He is not theirs anything! In Gotham they will accept the Phantom as a guard, as a silent shadow, as a villain or a hero. In any kind. Because he belongs here. He should be part of their dance between life and death. He should be amidst dark alleys and acid rains, gliding between fear and laughter in the air.

Even local villains experience strange yearning. Like something’s wrong. Like a piece of a puzzle that’s lost. Therefore, the local abandoned observatory is empty, and none of them is in a hurry to call it their territory. Because it will be in demand, it will be loved and needed. It’s only a matter of time.

Let the spirit of Gotham guide you home, child. Dead gothamite is still gothamite. Which means there will always be a place for you.

~~~~~

When Danny first enters his favorite cafe in his Phantom form and with a wound on his leg, he doesn’t expect a cleaning lady to yell at him immediately for the blood on the floor. With a mop in his hands and with already bandaged leg, Danny feels as if all his worries had gone. They are not afraid of him. Of course. No one in Gotham would avoid him because of glowing eyes and sharp teeth. And that’s nice.

The waitress throws a tray of food on a table next to him: Welcome dinner for the wandering son of the alley. Red Hood said it's your usual order. He’ll be waiting for you on the gargoyle. You should know which one.

~~~~

If parents listened to his childhood stories about good ghosts, they would know that the Phantom is not special. He is not an anomaly of ghost nature and not a mistake. He is one of many who always were and will be defenders of the city. Danny stands in front of the costume that he admired years ago. He's ready to take another shift at work. The remains of his colleagues can rest quietly this night. Lady will wake them only when in dire need.

[nottobehornyonthemain]

The pool scene is awesome. But it’s also extremely painful.

Because on the one hand you have Gideon, who is very repressed, something we’re probably not expecting as an audience, because she is a brash, agressive, openly queer woman. There’s a weird expectation that girls are somehow more in touch with their feelings (this is dumb). But also we live in a heteronormative society, and it’s unusual for us to see out queer folks who haven’t had to actually think critically about their emotions and come to terms with with them. Which, Gideon has not done.

So she’s in this position where she does not think that Harrowhark is capable of feeling affection or love, and that the strongest emotion Harrow is capable of is hate. Gideon knows 100% for a fact that Harrow hates her, so that means she is important to Harrow.

Except that Harrow *is* apparently capable of love and affection. Which means that when she says that she doesn’t think about Gideon that often because there are things she cares about more, she’s not just saying it to get under Gideon’s skin. Which means that Gideon isn’t as important to Harrow as she thought she was. And this upsets her deeply for reasons she can’t fully explain or understand.

On the other hand you have Harrow, she just told her greatest secret, and received forgiveness, understanding, and genuine human comfort in return. So she looks at the world as though it is filled with egg-eating snakes and she is protecting an egg. So she makes Gideon promise to go home and do the thing her family has been tasked with for generations. We, as the audience, have only gotten like five scenes with Harrowhark fully aware of everything post pool-scene, and in two of them she is destroying herself so that Gideon can have even the smallest chance of life.

Because Gideon just had her heart broken into a thousand tiny shards and can’t even express why, meanwhile Harrow thinks they’re married now.

If they had just a few more hours to talk to each other afterwards I fully believe that they would have worked a lot of this shit out. I guess that’s the tragedy. Even in their moment of seeing each other clearly for the first time, they still don’t understand each other.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

BUTIMGONNAGETYOUBACK

bakugou katsuki x reader

you remember all the times he tried to mend your broken heart

part 2!

a/n: ty i didn’t expect all the love on the first one 🤍

5) acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing just how badly he fucked up.

he hated you, albeit only a little. hated you for making his heart ache the way it did. when you’re young and you feel love you never know how it will end. he thought that you either love someone to marry them, or to break their heart- and when he shut the door on you, he just figured you were the latter.

oh, how wrong he was.

if it was so easy, why did he have to physically restrain himself from calling you that night? why was his mind plagued with thoughts of you hurting? hurting because of him? you gave your heart to him and he tore it to pieces. and it made him want to vomit.

some nights he missed you, and wanted you back. other times he hated you, because he hated himself, and still wanted you back.

so bakugou did what he does best. he blew the 5 stages of grief to kingdom come, and started a new list.

1) accept you fucked up

katsuki bakugou, being katsuki bakugou (aka a stubborn piece of a shit) wanted to believe that he made the right choice. that he once again came out on top, that he was doing the best because he is the best- accept in this case, being the best caused him to lose you.

you were maybe the only person who didn’t just tolerate his stubbornness, his snark or his ego, but loved him more for it. you took every horrible thing about him and decided to love him anyway. what a soul to do that.

and he tried to rationalize that you maybe wouldn’t be the only person he’d meet that accept him for all his flaws and shortcomings, but he didn’t want to risk that. he knew what he wanted and he had it. and bakugou katsuki was not going to let it go so easily.

2) accept you might not be good enough

“might” is a nice word. no. even though he was the greatest, an amazing hero, a stop student and a phenomenal hero, katsuki bakugou didn’t deserve you. someone who wiped the sweat off his forehead after a workout, who reminded him to eat in the morning and drink his water because he can’t train on an empty stomach, who reminds him that its okay to make mistakes because you didn’t fall in love with a perfect hero, you fell in love with him.

and if he’s real, he thinks he deserves less. because someone as good as you shouldn’t be with an asshole like him. but he doesn’t care, and he hopes you don’t really either. he loves you more than he hates himself.

3) know the price going in

your friends called him a dick. your brothers offered to slash his tires or even key his car. your blocked him on everything, threw everything he ever bought for you in the back of your closet, cut up all the photos and cursed out his very existence. heartbreak is only a precursor to anger, and he knew you were probably full of it by know. you learned from the best- you learned from him, after all.

so he knew he had a lot coming his way. reminders of his fuck ups, of his shortcomings. of all the times he made your pretty face cry. so he took all of that hatred and ate it, because he knew most of it (maybe all of it, but he thinks his car is innocent) was deserved. hell, he was angry too. but anger and love aren’t enemies, but rather sisters. some people are worth screaming and fighting with at 2 in the morning. you only cursed his name because you remembered every syllable of it etched into your heart.

4) know when someone still wants you

maybe he was delusional. maybe in his brokenhearted haze his brain simply made it all up in an attempt to heal what was hurting. but he could have sworn he heard you ask about him when talking with your old friends. maybe you wanted to hear about his misery and bask in it. fair. but maybe, just maybe, you actually cared about how he was doing.

and he knows you still have his hoodies, even if they’re curled up underneath your bed. he knows your still wearing his cologne because he recognizes a smell he loves whenever he’s lucky enough for you to walk by him. he knows you still reread your texts, because he’s told you things he would never even dare to utter to anyone else- words just for you. and he knows you still go to all your old date spots, because you forgot to turn off your location. you only shared it with him, anyway.

he knows your missing him, or at least thinking about him. and its maybe the only thing keeping him functioning.

5) fix your face

bakugou, a pillar of self care and health, doesn’t remember the last time he’s showered. he hasn’t eaten a full meal in a couple of days because you haven’t reminded him to. he hasn’t slept since sunday because he hasn’t called you goodnight, and you don’t know that he can’t sleep without it. he looks like shit.

so one day, a day he knows theres a small chance he might see you with your friends during training, he forces his ass out of bed and washes his face. he pats his face dry with a towel instead of rubbing, because you taught him that it lessens his acne. he uses the $21 moisturizer you left in his washroom cabinet simply because its yours, and it makes his skin soft. he wears the perfume you left behind too, because you still have his cologne and this shitty bottle or strawberry pound cake is all he has.

he looks okay. he thinks. but he’s unaware that you still think he’s as gorgeous as the first day you met him.

6) pray that you don’t care what he’s done

he’s an asshole. he has an explosive temper and most people are scared of him. he’s insensitive, he’s a jerk who doesn’t give a single damn about who’s feelings he hurts. he’s gonna be the best, and any extra’s who get in the way are nothing but dead weight. thats what he thought for the longest time, until meeting you.

so he’ll hope that you don’t care how much of a dick he really is. he knows that you love him anyway, but he has to keep praying that that’ll stay the same, even after breaking your heart. he hopes that you’ll forgive him, even if he gets on his knees to do if. you rob him of his pride, of his ego, and he loves you for it. you’re the only person that can make him weak.

and if you’re any real, understandable person who doesn’t forgive him, thats only an excuse to keep getting better. because if theres one thing katsuki bakugou is good at, its proving that he’s the best (even when he’s not.) and he swears to himself that he’ll keep making himself better until he can say that he deserves you.

7) love you till the end

he wants more than just late night phone calls and sharing playlists. he wants to succeed alongside you, share all his greatest accomplishments with you and know that you’re the greatest of them all. he wants to teach you how forever feels, to love you for as long as his lungs breath and his heart beats. being the number one hero was 2nd to being with you- and katsuki bakugou never takes 2nd places. never.

he accepts that his heart is fully, utterly, embarrassingly yours. he knows you have every right to wanna smash it up, eat it and spit it out for all he’s done to you. but he’d rather his heart and love he in your hands than anyone elses. you’re the best thing that was ever his. and even when he broke things off, when he told you he had to choose his career, he knew deep down that he was never not yours.

8) push the rest button, become something new

he was determined to stay this time, even if it meant being handcuffed to you.

1 in the morning. your place. why did you let him in? you weren’t sure. but the banging on the door suggested he wasn’t going away any time soon. you two sat on your bedroom floor, both enjoying and hating each others presence. it was the first time you had seen him in months. and of course he still looked gorgeous. you smelled your perfume as soon as he walked in through the front door.

“…you gonna tell me why you’re here, kats?” you finally broke the silence. your voice cut through the weight on the room like a knife. you did your best to hide the hurt in your voice just from seeing him. your heart ached.

“its stupid.” he mutters, shoving his hands into his sweater. he deliberately faced away front you, because he wasn’t sure if the vulnerability in his eyes would make you hate him more or love him less. maybe both.

“everything you say is stupid.” you half-heartedly chuckle, and he has it in him to scoff quietly, not disagreeing with you. the sound of pouring rain outside growing quieter as you finally got to talk to him. his voice was still your favourite melody, even when it said stupid, stubborn things.

“..just needed to see you.” he finally dares to utter, crimson red eyes looking at you with his brows furrowed. when it came to you, nothing was ever a ‘want.’ no, when it was you, it was all essential to him.

you silently cursed yourself, before getting up and softly crawling towards him next to your bed. your body finds its rightful place next to his, leaning up against him. it had been so long since you felt that warmth. he looks down at you first, not in reluctance but in genuine surprise, before finding his bearings and wrapping his arm around you tight. he was scared that if we were to fully hug you he’d end up never letting you- not that you minded, though.

“asshole.” you quo, wanting to humble him. you were still angry, despite desperately needing to cuddle with him. he simply nods, knowing you’re right. “i missed you.”

both of those statements are true.

“…i’m sorry.” his gruff voice softens, holding you tight. he finally gets to hold you again. if this is his time to say his piece, than he’ll say it with his whole chest. he never half-asses things. “i’m sorry for ever thinking it was okay to let you go.”

his voice cracked at the end there. you couldn’t see him, nor did you want to because you knew it would break your heart, but he was crying.

“…you’re such an idiot kats.” your voice cracks too, pulling him to you even tighter. “i thought you regretted it. r-regretted me or some shit.”

he shakes his head, stroking your hair. “no, i didn’t. idiot, i could never regret you.” he grits his teeth as he does nothing to stop the flow of tears. he deserves to feel the way they sting against his cheeks.

“i’m sorry, [y/n] i’m so fucking sorry. i wanted to have you back but i know how stupid that is now. maybe i’ll just grab my hoodies. or keep them, burn them up for all i care-‘’

he says before finally making eye contact with you. you’re crying and so is he. but god, looking into your eyes felt like he had his own personal universe right in front of him.

“…i wouldn’t burn your sweaters. cut them up, maybe.” you giggle, using your sleeve to wipe away the pain on your face. “but they’re mostly just all on my bed.”

his red eyes flicker up, realizing that you are indeed right. the fabrics he’s so familiar with, you’ve been spending every night with. that makes him more happy than he wants to admit.

theres a beat of silence between the two of you. katsuki feels his heart breaking in the tension. he’s mentally preparing himself to walk out your front door once again, but this time unwillingly.

“…i’m still mad at you.” you whisper shakily. he just nods, almost standing up in defeat.

“but i still want you to stay, asshole.” you utter.

the both of you sigh in relief.

he silently picks you up and pulls you into bed, not caring if all his hoodies fell to the floor, because now you had the real thing. he was so warm, like the sun shining through the clouds just after a hailstorm. he holds onto you like you’d suddenly be ripped away from him, smelling his cologne on your hair. he lets you trace tiny hearts onto his chest, that you maybe haven’t forgiven him, but still need him around. maybe thats enough for him.

and so katsuki bakugou was proved right once again. that he got you back- and he was never gonna let you go again.

tags!

@eyesforbkg @m-0ona @aise-30 @whenanafallsinlove @rnyadlcn @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @vikizzy @im-in-too-much-fandom-help @gina239 @randomrosie01 @heartsform33 @yourmajestyqueena @getou0309 @urlocalgayblueberry @brbwritingfanfic @sky2lar @alligator-person @bkgtskisblog @juststayyoasshome @leonesimp @tanjirofan63 @gabby-ha

some of @s weren’t working im so sorry 😭 i’ll just dm you!

[declareqenius]

some would sing and some would scream

summary: your girlfriends are two of the best mob bosses in the city. you and natasha were out for a nightly walk, both feeling restless as you awaited wanda’s return from a business trip. it was going well, until someone got the jump on both of you. 

pairings: WandaNat x Reader

warnings: blood, violence, knives, being tied up, stabbing, passing out

a/n: hey guys! here’s another one. i have no idea how mobs work, which is probably a good thing, but i hope it makes enough sense. second part, anyone? let me know what you think! wanda is barely here but is mentioned throughout. 

Part 1 | Part 2 

It’s been days since you and Natasha have seen Wanda. Days, maybe a week, since you were both taken by the henchmen of an enemy family; the Celestials. They have nerve, you’ll give them that, but you know as soon as Wanda and the rest of your family finds your location, they won’t know what hit them. 

The metal chair is cold against your legs and the restraints around your wrists are digging uncomfortably into your skin. You know the more you struggle, the worse it will be, but you need to at least try. There are cuts on either cheek and one gash on your thigh- which is exposed because you decided to wear shorts that fated day. You started regretting your decision yesterday because they kept their torture room freezing, and although you reside in New York, the cold has never been- and never will be- your friend. 

Natasha sits next you in a chair identical to yours. Her restraints are different, though, and it’s obvious the Celestials know how big of a threat she is. She’s continuously struggled to get out of them and your heart pangs in your chest because part of you knows it’s because she hates seeing you hurt. 

Your girlfriend is safe from cuts and gashes and it’s all due to them wanting to get under her skin. They know of the relationship you share with the two powerful mob leaders, and they’re trying to use it to their advantage. 

Natasha doesn’t break easily. Neither does Wanda. Everyone knows this, including you, but Nat barely lasted ten minutes when Najma- the leader of the Celestials- started dragging the knife across your thigh. She begged her to take her instead, but Najma was quick to assure that any torture you faced would be dragged out. 

“Nat. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.” Your firm voice cuts through the thick silence and leaves no room for argument. You’d stopped struggling five minutes ago when you realized it wouldn’t help, but Natasha kept it up and the redness around her wrists started to worry you. 

“I need to get out before they come in again. Need to get you untied.” Her voice is gravelly and preoccupied, and her plight is obvious. The only thoughts swarming her head are about getting you out of there unharmed. 

“And then what? You fight them off with nothing and we die trying to escape? We leave Wanda alone? She’ll never forgive us for that. We have to think about this, Natasha.” 

You’re honestly surprised how calm you were, considering the situation. But you know Wanda is on a murderous rampage and Natasha is going through anger induced anxiety at the mere thought of either of you not making it out of this, so you’re left being the reasonable one. 

“I am thinking about this, Y/N!” 

Her chair clangs to a halt as she stops struggling with a frustrated huff. You know that if the two of you weren’t in the hands of your family’s greatest rival, then your girlfriend would let her tears flow free. The only sign that she had any intent of crying before she remembered where you were was her red nose. 

“I’m thinking about it,” she says defeatedly, yet firmly. “Najma is going to come back any minute and she is going to harm you in unimaginable ways and I can’t stop her because I’m tied to this stupid fucking chair.” 

“Natty,” you say softly, “look at me, please?” 

God, you wish you could reach out and touch her. It takes a moment for her to find some semblance of composure so she can look you in the eyes instead of staring guiltily at the gash in your thigh. 

“Listen to me, okay? I need you to hear me,” you start, waiting until Natasha subtly nods her head to continue, “You aren’t going to tell them anything. No matter what they do to me-” 

“But-” 

“No. Listen. Whatever they do to me, I need you to grin and bear it until Wanda gets here or you have a secure plan to get us out. It’s going to be painful for both of us, but I’m a big girl, I can handle it, okay?” 

“Detka, I don’t know if I can-” 

“Natalia. I knew what I was getting into the moment you and Wanda told me what you did for a living. I knew it would happen eventually. There’s only so much protecting my knights in shining fedoras,” you give her a gentle grin at your joke, “can do. I need you to promise me. No matter how much pain I’m in. We need to wait it out. That’s all we can do right now, my love.” 

Natasha looks like she desperately wants to argue again, but you both know she’s only got so much fight left and she needs to save it for when Najma comes back. You try not to imagine what the leader of the Celestials has in store for you; which ways your body will be bloodied and scarred, but it’s hard when Natasha’s brain is going a mile a minute and the blood from the gash on your leg won’t stop dripping down your thigh. 

“Do you remember our very first date?” You ask, a small smile on your face as you look up at your girlfriend. 

“Malysh-” 

“Nat, please. I can’t sit in silence.” 

She sighs and looks away for a moment. To compose herself. You fear that sentence nearly sent her over the edge, but a moment later she nods. 

“Like it was yesterday. Wands and I had thirty minutes to clean ourselves up after having gotten back from taking care of something. We were so worried we were going to be late, and so we texted you that work held us up for longer than we anticipated. You were so patient with us. You still are so patient with us.” 

“Have to be with you two. Who knows what kind of trouble you got into when it was just the both of you parading around. Someone has to keep you in check, make sure you have something, someone to come home to. Both of you.” 

“And we cherish every moment we get to spend with you, detka.” 

Natasha says it so sincerely and it pushes you over the edge. Your eyes start watering and while it’s not a full-on sob, your tears do fall because you know where Natasha’s mind has gone. Where it has been this entire time. 

Then, it feels as if all the air in the room is sucked out. All the love you felt from Natasha moments ago is gone when you see her face switch to one you had only seen a handful of times. Your girlfriends try to keep you out of the business as much as they can, but you were still privy to some things. Natasha’s expression looked distant and blank, and you hear clapping from the far right corner of the room. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you keep your features neutral. 

Najma. 

“Aw, how sweet. Quite a show you both put on. If this were reality television, my family would be rooting for you. Little lovebirds. It’s a shame your other girlfriend isn’t here. I’m sure it would spice things up.” 

“If she were here, you would be dead already,” you snark. 

“Dorogoy-” Natasha starts in warning, but Najma is quick to cut her off. 

“It’s okay, Ms. Romanova. She won’t be able to... joke around much once I’m done with her. I must say, I have been quite lenient and I am a sucker for a love story, but I fear it is time to get some answers. So, every time you refuse to answer one of my questions, your little girlfriend here will endure some kind of pain. Haven’t decided yet. Won’t decide until that moment. Whatever feels right, I suppose. Nod to let me know you understand.” 

Natasha nods. 

Your eyes bore holes into the side of her head and you hope she hears your pleas. Your reminders. 

“Good. We’ll start off easy, then.” Najma takes her knife out of her boot and slowly walks over to you. She places the tip on your upper arm. The way she’s looking at you, as if you were a turkey to be carved instead of eaten and enjoyed, chills you to the bone. 

“What is your name?” Najma directs the question towards Natasha. 

“Natasha Romanova-Maximoff.” 

“Hm. That’ll do. What is your wife’s name?” 

“Wanda Romanova-Maximoff.” 

These were all answers that Najma knew already, and you’re unsure of why she’s wasting time. Not that you’re complaining. The more time she takes to interrogate Natasha, the more time Wanda has to find you both. The only name Najma shouldn’t know is yours. Natasha hasn’t once used it since you’ve been kidnapped, and you figure it’s for a reason. Your only family is the one you were welcomed into when you officially became Wanda and Natasha’s girlfriend, but your name not being out there kept you safer. 

“And what is your girlfriend’s name?” 

There it is. 

You glance at Natasha, fully aware of the knife on your arm but deeming it safe enough to move the slightest amount. Natasha’s eyes catch yours and you don’t have to plead with her this time. Her decision was made the moment her green eyes met your own. 

Keeping your name a secret gives both of you a better chance when Wanda breaks the both of you out of this place. 

So, when Natasha moves her eyes from yours to look at Najma, you prepare yourself for the pain. 

The redhead doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Najma knows it isn’t a question she’s going to answer simply by the blank determination written across her face. 

“Very well then,” the Celestial leader says, bored as she drags the knife slowly across your upper arm. 

You stare at Natasha the entire time. 

Natasha stares at your arm, and you know it is her way of punishing herself. 

As if being locked in a freezing room with no way out wasn’t punishment enough. Your girlfriend forces herself to watch as one of her foes marks your body with their knife. Their torture. 

It makes her angry and she clenches both her jaw and her fists to keep herself from pulling on the restraints, having learned her lesson twenty minutes earlier. 

Wanda will never let her live this down. 

You’re glad it’s not Wanda with you. She would have been able to kill everyone by now, but if they had put special cuffs on her and made her watch as they tortured you, you know she would have given everything up to ensure you lived. 

You appreciate how much your girls love you, but the family wouldn’t have been able to take that kind of hit. So, you’re glad it’s Natasha who is with you, and maybe you’ll get the chance to reiterate that to Wanda someday soon. It will surely keep them from biting each other’s heads off while you’re recovering. 

“Next question.” 

You can hear the Cheshire Cat-like grin Najma wore as she placed the knife in a different spot on your body. This time, your thigh, about two inches higher than the first gash she gave you. 

“Where is the Mind stone?” 

Again, Natasha doesn’t answer and you audibly keel over in pain when the knife creates an identical gash to the one that came before it. 

Again, Natasha watched the knife slide across your thigh. 

“Hard eggs to crack, but I have only just begun.” 

Now, Najma is in front of you and you barely have enough time to process the cool metal of the knife being dragged down your face. Your breathing is heavy, but you muster the most spiteful expression you can. 

“I would really hate to see this beautiful face marred, Natasha. It would be such a shame. She could pose for those magazines. I hear it is great work, but enough small talk. Maybe I won’t have to mar your beautiful face, my little paaltoo.”

You decide then that you only like Urdu when Kamala speaks it. 

“All Natasha has to do is give me the location of the Mind stone and your pretty little face will go unmarked. Don’t worry, it will only hurt a little bit. It’s more of a... reminder for your lovers.” 

Even if your girlfriend’s face remains neutral, you can tell she’s seething on the inside. You glance at her for a moment and you know that you need to stall more. Enough for Wanda to find both of you. Nat can’t do anything but not answer Najma’s questions, and eventually Najma will tire of the game she’s playing. Who knows what that would look like? You doubt she would kill you quickly and undermine the work she’s already done on you, but if Najma doesn’t have something to quell her violent hunger, you don’t know what will happen to you or Natasha. 

So, you have to keep Najma entertained. Interested. Piece of cake. 

When you know that her focus is on Natasha’s expression and not your “pretty little face”, you send a guilty look to your girlfriend. Better to ask for forgiveness later. Then, you muster up all your courage and remember all the times you’ve seen Wanda and Natasha interrogate people, and you speak.

“What makes you think Natasha will talk? You’ve gotten this far and she hasn’t said a word. Maybe she doesn’t care about me as much as you think she does.”

“Mm, you’re not going to get me that easy my little paaltoo, I hear how she speaks to you. How she looks at you. And how she seethes every time my blade runs across your delicate skin. The love this woman holds for you is insurmountable. Don’t think me a fool.” 

“You picked the wrong one.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Blood runs down the side of your arm and thigh and you’ve long forgotten how to feel the searing pain. 

“The wrong girlfriend. You should’ve picked Wanda. Natasha is tough to crack but she’s been through a lot. Wanda, though? Wanda has a heart of gold and the sight of me in danger would have had her spilling all of her secrets. Or it would have sent her on a murderous rampage and we’d be out of here already, but you never know. All I’m saying is that Wanda would have given you so much more than Natasha ever will.” 

Your nonchalance must have been jarring to both the women in the room, and you’re certain that Yelena, your best friend, would have been proud of you. 

“I’m holding a knife to your face and you have the audacity to judge my methods?” 

Najma pierces your skin with the point of the blade and it almost makes you laugh. 

“What are you going to do? Kill me? You would lose leverage over Wanda and Natasha. You wouldn’t give that up so easily.” 

“And what makes you think I couldn’t find something else they hold dear to them?” 

“You would be searching for the rest of your life.” 

It’s a big statement. Words that probably hold a lot more weight than anything you have ever said before, but you’re aware of what you mean to your girlfriends. How all of you balance each other out in ways that no one expects upon first meeting the three of you. In fact, you’re so certain of your feelings for them and vice versa, that if you make it out of this alive, then you’re going to propose to them. 

Wanda would absolutely kill Natasha if you didn’t make it out of this alive. Guilt would eat both of them up, but better one of you makes it out than neither of you. 

Another slash of the knife on your cheek and you can feel the sting of the blade as Najma follows all the way through with a flick of her wrist. 

“Natasha, tell you girlfriend to shut up.” 

“I’ve never listened to Natasha.” You’re a bit of a brat sometimes, it’s true. “Besides, I’m going to bleed out soon anyway. Then my lovely girlfriend won’t have anyone to talk to. That would be such a shame because I’m a gem.” 

You decide then that you’ve stalled long enough, and really all you did was give your already gushing wounds time to bleed even more. The light headedness is starting to catch up to you and you sincerely hope that you’ve done enough. 

Najma doesn’t pay any mind to your talking, probably realizing what exactly it is that you were doing, and instead she focuses on Natasha again. 

“I will ask one more time.” 

This time Najma positions the knife in front of your stomach and you don’t know if she’s going to stab you or cut you, but you’re not sure she knows either. Frantic green eyes lock onto yours as you get a good look at Natasha. Your eyes are calm as you try memorize everything from the way her braid sits on the side of her shoulder to the perfect shape of her lips. Fear pulses through you and you know that somehow it is not entirely your own, but you shake your head all the same. 

You will not be the reason your family falls. You will not be the reason that Wanda and Natasha have no home to go back to. 

“Where. Is. The Mind stone?” 

Nat’s eyes are pleading but yours remain blank and you know she has to bring forth years and years of training to look away from you and instead at Najma. So the woman holding the knife can see the defiance in her eyes along with her lips pursed in a straight line. Natasha isn’t going to say a word. 

The knife plunges into your left side and you don’t scream, you aren’t going to give your captor that satisfaction, but the sound you do make is enough to have Natasha looking away and a single tear rolling down her cheek. To your confusion, though, Najma doesn’t withdraw the weapon. She leaves the blade inside of you and brushes off her hands before grabbing you by the chin so you can look directly in her eyes.

“Don’t breathe too hard, my little paaltoo, otherwise a vital organ will be caught and I would so love to torture you more later.” 

With that, she lets go of you and walks out. You think that having to look into that woman’s eyes was worse than any of the torture she’s inflicted on you. 

“Natty,” you breathe, voice worn and your eyes wanting to shut already. You’ve never been stabbed before and the pain plus your other wounds is too much. 

“Detka, I’m so sorry,” Natasha’s voice breaks and your heart aches for her. 

“Shhh. Don’t apologize, my love.” Breathing is starting to get really hard. “Natty I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything, malyshka.” 

You know Nat is desperate to keep you talking. Keep you awake. Alive. You don’t want to give up just yet. Wands will be here soon, you can feel it. 

“I think,” your head lolls to the side for a moment, “I think I only,” you breathe in and out, “like Urdu when Kamala,” you swallow because your mouth feels really dry all of a sudden, “speaks it.” 

“Me too, detka. Me too.” 

You can feel yourself fading, and you don’t think the knife has hit anything vital yet, but maybe a nap would help lessen the pain. Just a quick one. 

Your head lolls forward and it jostles the blade a little. You can hear Natasha’s panic, how her voice wavers and breaks as she addresses you. 

“Detka, baby, you’re doing so good for me, love. You’ve done so good. I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? Just a little longer. For Wanda. Please, baby. Need you to stay awake.” 

You blink your eyes open and muster enough strength to look up at her. 

“I’m so tired, Natty.” 

“I know, baby. I know, but I need you for just a little longer, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can, Natty.” 

Breathing hurts and blood is sticky. Your head once again droops forward.

“Please. Please, Y/N!” 

Natasha’s cries are suddenly drowned out by the door opening. You assume it’s Najma, because even in your drowsy state, you didn’t miss the fact that Natasha screamed your name. 

But then there’s an explosion and you’re able to open your eyes just enough to see swirls of scarlet red surrounding the room. You can’t hang on any longer, but you hope that Wanda and Natasha will forgive you as you finally let your eyes close all the way and your body slump forward in the metal chair you were tied to. 

The last thing you felt was Natasha’s hands on you, trying to wake you up, and the last thing you heard was Wanda’s agonizing screams.

[fev3rish]

so um, can we get some kenji Sato x Baseball reader? something like enemies to lovers, where Kenji is jealous of the reader for being one of the best baseball players in the women's league in Japan? to the point where some people say the reader is better than Kenji at the game? (or something like that idk loll) (I'm NOT good at english, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes or something like that)

PUZZLE PIECES. kenji sato x reader

you truly held no ill intent—you just couldn’t stand him sometimes—and maybe there was potential between the two of you. not chemistry. potential. potential to be friends. not anything else. you wouldn’t mind if anything else came to be, though.

cw. i decided to combine these two requests because it would be easy to fit them into a story. rivals -> friends -> lovers, reader is shown to be kind of nonchalant, drunk confession, frequent and unpredictable perspective switches, gn!reader, reader’s ex is desperate, kenji and reader banter for half the story. if i wrote it in full, it would be too long to share to tumblr but too targetted to share anywhere else, so it’s only 4.5k words, weird pacing of the story, there are sprinkles and references to my previous drabbles with kenji, all around a rollercoaster, i wrote this in a day so i apologize if it’s wonky as hell, unproofreaded, lowercase intended, rivalry is kind of one sided because reader is written to have a sort of muted admiration of kenji

notes. i’m not as confident with this story as i am for my other ones :( i usually write mini fics, but this is a full fledged one shot and i am very critical of my one shots. i hope i don’t disappoint ! thank you all for enjoying my work :)

you remember him more than anyone. kenji sato, baseball star, highschool heartthrob with a heart of stone. you remember how arrogant he was too. you hate to admit it, but you understood why. you wanted to be as skilled as he was, and he didn’t believe you could be anything else but a water runner—something he said. to your face, too. you didn’t find it in yourself to hate him, infact—you were his biggest admirer then.

even now, you are. just subtly. he is the first name that comes up on your feed, and the last thought that leaves your mind when you finally go to bed. you smile, lazily, as you scroll through your phone and see his latest win. you want to dislike him, but you can’t; so you pretend. you filter it. it’s an act that comes down whenever you are in the comfort of your own home; where you can freely adore him.

he’s still so fucking cool.

kenji sunk into his beloved couch, exhausted after yet another game. he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, relishing in the afterglow of victory. “hey mina!” he called, a cocky grin on his face as the a.i. assistant glided over to him. “yes ken?” she asks, knowing that he’s probably up to something but giving in anyway. “who can outmatch the greatest living player?!” he boomed, his voice bouncing off the walls as he flat-out refused to get off his high.

mina, tonight, decided to have fun. so, with a quick skim of the internet, and a particularly informative article—she pulled up a face on a projected screen, and replied with an answer he didn’t expect. a name. kenji’s smile left as quick as the light in his eyes did. “what? no way!” he laughed it off, but the faraway look in his eye said it all. it got under his skin. what did you have that he didn’t? that made you better than him? what was your batting average? how many stolen bases did you have? how can he schedule a ‘friendly’ game between your team and his?

how can he win?

“no way, mina.” he scoffed, trying to collect himself—the afterglow leaving him for a dullness he couldn’t explain. “there’s no way i just won one of the biggest games of my life and they’re just there, and the public’s eating them all up and calling them better of a player than i am. what makes them a better player than me?” his arrogant rambling leaves a bitter taste in his mouth—and kenji steps back a bit, actually recollecting himself because he knows better than this. he knows better than to let his emotions get in the way; atleast now. mina’s spinning around in circles, the bot observing kenji’s improvement. if she could, she’d smile. but she can’t, so she speaks to him as if she were smiling. “they cooperate well with their teammates.” she states, simply.

kenji pulls at his hair.

you stare in utter disbelief as the crowd cheers your name, wondering how exactly you got this far. you couldn’t even hold a bat properly once, and now, a couple years later, you run the bases after yet another home run. you’ve been carrying your team, but they’ve been the ones ordering you around because if you’re being honest, you genuinely have no idea what you’re doing. what are you even doing? how have you gotten this far? well, you know the answer—amazing teammates, good eye-to-hand coordination, and most importantly, luck.

kenji sits in the stands, mouth parted as he watches you run. you improved, he can tell, and he hates that he’s proud. the only luck he’s been given is that he’s disguised. his sunglasses don’t show his disdain (is it truly disdain? he wants it to be. he ignores that he’s amazed.) and his facemask, in response to how gagged he was, just wrinkled a bit. “you’re shitting me…” he thinks aloud, watching as you celebrated with your team; another win to cross off.

he tries to leave discreetly, he really does—but you make eye contact with him. he goes rigid. you walk over, bidding farewell to the rest of your group as you approach him. you look up at kenji, and something in you just knows. but you want to pretend, you have to pretend; and it wasn’t your fault if you wanted to have a little fun, too. you put up a sweet, sweet smile—

“are you a fan?” you ask, “would you like my autograph?” you ask again, and he sucks in a breath. no one is here, not anyone that matters atleast— everyone’s skittering out of the dome and suddenly kenji is, too. he wants to walk pass you, but in fairness, he was provoked first. “no, actually.” he replies, coolly, and there’s this glint in your eye that has maggots forming in kenji’s stomach, eating away at his insides—or perhaps, they’re butterflies. kenji doesn’t want to think about it. he just wants to think about you. “you win a couple games and suddenly you think you’re the star of the show?” he tilts his head, walking closer to you. his sunglasses are taken off, and now he’s really looking down on you. you, who only shrugs. “i mean, maybe.” you say. “i definitely outshine you though, don’t i?” you retort and he hisses. the scene is reminiscent of two cats, circling eachother as they bare their fangs. “wow, and here i was,” kenji dramatically began, “about to apologize to you for all that shit in highschool!” he continued, and he was about to open his mouth again before you intervened. “oh, you mean where you peaked?”

“excuse me?” said through grit teeth. “highschool?” you chirped, “where you peaked?” “oh, excuse me.” he gasped, taken aback. you snickered, and he sneered. “you’re the worst.“ he leaned in close, eager to get that through your head—eager to get under your skin as much as you got under his, but you only blinked up at him with a slight blush on your face.

“are we about to kiss right now?” you raise an eyebrow promiscuously, and kenji almost claws at you before he clasps his hand together. he stays like that. you take a second to realize he’s doing breathing exercises. “why the fuck is he doing breathing exercises?”

it slips out. it genuinely, truthfully just slips out—you think out loud and kenji sato, the man of japan himself, literally goes red in the face. he turns to you, then turns around and walks away.

even when he’s all red and embarrassed, he is still so freakishly cool.

it seems all kenji wants to do is one up you, and all you really want to do is go to dinner with him. it’s embarrassing, the hardened glare he sends you when he sees you in the stands, ready to watch his games. you want him so bad and he thinks you take joy in his displeasure, and you know that this is such a stupid misunderstanding but it’s… well, it’s fun. and you haven’t had any opportunities to even try and talk to him, because he always gives you sass. how could a man have that much sass? even you don’t know, and you like to think you know everything. you know that kenji’s cute as hell, and that you want him really bad, and that’s all that you need to know. ever.

meanwhile, kenji is irritated at the mention of you—and he makes it known with a scrunch of his nose and a frown on his lips. when you walk into the room, he rolls his eyes. when you run your hands through your hair, you swear you see his gaze linger but you don’t know if it’s truly a gaze, or a glare. you want to speak to him, but with the way he holds his bat like it’s a weapon around you makes it seem like he wants to spar. you do not want to spar. it’s the same as always, today—another game won by the giants, another game you attended, and another game kenji had a harder time locking in on.

you try and try and you keep on trying—actually, you don’t plan on stopping. kenji sees you as an enemy, but all you see in him is a potential husband. he can’t be that bad, right? not as bad as your last one. no one can be as bad as your last one, and it irks you just thinking about him. you don’t even want to call him an ex of yours, because he was never truly yours in the first place.

no, he wasn’t. four months down the drain just like that, because he couldn’t keep it in his pants when a pretty girl asked him to dance.

what a shame.

you had a visceral reaction to your own mind, and your face soured before you even felt it. kenji saw that, and his eyes darkened. “you have a problem with how i play today?” he was up in your face before you knew, his face as sour as yours. you jump back. “why do you care if i do?” you bring up, “you wanna impress me?”

“to hell with impressing you.” “to hell with you.” “oh, you’re the worst.” “is that all you can say?” “if i said all i could, you’d sue me.” “no, i wouldn’t care enough. my parents raised me better.” “so did mine.”

you bite your tongue, then. you’re silent as he looks at you, and under his scrutiny, you shrink. the smirk on his face is smug and insufferable, as expected of someone so hellbent on one upping you.

“hey now, why so quiet?” there he is again, getting all up in your face and rubbing his seven seconds of victory to you. “cat got your tongue?”

“precisely. that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on.” “no, it isn’t.” “yes, it is.” “no, it isn’t.” “no, it isn’t.” “yes it is—hey!” kenji caught himself, or tried to, but it was already way too late. “hah! you’re a complete ditz—“ you exclaimed, before kenji shushed you with a light punch.

“i’ll have you know that we have an exhibition game tomorrow and i plan on destroying you.” he talks big, but the chances of him serving up a win is small. you have to thank kenji for making you more confident in your skills, because of just how butthurt he is over you. he’s waited long for this moment; to finally be able to face off against you—show the people who the top dog truly is—and now he has it.

and he won’t disappoint.

the game ended abruptly due to a kaiju targetting the dome it was set in, and you couldn’t help but notice kenji’s panic in the corner of your eye. you couldn’t blame him, you were scared out of your mind too—but then he didn’t run towards the exit, he ran towards you. “watch out!” he called, and you looked up and froze.

debris was coming down on you, and fast.

when you looked down in a panic, trying to see where to go—ken was no where to be found, and from behind you, the famous ultraman made his appearance. he greeted you, albeit a bit… sassy. a familiar kind, one that you seemed to recognize—you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“bro, can you get moving—i mean— cease this.. dawdling! faithful citizen, leave at once or you might get hurt!” he boomed, his voice echoing the same way a certain other person’s did. he held the debris that was going to crush you in a single hand, and you could only gawk.

who were you to deny ultraman?

after that encounter, you didn’t see each other for a while. it admittedly made you a bit sad, you truly held no ill intent—you just couldn’t stand him sometimes— and maybe there was potential between the two of you. not chemistry. potential. potential to be friends. not anything else.

you wouldn’t mind if anything else came to be, though.

tonight, you had decided to treat yourself; a night at tonkatsu tonki would do for sure. you placed an order and sat tight, bundled up in one of the comfy booths in the corner as you scrolled through your phone. it did do, so far! you felt your muscles loosen and your jaw unclench with each smile sent your way. for once, you felt yourself relax—then you heard someone call out your name. someone you couldn’t forget. not yet, atleast—the wound was still healing. you refused to pick at it even further. you looked up and—“oh fuck.”

“what are you doing here?” your most recent mistake asks. he tries to get close to you, to sit in your booth and disturb your peace—but you stand up before he does. “why do you care?”

“because this was our spot.” he replies, “we came here for our three month anniversar—“ he tries to continue but you’re so tired. you stop him with a raise of your hand, “this was not where we went. you’d have known if you paid attention to me while we were together.” your response is curt, and you see hurt flash in his eyes—similar to the way it flashed in yours whenever he pulled the same bullshit he promised not to pull. “listen, i’m sorry—“ you ignore him the same way he did when you tried to speak. you turn, going back to your booth but he pulls you by the wrist and you realize that he doesn’t want to say sorry.

rather, he wants to show he’s sorry. or maybe that’s not the case either—maybe he wants to make you sorry.

regardless, you yank your hand away and stomp on his foot—he curses. you’re lucky the restaurant’s nearing closing time, otherwise you’d have more of an audience and therefore more of a PR nightmare. he raises his hand, and you raise your own to block what you know will be a hit—but nothing comes. well, no one except kenji. he has his hand on your ex’s wrist, as he squeezes it tight—enough to bruise.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his face is scrunched up in anger, and you sigh in relief. “none of your fucking business.” your ex replies—he tries to act tough, but his voice cracks and you know he’s scared. kenji takes the chance to get a good look at him, and he cracks up. “you… you play for the tigers, don’t you? we decimated you. had your team’s heads on the ground from how embarrassed they were last time we played; you wanna take another defeat?” he snickers. your mouth drops in awe of the sudden juicy drama unfolding, and also partially because kenji is really, really handsome.

the restaurant’s emptied out by now, and you three are only accompanied by the employees—who are reluctantly waiting for the two men to settle their little scuffle. you watch as your ex tries to struggle against him, tries to run off, and the only thought in your mind is: what did i ever see in him?

“let me go!” he yells, “let them go, first.”

your ex looks between him and you, who only calls a waiter over to order a drink. two drinks, to be exact. he stomps out of the restaurant right after. kenji is about to leave, as well, but tonkatsu tonki closes in thirty minutes—and you have a drink and a free seat. he can’t resist. he slides into your booth with an undeniable swagger, relishing in yet another victory as you smile kindly. “you didn’t have to do all that.” you start, sheepishly—he just takes a sip of the drink you ordered him. “yeah, well, i did. what about it?” you raise your hands in mock surrender, and he lets out a lighthearted laugh. “thank you, then. thank you for doing all that.”

“don’t get used to it.” he points, and this time—you laugh. you ask him about his day, and suddenly thirty minutes feels like forever. by the time you two get kicked out of the restaurant, he has your number unblocked and a promise to be annoyed every single day that a part of him hopes you’ll keep.

there was a spark, then, and it lit up so evidently between the two of you. a piece of eachother, found in each other. it was an epiphany to kenji, and an honor for you. you fit together like puzzle pieces, and yet you didn’t even realize it because you were both so intent on making the wrong parts of yourself fit, when they didn’t.

eventually, unblocked numbers turned to frequent messages, and frequent messages turned to inside jokes—inside jokes became personal hangouts. kenji sato found himself a part of your life, and he ended up loving it. your bickering became friendly, and lighthearted bullying was always a welcome notion— he made it a point to beat your ass at baseball as often as he could, but he always took you out to drink, on him. if he won. if he didn’t, you’d be the one treating him. it was a win-win situation for the both of you, even though one of you lost.

eventually, feelings blossomed.

kenji’s smiles made you smile, and he started buying things because those things reminded him of you; his heart beat a little faster as you walked over to greet him, and your cheeks burned whenever he winked at the screen during games. eventually, that friendly banter became more… flirty. you were toeing the line between friends and lovers.

you loved it.

kenji snaked an arm around your shoulder as you sat, thigh pressed against thigh, your head leaning on his bicep. you were at another bar, and ken was in another world. it was no surprise to you that he was a light weight, and with several swigs of his second bottle—he had been reduced to a blabbing baby of a man. a blabbing baby of a man who was getting suspiciously close to you—too close to just be platonic affection. you wonder if he’ll remember this the next day. you hope he doesn’t, with all the nonsense he’s spouting about being ultraman and how saving the city from kaiju is his ultimate duty. it’s going to be embarrassing, especially since it’s in such a public setting.

you take an uber to your house; he’ll have to deal with it if he wants to save his career after all. it’s a complete pain in the ass to haul his ass to the cab, but the way his hair frames his face just right—reddened face still handsome as he glances down at you, you just accept that some men are born as apologies for the existence of the entire male gender.

the entire car ride is full of the uber driver trying not to laugh as you struggle against kenji, who wants to sleep on your lap but can’t because the car is too small. the driver bursts into laughter as kenji starts crying, and you pull out your phone.

it can not be this hard to take care of a drunk man.

kenji is laying on the cold tile of your floor, tapping at the air because he thinks it’s an ipad and you have to resist the urge to just leave him to his own devices. you know damn well he won’t let you, anyway. he’s had his hand wrapped around your ankle for the past two minutes. “kenji.” you start, “let go.”

“erm… no.” “kenji.” “i love it when you say my name.” he says, amidst an abundance of giggles. you’re being pulled down onto the floor with him, and there’s remnants of that one strawberry cocktail he had before shit really hit the fan in his breath. “say my name again.” he asks, and you say it again—not knowing it’ll unleash a conversation you never knew you wanted—needed—to have.

“kenji.” you say his name again, for the third time, your face heating up as he buries his face into your stomach, inhaling your scent. “you’re perfect.” he says, slurring over his words and you freeze. “didn’t know that was something you’d ever say to me. usually, you’d be focused on strategizing how to keep beating me at baseball.” you mutter, softly—and a part of you finds humor in the situation. you want to, atleast. you find no humor, but you do find hope—for what, you don’t know.

“i find myself focusing on you more, hehe—“ you bite your lip. you muffle out his laughs. he’s just drunk. “you know, i’m better than him.” he’s just drunk. “i don’t see why you haven’t just thrown me over your shoulder yet,” he pauses, to let out yet another intoxicated laugh. “if you gave me a chance, i’d prove it too.” he hiccups.

you’re on your tiled floor, laying down with a six foot tall man and he’s confessing his love to you in drunk rambles. he’s promising he’s better than all your exes. he would be.

how did you get here again? why don’t you want to leave?

“bro, i want you so bad….”

ah, that’s why. you turn to face him, and he’s already looking at you. his eyes are glazed over with love so strong you know he’s been hiding it for too long, and you decide maybe it won’t be too bad just laying here. “…how long?” you inquire. his eyes sparkle, “since you ordered me that drink at tonkatsu tonki.”

“that’s a long time.” “i have a hard time communicating how much i truly value a person.” “i can see that.” “i can see you.” “and what do you think?” your lip quirks up, and he grins. “you’re perfect.” his hands find themselves on your waist, and you want to pull back—but he pulls you in faster, not into a kiss, but into a hug. “i’d treat you so good.” he starts again. “better than any one of your miserable exes. i’d take you out on dates weekly, and we’d have movie nights bi weekly where we interchange who picks the movies, and when we go to the bar together, i’ll show you off. when i win my games, i’ll point at you.” he babbles, and you look up at him as you listen to him promise a string of temptations you can’t help but give in to. “i’d treat you so, so good. make you come over, and then come over and ov—“

“okay, i get it.” “can i get you, then?” “maybe, when you’re not drunk.” “i’m not drunk. my name is kenji.” “okay kenji.” “my last name is sato. can you get that too?” “when you’re not drunk, kenji.” “no, it’s just kenji. not drunk kenji.” “do you want to sleep here or in the guest bedroom?” you deadpan. he blinks. “here. it’s comfier.” “okay, goodnight—“ “stay with me. just this once.”

you want to reject him, but you also don’t want to. so you cave, again, to his charms. he holds you so gently, cradling the back of your head with his palm as you listen to him babble. he seems to never stop professing his love for you, and you, lowkey, aren’t complaining. you deal with his blabber until he blacks out, and you look around to see if kenji has all he needs when he wakes up. it’s a chaotic situation, and you’re seconds away from going out of your mind—but you look around as if you’re looking around a baseball field. a glass of water and the bottle of tylenol is in arms reach, his things are on the couch, and you are in his arms.

you don’t want to leave, and it makes you sick.

you wake up and you’re faced with the bare wall and raging back pain. you groan, your eyes scanning the room—kenji isn’t here anymore. you make a mental note to check your phone, later. maybe he texted. you stand up and stretch, and before you can recover, a pair of hands poke your sides. you jump away, shrieking as you’re met with a kenji who’s as equal of a mess as you are. his eyes are framed by dark circles, and his hair isn’t as immaculate as it usually is—it’s the most attractive state you’ve ever seen him in.

“hi.” is all he says, and you take deep breaths. “you’re fucking crazy.” you say, “crazy over you.”

he remembers. your eyes bulge out of your own skull, threatening to fall out at any second, and you hold onto the wall for support as you try to keep it cool. “what—what.” well played. super smooth. the swagger is evident. what time is it? it’s only eleven am and you’re humiliating yourself. you’re dazed as kenji walks over to you, his eyes never once leaving yours—you want to look down, but you can’t stop looking at him. “so…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. not yet, atleast. he’s always been fond of edging. he liked the control, and being controlled— “so?”

“you remember.” you gulp. “i do, yeah.” “okay, well.. what do you think?”

“i think you’re perfect.” he bites the inside of his cheek, “—and i think i could treat you better than him.”

your whole world shakes. your heart’s beating and it bruises your ribs, and that would be enough of a confession—but he continues.

“and i truly don’t see why you haven’t thrown me over your shoulder yet, because i could prove it too.” he’s restating every point he made last night and it’s killing you. your silence only makes him want to continue. “i’ll treat you so good. movies, money, gifts, dates—anything you want as long as it’s you. i’ll treat you better than any one of your miserable exes.” when he smirks, you notice that one side of his lip quirks up higher than the other; a flaw, but one he let you see. no one’s gotten this close, after all. only you.

“that is, if you’ll give me a chance.” his confidence wavers, but the sparkle in his eyes gives you all the convincing you need. “you didn’t need to do all that.” you start, the familiar words rolling off your tongue easily. his smirk becomes a smile. “yeah, well, i did. what about it?”

it’s an unspoken truth that the both of you know. he holds out his hand, and you place your smaller one on top—he inches it closer to his lips, and kisses each knuckle.

he’s all yours.

“you took a long ass time trying to confess. and you didn’t even do it sober.” you call out, and kenji cringes at his own cowardice but he defends himself anyway. “hey! i re-confessed now!”

“re-confess? what?” “i just redid my confession.” “more like re-use—“ “can i kiss you now?”

the question is so sudden, you place your free hand on your chest as you gasp. kenji cringes, again, at how direct he was—he opens his mouth to apologize, but he barely gets a word in.

when your lips find eachother, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

[sukunasbow]

please please please.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!popstar!reader.

warnings: requested by anon and not yet proof read.

in which you finally reveal your relationship in the most unexpected way.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and 3,724,366 others

yourusername something special coming tomorrow night.

view 842,761 comments

user19 any f1 fans? charles in the likes? 👀

user2 probably just a fan of her, as he should be! don’t read into everything so much 🙄

user8 NEW SONG??

user52 IM SO READY

user9 going to be the hit of the summer

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 2,737,862 others

yourusername please please please! link 🔗 in bio my loves. thanks for all the support, wouldn’t be able to create music without all of you.

view 1,623,995 comments

charles_leclerc love you 😍

yourusername my partner in crime

user19 excuse me??

user3 WHAT? THEY ARE ACTUALLY DATING?

user8 girl obviously 😭 the music video is the ultimate hard launch

user27 greatest hard launch of all time

user64 new favourite couple

user15 iconic for revealing the relationship like this

scuderiaferrari please please please come to the next race!

yourusername 😉😉

user7 OH??

user63 we’re getting y/n x charles content now 🫢 so ready

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 4,624,922 others

charles_leclerc stream ‘please please please’

view 1,636,877 comments

yourusername love you love you love you

charles_leclerc love you beautiful girl

user5 CRYING SO CUTE

user91 she got my man 😔😔 (happy for them though they’re adorable)

user0 NAH he got MY GIRL!!

pierregasly catchy song and cute music video ♥️

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername thanks gasly 😻

landonorris watch out everyone, before you know it he’ll be leaving formula one to become a actor

charles_leclerc 🙄🙄

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and 2,727,861 others

yourusername who’s cuter? him or leo?

view 983,622 comments

charles_leclerc me?!

yourusername both of you are cute!

user93 leo for sure 😆

user18 going insane right now you guys are so cute together

user70 my favs 💞

user12 this photo ☺️☺️

[aajjks]

LUCKY (m)

Synopsis. So what’s your answer gonna be? Yes or Yes?

warnings: yändêrê, lövėsïck töjį, söft yändêrê, pösessïvẽnėss, ünsẽttlïng ėnvïöürmēnt, mätürė thëmës, därk thėmės, söft töji and ünhëälthy rëlätïönshįp

note. I’m actually so happy that I managed to write something after more than a month it’s not the greatest piece I have written, but please enjoy it if you can. viewer discretion is as always advised so if any of these themes trigger you just don’t write this. This is purely fictional. ENJOY!

Toji shakes his head, tsking.

No, it’s not the right time he reminds himself.

“babe what are you thinking about?”

Toji blinks twice and focus attention back on you, there you are in your own glory. Literally shining you are so beautiful. How did he get so lucky.

That is a question that he asked himself daily. Every time he goes to sleep, and every time he wakes up.

He is so blessed to have you in his life and he has done nothing to deserve you at all. He knows that. “oh nothing babe I’m just admiring you.” he smiled, his dimples peeking.

You shrug and you both on the movie right in front of you.

“you are really distracted these days though you know?” Toji shifts, he knows that yeah because you are really distracting him.

His attention and his mind is always on you

“babe I can’t help it you’re always on my mind..” he wink at you, his dimples popping that makes your heart beat rise. Toji knows that he’s handsome. 

But still.. whenever you look at him like that, it makes his heart go crazy. Just one look from you and he’s a puddle.

“look at you all cheeky..” you giggle and focus your attention back on the movie. But he just doesn’t move his eyes at all. They’re still stuck on you, watching your every expression watching the way your eyes blink and the way you open your mouth whenever you get shocked.

Everything about you is memorizing

How did he get so lucky?

Toji taps his feet on the floor. Completely focusing on you.

He’s just so obsessed with you, and whatever you do interests him, and amuses him to no limit.

“Hey yn…” he tries to call out your name again trying to take your attention back on him. He scoots in closer to you. You tied your hat suddenly at him, and it almost makes him gasp out of surprise.

You two are very close right now.

“ what is it, Toji?”

He gives you a smile, but that’s not the innocent kind and you know it, he’s definitely got something up his sleeve and you know it.

“Nothing just wanted to ask you a question and I want an honest answer.. and probably the answer that I want to hear.” he whispers, pressing his lips onto your neck, littering butterfly kisses on the skin.

His gray eyes are set on you like you’re his prey.

And he’s the predator. He finally stops, kissing your neck and he gives you another smile, his full teeth on display.. the atmosphere shift suddenly.

Something is different about his aura.

You hear him click his tongue, and he licks his lips, and inhaling and exhaling.

“You’ll always you will always be mine, right?”

A fat silence falls between you two. You furrow your eyebrows, the question has caught you offguard, because he rarely asks you things like these.

Why would he ask this so randomly right now? The thing about him is that you can never truly tell what goes into his brain he’s so mysterious, and he only shows what he wants to show you.

“Come on baby answer me.” he licks his lips once again.

“of course.”

“Then you won’t mind it if I ask you to marry me.”

Your eyes widen at that. Now where did this come from?

“Why would you bring marriage up all of a sudden?” You question him, suddenly All curious.

“Just answer my question please and you know better than to say no. Right princess?”

Oh, you recognize that look and tone. it is the same look and tone and that has a questioning your relationship for a while.

It is the same tone that makes you realize about how unsure you are to marry someone like him. He’s unpredictable.

And that’s dangerous.

But that smile of his is even more dangerous.

“Come on I’m waiting.”

You shouldn’t piss him off. Because you don’t want people to die. You should know better than to say no.

“I-I.. of course when the time is right.” You smile back at your boyfriend, Toji smiles, even wider, his eyes getting dark, you cannot see a hint of gray in them anymore. It’s like he’s possessed by a demon.

Your breath is hitched in your throat.

“Good girl.. my good girl.. Ahhh I am literally so lucky, the luckiest man ever”

[lild00td00t]

Hi, I hope you are doing well! Can I request headcanons on how Crocodile, Buggy, Mihawk and Doflamingo would propose to their s/o or how they would react if their s/o was the one to propose to them? (Which ever you feel like is fine! :))

Have a great day!

One Piece War Lords: Proposing to their S/O

This was so adorable thank you for requesting the War Lords!! I’ll have to write a part 2. Buggy was honestly my favorite for a bit… 👉🏻👈🏻 but these are gonna be so HELLA friggin cheesy. I’m a hopeless romantic.. so please… COURT ME LIKE WE’RE IN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.

Buggy

• He’s so nervous, his hands are clammy, even on the inside of his gloves sweat is lining along the fabric of them. He’s talked it over to himself multiple times, rationalizing the best and worst case scenario.

• He can’t help but melt when he sees you with the promise ring he gifted. He sweats bullets when you tease him about getting married… at dinner he nearly choked, and poor Mr.3 nearly had a heart attack just trying to dislodge the food that got caught in his throat. But he felt like that a majority of the times you discussed it. Like something was lodged in his throat and cutting off his air.

• So when you’re watching the crew bring a haul back on the ship, hands on your hips in a relaxed stance, you barely notice when he slips a ring on your finger, and he discreetly prays you don’t say anything about it until you screech and throw your arms around him, his body probably splits in 2 out of shock- this poor man -

• “ How does it feel knowing you’re going to be married to the future pirate king ?! Flashy ?! As it should feel?! “ Then the second you romanticize over the idea he practically hemorrhages 🥲

Mihawk

• The most poetic. God - he probably leaves you little poems every where, and they’re all based on you <3

• Your dates are so adorable. Like picnics, or going on row boats. It’s so quiet on the water, so you don’t notice when he slips down on one knee, clasping your hands in his while presenting a ring.

• You nearly flip the boat when you finally comprehend what’s happening but luckily your better half is much more calm and collected.. he was prepared for this reaction.. atleast he thinks he was -

• He kisses your knuckles, then overlaps your hands with his and holds them to his heart

• “ It seems as though the love saga of my poems will continue until death do us part…“

Crocodile

• Posessive..

• He truly is materialistic and is telling the truth. You genuinely will get what you want. But he can see it in your eyes that you’re not after his money, or his valuables or even his status. He can see the way you adoringly look up to him when he talks. And he’s not used to such an innocent form of love you offer.

• He feels that you must be protected, for what you make him feel is vulnerability. Which scares him. Because no one has ever made him feel that way before. So when the time is right, most likely on a starry night when you’re on a walk he’ll stop, just long enough to kneel and pull out the box, just long enough for you to realize what he’s doing. And with that, he confesses his love

• “ With this ring, you are mine.. whatever you want you can have. You will always be treated with my respect and my love, nothing will ever be enough to satiate how I feel for you. No amount of gold compares to that ring on your finger, for it holds the greatest power in all the world.. my promise to you. “

Doflamingo

• Like crocodile he’s possessive.. but with a sweet?? Spin ?? To it ???

• The moment he slips the ring on your finger he brings your hand to his lips for a sweet kiss, giving you that bone chilling smile while keeping his lips pressed to your skin.

• He doesn’t make a big, fancy show out of it. Because he knows that you don’t need everyone to know. It’s obvious that you’re his

• You listen when he talks. You’re never put off by his nightmares or bad moods. You urge him to talk about his brother and family. You talk about starting a new one… as a second chance.

• “ A second chance for the Heavenly Demon.. “ he thinks to himself, lost in thought. You weren’t scared to say that he was flawed, but it didn’t matter, because you could work on it together

• “ As long as you are mine, you will be taken care of and no one, I mean no one, will ever mistreat you ever again, lest they want my wrath… “ And he means it. He means every word of it. He would wage wars in your name, bring cities to the ground, and split the ocean in two if he could, unlike crocodile, who is alittle more materialistic with his promises. <3

[hotpinkstars]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[pudgedork]

there are so many enjoyable milestones in a feedee’s weight gain journey. of course, there are the numbers and stats: 300 pounds, 400 pounds, 500 pounds, the day you weigh twice as much as someone your height should, or three times, or four…

but there’s something special about the tangible signs of just quite how far you’ve let yourself go. of all of these, the greatest is the day you realise you’re too fat to touch yourself. the moment it dawns on you that you’ve packed so much fat onto your frame, you need to rely on someone else to get you off. so far off the deep end of your kink that you can’t even properly enjoy it independently.

other achievements are great; becoming too heavy for your first scale, outgrowing seatbelts and requiring an extender, or reaching the point where you can’t tie your own shoe laces due to all that squishy belly in the way.

if you squint a bit though - and you’re deep enough in denial - you can convince yourself that these aren’t really your fault. you aren’t that fat, not really. the scale was cheap; they probably cut costs and that’s why the limit's so low. seatbelts are designed for skinny people, so even if you are a little pudgy now it’s clearly an oversight in the design. shoes shouldn’t even have laces actually; we’ve come up with better designs at this point. it’s unreasonable of them to assume everyone has the flexibility to reach down like that!

but getting so fat that you can’t pleasure yourself; there’s no way to spin that. you can’t blame a company for that. you can’t blame cost-cutting. you can’t ignore it. it's all on you. you’ve overindulged so excessively - and so relentlessly - that your gut has swollen to a size that evolution itself didn’t anticipate. how could it? in what scenario would a person ever have such an abundant supply of food – and lack of self-control – for this to become a problem?

yet, here you are. stuffed full of thousands of calories of junk once again, you try to reach over your rolls like normal to give yourself the release you crave; but they seem just a little bigger than last time. it’s fine, you planned ahead for this. your toy can reach the last little part of the way. except this time, it doesn’t. you wiggle it helplessly, but it’s not happening.

you shuffle your mass around on the couch, trying to contort yourself to an angle where you can reach with a pudgy fingertip. every movement makes you more breathless, and the sweat is pouring off you. this is the most exercise you’ve done in who knows how long, and it’s all in an attempt to simply get yourself off.

exhausted, you flop back and give in. you feel defeated. humiliated. what the fuck have you done to yourself? a rare moment of clarity. this was never supposed to get this out of hand. you don’t even know how heavy you are, since you couldn’t be bothered buying another replacement scale after the last one caved in on itself. it’s been months since you left the house; even if you wanted to, you're not convinced anybody manufactures clothes that could contain you.

sure, you wanted to get fat. you loved it. the thrill of watching the number on the scale climb, bursting out of clothes, every inch of your body coated in an ever deepening layer of supple flab. but this… this was too much now. you’d ignored all the signs so far, but this one wasn’t going unheeded. your loved ones were embarrassed enough already by what you’d become, but they hadn’t seen you in at least a year. what the hell would they say now? all that potential squandered for a life of obscene gluttony, entirely committed to hedonism.

the thought's cut short by a deep rumble from your belly. you’ve gone half an hour without shovelling calories down your throat, and it wants to know what the hold up is. you hear a car pull into the drive. your partner’s home from work. the front door opens, and within seconds they’re sinking their hands into your mountainous belly and greeting you with a passionate kiss.

they’re obsessed with you, as you are with them. they always dreamed of enabling a whale to live out their fantasies. you’ve been more than happy to do just that. before you have a chance to air your worries, they jump in first to tell you they picked up food on the way home. family-sized orders from each of your favourite fast food places, plus enough snacks to last an average person a month.

well, maybe you could reconsider. they're already used to helping you with things you can't do at your size, after all. maybe you could get a little bigger, just for them.

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

The first time Eddie calls Wayne 'Dad' he's three years old. He's been staying at Wayne's for a few days now; dropped off by his parents without warning and with the vague promise that they'd be back for him soon, already screaming at each other before they're back in the car and speeding off out of sight. Wayne doesn't even have a change of clothes for him, doesn't have any toys or books or much of an idea how to take care of a toddler. Luckily the kid seems happy enough getting into every nook and cranny of the trailer, and toddling around watching Wayne clean up in Eddie's wake like a particularly rambunctious shadow.

Right now he's sat on the kitchen floor, one of Wayne's baseball caps hanging off his tiny head, bashing happily at the array of pots and pans he's dragged out of the cupboards. It's one hell of a racket, but after three days of this either Wayne's headache can't get any worse or he's starting to get used to Hurricane Eddie. Besides, it's good to see the boy having fun, unbothered by whatever chaos has been going on at home.

The crashing comes to a sudden stop, silence ringing through the trailer, and Wayne looks over to see Eddie swaying in place, blinking like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The boy's like a puppy, Wayne's learning. Either he's bouncing off the walls or he's asleep, not a whole lot of in-between.

"You tired, kid?"

"No," says Eddie, even as his head droops and a yawn near bigger than he is shakes its way through him.

"Uh-huh. Come on, Charlie Watts; let's get you to bed."

Eddie lets Wayne scoop him up into his arms with only a half-hearted whinge in response. He doesn't even have the energy to fight off Wayne's attempts to brush his teeth and scrub away the grime Eddie somehow manages to accumulate over the course of a day, already drifting off against Wayne's shoulder as he carries Eddie down the hall and tucks him into bed.

"Night, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie murmurs as Wayne's about to turn off the light.

He freezes in place. The hell's he supposed to say to that? Your dad's not here, kid; God only knows when he's coming back? There's no need to upset the boy. But there'll be hell to pay if Wayne's brother comes back for Eddie only to find out he's taken to calling Wayne 'Dad' instead.

Luckily for Wayne, Eddie's fast asleep before he can figure out what to say for the best.

He presses a kiss to Eddie's mop of curls, and closes the door behind him.

.

Eddie's nine years old now. He's still short, still so skinny he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, close to bald 'cause the kid can't go two weeks without catching lice, but he seems happier these days than he has in a good long while. That's all that matters to Wayne.

It's his first birthday since Wayne officially became Eddie's guardian – probably the first birthday anyone's ever given a shit, considering the way Eddie's eyes turn to saucers when Wayne hands him his gift.

"Holy shit!" Eddie says as he opens the case and pulls the acoustic guitar from inside. It's not much, just a beaten up old thing Wayne bought off one of the guys at work, but Eddie clutches it reverently, pulls it into his lap like he's amazed he's being allowed to touch it.

"Watch your language," scolds Wayne. He doesn't have the heart to be stern, though. Not when Eddie's staring down at the guitar as if it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

He watches with a smile as Eddie plucks tentatively at the strings. Maybe he'll come to regret giving Eddie a way to make even more noise than usual, but it might at least manage to hold his focus, maybe even keep him still for more than five minutes at a time.

And God knows, after the past couple years the kid deserves something special.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Dad." Eddie's head snaps up, and his grin falters as he looks over at Wayne sat beside him. "Uncle Wayne, I mean," he says quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He gives Eddie a gentle pat on the back. It's enough for the kid to brighten up again, his attention already back to his guitar, the moment forgotten. "Now how 'bout you take that to your room and start practicing while I fix us some breakfast?"

"Birthday pancakes?" says Eddie as he follows Wayne into the kitchen with a hopeful grin, still clutching the guitar against his chest.

"I don't remember promising birthday pancakes."

"I remember, old man."

"Who're you calling old, you little punk?" Wayne says, and shoos Eddie back out of the kitchen. "Go on, get out of here."

He watches Eddie bound down the hall to his bedroom, and after a moment the first clumsy notes fill the trailer.

 .

When Eddie's fourteen Wayne gets a call from the sheriff's office, and he arrives at the station to find Eddie cuffed to one of the desks, sullen and stubborn and looking too much like Wayne's brother for comfort. It's not the first time Eddie's landed himself in trouble, but it is the first time the cops have been involved.

He just prays it'll be the last. Wayne's seen this story play out enough times to know how it usually ends.

When he catches sight of Wayne waiting for him, Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"I 'spose you're about to tell me it was all Jeff's idea," says Wayne once they've piled back into the truck and put the police station firmly in the rear-view. He's not expecting an answer, doesn't expect Eddie to grunt more than a few words at a time to him lately, but the awkward silence is still too alien for him to let it sit.

"It was my idea."

"So you're stealing cars now, huh?" He keeps his tone light, as if they're just talking about Eddie's latest obsession, like always. As if his newfound hobby isn't breaking into cars over in Loch Nora.

"I wasn't gonna steal–" Eddie starts, before he's clamping his mouth shut like don't talk to cops extends to Wayne as well now. He glares back out of the window.

"You know next time it happens the sheriff ain't gonna be so lenient."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dad." Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that can't quite mask the hurt behind it. "Oh, wait a sec…"

Wayne sighs. The subject of Eddie's dad has come up enough times these past few months they're gonna have to have a good long talk about him sooner or later. "That what this is about?"

"No."

"But he's been on your mind, right?"

He glances over at Eddie. He's slumped even lower in his seat, arms folded tight across his skinny chest, and determinedly not making eye contact.

"Trust me, kid, he ain't anything worth looking up to."

"Yeah, well what if I'm a screw up just like he is?"

"You're not."

Eddie scoffs. Wayne watches him until the light up ahead turns green.

"The way I see it," he says, "your life's 'bout to fork in two different directions. You keep on down this road, you end up either dead or in a cell right next to your old man's."

Eddie's quiet beside him, but Wayne can tell he's listening, can see the little furrow to his brow as he turns the words over in his mind.

"Or, you take all that pain and anger you got inside you, and you turn it into something worthwhile."

Finally, Eddie looks back at him. "Like what?"

"Don't have to be big. Don't have to be important. All that matters is it means something to you."

They slip back into silence for the rest of the drive, but it's a more comfortable kind this time, a thoughtful kind of silence. Wayne kills the engine and they climb out onto the dirt in front of the trailer.

"Uncle Wayne?" says Eddie, his voice small. He's still lingering by the truck when Wayne peers back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," he says. "For being an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ed. And you ain't about to turn into one. Not on my watch."

Eddie's mouth twitches. It's not a smile, but it isn't far off. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid. I promise," says Wayne with a smile of his own, and he curls an arm around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tight as he steers them inside.

 .

At nineteen, Eddie's lying in a hospital bed.

Wayne's been sat at his bedside for God only knows how long at this point – the days have blurred into a steady stream of doctors and beeping machines, hours and minutes fallen to the wayside. The only time he leaves Eddie's side is when Eddie's friends come by to keep their own vigil.

They're all still waiting for him to wake up.

One hand clasping Eddie's, Wayne reads the paper to him to pass the time. He knows Eddie doesn't much care about what's happening out in the real world, and nor does Wayne right now, but any books of Eddie's are lost in whatever mess the quake left of their trailer, and Wayne needs something to keep his eyes from the angry red bruises circling Eddie's neck.

He looks like he's been strung up. The way the town has been baying for Eddie's blood, it wouldn't be much surprise. The rest of his injuries, though – well, no-one seems to have any explanation for those.

Maybe one day Eddie will be able to provide one himself.

There's a tiny noise above him, and Wayne's head snaps up to Eddie's face. He's watched every flutter of Eddie's eyelids, every twitch of his fingers, heart in his throat until the moment passes and Eddie sleeps on. But this time, Eddie stirs.

"Eddie?"

"Dad?"

He frowns with the effort of cracking his eyes open, struggling under the weight of his own body.

"It's all right," Wayne says. He brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheek, careful to avoid the stitches, and squeezes the hand tucked in his tighter. Eddie grips him back. "I'm right here."

Eddie's bleary eyes focus on Wayne, crinkling at the corners with the smile that spreads across his face. "Dad," he rasps again as tears spill down his cheeks.

Wayne's face is wet with his own as he presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "Welcome back, son."

[yaut-jaknowit]

Naww funny asf idea you might like, the reader having a thing for their male yautjas chest, you know overall like “BOOBIES, THE TIDDIES” and their mate just having to put up with their shenanigans

(Don’t forget to stay hydrated🫵)

Boobies, Yes

Pairing: Wolf x Reader

Word Count: 1808

Summary: A menace, a daring menace. That's what you are. Any chance you're given, you attack. How can you resist? They're right there! Your hands need to hold them. They look so heavy for your Yautja.

Author Note: This, this is gold. Tiddies are the best, no matter one who or what. Muscle or not, Yautjas have great boobies. Thank you for this wonderful ask.

Masterlist

Ao3

How could you ignore them? Especially when they’re right there! Even though Wolf was leaner compared to a few of his hunting buddies, he had enough to grab. You snickered quietly as you eyed up the lethal Yautja sitting in his pilot’s chair. He was none the wiser as you stood off to the side. Well, you believed he didn’t know you were there. But this is Wolf we’re talking about. He scented you the moment you entered the room.

One of the things he taught you from the time you’ve stayed with him, you were able to step lightly as you snuck over to him. You kept behind him, bare feet not making a sound on the warm metal floors. A poised hunter, trained from one of the best.

The chair sat about three feet in front of you. This was your chance! You took a step to the right, ready to spring around it and surprise Wolf.

“What do you think you’re doing, little hunter?” The question hung in the air. You tensed up, muscles freezing up. Damn… You stayed where you were, hoping he’ll just brush it by. ‘Hope’ that won’t do much for you in the situation. Wolf said your name, not a warning or anything. He just spoke it.

Air pushed out of your nostrils as airy scoff. Finally, you stepped out from behind the chair and relinquished your hiding spot. Wolf sat relaxed in his seat, one elbow resting on the arm rest. His other limb was messing with a screen. By the looks of it, he was checking his messages. As one of the greatest hunters out there, he was quite busy.

Wolf’s eyes glanced at you for a moment. The Yautja held a nonchalant gaze when he looked at. “What are you doing?” You placed a hand on his unused arm rest and leaned a little in. A playful grin growing on your smug face. You didn’t try to hide it once of ever.

“Oh nothing, nothing at all.” A total lie but he had no idea. Probably. Your eyes flickered down. Target acquired.

Today was a relaxing day. All Wolf was wearing was his loin cloth a leather shoulder guard. The leather band went over his chest and up his shoulder. He was free to show off his body that you loved. You were happy to drink it in. But that’s not why you were standing next to him. There was a special part you were after.

A scaled brow was raised slightly. His gaze was still on the screen before him, pointer finger flicking through messages. Wolf hummed his suspicion at your retort.

Perfect. The grin on your face widened more. Then you attacked. Your free hand surged forward and latched onto one of the pecs of Wolf. You squeezed, the muscle for the second soft, not being flexed. The very next second, they were rock solid in your grasp.

A massive, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, easily swallowing it up. The limb tugged you forward towards Wolf. Instantly, you gulped and laughed softly, almost nervously.

Deep down, you don’t know how this alien tolerates your antics, but he does.

Said Yautja leaned in close, hot breath fanning over your skin. “What do you think you’re doing?” he reilerated and emphasized by pulling on your limb to get you even closer. Wolf flicked his upper mandible. It brushed against your cheek.

You kept that grin plastered on your features. “What do you mean?” you asked of him oh-so innocently. All of that was a lie.

Wolf huffed then his eye glanced down at your hand still holding his pec. You still pretended to not know what he’s referring to. This is what you loved about him. One of the many things you loved about Wolf. He let this happen. He let you fool around – safely of course.

Since you hadn’t moved the limb, Wolf flexed his muscle you were holding onto. He left it untensed once he was done showing off. This was a new opportunity. Your hand squeezed it again. You giggled excitingly. Afterwards, you were able to remove Wolf’s hand on you and walk off.

The entire interaction confused Wolf. He let you go though and returned to the screen before him. An amused smile on his face as he shook his head. Whatever will he do with you?

.

That was the first time you’ve done but it wasn’t the last. It’ll never be the last! No matter how many times you do it to him, no matter what he wears, your hands find his boobies. Soft, velvet skin continuous met the palm of your small hands. After so many tries, you’ve lost count of the successes. Not that it matters though. Mostly.

This time consist of a drive-by. Multiple success in one day. Four in total. Time to make it five.

Your feet carried you swiftly down the main hall. Wolf was lifting himself out of his chair and strolling down the same hall as you. Since the atmosphere of the ship is to his liking, he can freely discard his biomask. In conclusion, you could see his eyes closely watching you. It was like Wolf already knew what was to happen. There was suspicion floating in his eyes.

Careful steps lead towards your known target. Each one counted down. Wolf tried to keep a wide berth but he can’t escaped you. Not when he’s trained to be a hunter like him.

“Boobies!” you shouted and grasped his free pec lightning fast. One squish and you were racing down the hall away from him, towards the cockpit. Sometimes he’ll give chase after you. Other’s – like this time – he’ll stop, turn to face your direction, and quirk a brow. Nothing will be said in exchange. He’ll just watch you, trying to hide the minute smile on his alien face. But you’ve spotted it, twice. He likes this game you rope him into playing. Different, fun, and seeing you smile, that’s what matters to him greatly.

.

This incident consisted of the two of you back on Yautja Prime. Though, considered dangerous for you, a ooman. No one dared laid finger on you. Not when you smelled like Wolf or when he was around you. Many barely gave you a glance before giving you the space Wolf silently demanded. All the males, of course did this. The females, they were different. Thankfully, not many of them were out today in the shopping district of Wolf’s hometown.

While in the public’s eye, Wolf wasn’t the most friendly. As one of the most deadly hunter’s out there, he had to keep up his image.  With that in mind, Wolf couldn’t be touchy-touchy with you. No holding hands, not even a hand on your shoulder. That didn’t stop you from being extremely close with Wolf. Like any hunter, he knew the dangers of his own planet. You were kept in front of him at all times.

Wolf corralled you towards a vendor he was needing to visit. It was easy to keep you contained. Once the two of you arrived, Wolf began to speak to the other alien. You were expected to stay between Wolf and the table. The safest place to be. And that’s where you stayed, mostly peacefully.

The vendor’s table didn’t have much that interested yourself, computer components by the looks of it. You looked at what they had before quickly losing interest. Instead, you turned around to face Wolf. He had his biomask on, a way to hide his emotions better. But you could read his body language plainly.

Standing in front of him, about to his midriff, you couldn’t contain your smirk. It was your precursor to your actions. Your hand grabbed at his pec once again and squeezed. The Yautja didn’t even move or flex the muscle. You huffed and fake fell towards him. Now, your face buried between his glorious boobs. Mmm, best place to be!

Now, your Yautja stiffened slightly, spine tensing but he did nothing more than that. You happily stayed there. Wolf didn’t do anything with his hands. He let them hang at his sides, though his fingers did twitch. Not that you saw or even felt them move.

After the two of you were done at the vendor, Wolf stepped back. You weren’t expecting this and stumbled since your weight was pressed into him. He placed a hand on your shoulder for one moment to catch you. Then it fell away back to Wolf’s side. He turned around and started walking away. This sort of thing wasn’t unnatural out in public. You don’t take any offense to his actions out here. That didn’t stop you from teasing him. All with a smirk on your face.

He stalked away like a predator, like the hunter he is. You were quick to scramble after him, a pep in your step.

.

Two perfectly shaped breasts just sitting there. All of this has been going on for weeks. And it won’t stop. You couldn’t help but snicker quietly as you walked alongside Wolf in the ship. Dinner had been prepared. He had come to get you so the two of you could eat.

As the pair of you made their way into the kitchen, you spun on your heel and stopped in front of Wolf. He paused as well, head tilted down to look at your smaller frame. A brow was quirked up. Recognition flashed in his eyes. Yet, Wolf didn’t move. You giggled. Immediately, you placed a hand on his exposed pec and squeezed. You leaned in and stood on your tippy-toes. This was Wolf though, he stood far too tall for you to press a kiss to his mandible.

The wall met your back, a hand cushioned the back of your skull. Then, that limb pinned your hip. The other hand was firmly wrapped around your neck, promptly pinning you to the wall as well. You gasped harshly and stared up at Wolf in shock. Nevertheless, your fingers still grasping his chest.

Wolf leaned down, warm breath fanning over your face. Dark tresses creating a half circle curtain around us. His three mandibles twitching, dark eyes scanning over your features before locking onto your eyes. The upper fang caressed your cheek bone. “Are you going to continue doing that?” he growled. Internally, you knew that didn’t have a single bite in it.

You stretched out your neck to be closer to him. “Yes.”

Dinner was forgotten about.