#Americans change a lot of words

[call-me-copycat]

PSA To My Hero Academia fans on RedNote/ Xiaohongshu!

I've seen a lot of people going to Xiaohongshu! That's great! However I think this is something you should know (;´∀`)･･ｧﾊﾊﾊ･･

My Hero Academia is the only anime that is a major taboo! As a long term MHA fan it saddens me greatly - but it offends the Chinese people so don't post anything My Hero Academia related!

They're very lenient with foreigners fortunately, but there have been cases of death threats and harassment to a couple MHA posters. It's essentially banned/blacklisted (socially at least)

I've seen people asking, but so far it's an MHA only type thing - no other anime (to my knowledge) has this type of resentment.

It's not an"oh this anime is cringy" type hate. It's a deep seated resentment - because of Dr. Garaki.

So for those that don't know, way back in late 2019/early 2020, there was this whole catastrophe regarding Horikoshi-sensei's naming of him. His original name was "Maruta Shiga". Many saw this as an ode to the WWII experimentation on Chinese citizens by the imperialist Japanese army and unit 731, and seeing that he's a doctor who experiments on people (to make Nomu)... This wasn't taken well

The Chinese saw it as him pretty much spitting on their history, and saw it as a mockery of their patriotism. Therefore, My Hero Academia as a whole is extraordinarily offensive on any Chinese platform in general

However this was entirely a mistake on Horikoshi's side. As we all know, he likes to have fun with his names and names his characters by appearance, power, or behavior. "Maruta" was meant to portray the Doctor's roundness (as Horikoshi said, "he's a short, portly man"), but it was also the Japanese word for "log" - which many saw as a reference to Unit 731 (many many trigger warnings for those who look into that. It's horrific). "Shiga" was chosen simply because it was similar to Shigaraki's name. It was an unfortunate combination.

Horikoshi didn't intend for it to be such an insensitive reference and immediately changed the doctor's name to Garaki within a week on all digital copies. He's apologized as well, but still to this day My Hero is a big taboo (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

I'm very sorry to my My Hero Academia friends! But I ask of you to keep it invisible on Chinese platforms like Xiaohongshu - just save it for other places like here, okay?

[spacetrashpile]

so everything i know abt dc (very little) has come from my mutuals' posts (mostly yours) and i wanted to say congrats on your special guy's return!!! but also i had a few questions! kid eternity's previous iterations were all boys right? is this the debut of a new one or has she been around a while? at first i thought they may have made her trans but then i realized how unlikely that was for a long-standing character, even a minor one. what's her backstory? does her canon coincide with any previous versions? (i'm vaguely recalling a post of yours with 4 versions of this character over the years.)

i'm probably never gonna read any of the comics myself but i think she seems really cool and i really like hearing about comic character lore, so if you're up for an infodump i'd love to hear it :D

HI THANK YOU I'M ECSTATIC. YOU'VE ALSO ACTIVATED MY AUTISM TRAP CARD WITH THE TRANS THING. AND ALSO THE OTHER STUFF BUT THE TRANS THING SPECIFICALLY.

So you are correct, all the previous Kid Eternity incarnations have been guys! And yes, there have been a couple versions of him across the years (four or five, depending on who you ask/how we're drawing lines). This is the opener image I made for my "all Kid Eternity appearances" spreadsheet (still a WIP) that I made, and I feel like that helps give a quick reference for him. (It's not full opacity, but unfortunately I no longer have the original file and can't change that.)

So, this new Kid Eternity seems to be an entirely new iteration of the character. One, she's got a new costume (though it's riffing heavily on the 90s/early 2000s version of the character), and two, everyone is pretty sure she's a girl, which is insanely exciting for me specifically. This JSA issue, which came out today, is her first appearance ever, and that page I've posted like twice now is her only appearance in the actual issue, since it happens right at the end. As such, we have no idea what her deal is, or how she lines up with Kid's past appearances. However, that means it's time to speculate wildly!

A quick note about the trans thing- you're right that making any longstanding character trans would be kinda crazy for DC, even a character like Kid who's had less than 100 appearances under DC's ownership, but if it was going to happen to anyone, I could see it happening here. One, Kid is wildly minor. Like I said, less than 100 appearances while under DC's copyright, and when you add in the comics from when he was owned by Quality Comics, he still doesn't cross the 200 appearances line. So while making a character that's existed since the 1940s trans would be kinda crazy, if you're gonna pick any character to do it to, you may as well pick one that everyone forgot existed back in the 90s.

Furthermore, Kid is a character who's played a lot with concepts of gender and sexuality. You'll notice that the two pictures in the middle of the above image feature Kid with long hair (and in the costume closest to the kid we saw in the new JSA), for one, but the second image is a cover from Kid's third solo, which was published under the Vertigo imprint. Vertigo was an imprint that DC started back in the 90s that focused on publishing adult content that wasn't necessarily suitable for DC's primary audience. This means stuff like sex, nudity, drug use, etc. but it also means a lot of queer characters and story lines were published under this imprint. Just to name a few, John Constantine/Hellblazer, the Doom Patrol, and Sandman are pretty famously queer characters/groups, and they were some of Vertigo's big names back in the 90s.

Kid is never explicitly trans in his Vertigo run, and no actual trans characters ever appear to my memory, but they do play with his gender just a bit (particularly, in my opinion, in issue 9, "Hysteria Knows No Gender", but it's not much, just a fun possible read). The comic also deals very heavily with homophobia and hate crimes in some of the last few issues, and don't shy away from the idea of queerness at all. (Genuinely, issues 10-12 of this comic are harrowing reads. Issue 10 deals with violence against women while issues 11 and 12 deal with homophobia and my god are they heavy.)

Also a point that has less to do with Kid and more with the comic itself, but still something worth bringin up- this is happening in JSA (2024), and the JSA has made a couple longstanding and/or much more important characters (in the grand scheme of things) queer in the past! Notably, Todd Rice (obsidian) (first appearance 1983) was revealed to be gay in 2006 and Alan Scott (the first green lantern) (first appearance 1940) was revealed to be gay within like, the last 5 years. Still no trans retcons to my knowledge (though I'm not super up to date on the JSA, so if I may be missing some important stuff), but that's still pretty notable in my opinion.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY that while Kid has never been trans before, this Kid being trans genuinely doesn't feel out of the question to me. I'm not gonna get my hopes up or anything, but hey, wouldn't it be cool???

Anyways, the other questions you asked! Like I said, we ultimately know nothing about this version of Kid Eternity right now, except what she looks like, and that she's in Hell (par for the course for Kid, to be quite honest.) Judging from which comic she features in and what her costume looks like, however, I think I can solidly say that the backstory they'll be drawing on is the 90s era backstory, so I'll give a quick rundown of that!

Kid's initial backstory, from the 1940s, boils down to this: Kid was a child on a sailing ship that ran afoul of a Nazi sub during WW2. Kid and the rest of the crew, including his grandfather, died and went to a place called "Eternity" (legally distinct Heaven). Upon their arrival, however, it was found that Kid had arrived about 60 years before his time. In return for the mistake, he is sent back to earth with new powers and a spiritual guardian from Eternity, Mr. Keeper. These new powers allow him to shout the word "Eternity" and call on any historical, mythological, or fictional characters and summon their ghosts to help him solve problems. The fictional characters fall by the wayside after a certain point because of copy right concerns, I imagine, but I have to bring it up because it's always comical. Shout out to the time he summoned Jean Valjean to talk a thief out of stealing a loaf of bread and when that didn't work he summoned Javert and then Javert and Valjean beat each other up until he sent them back.

The 90s backstory, which is introduced by Grant Morrison in a horror mini series, builds on this backstory with a few retcons. Most notably, Kid never actually went to "Eternity" or any sort of heaven. Instead, he went to hell, where he was picked up by a staple of the DC magical mythos called the Lords of Chaos (which are exactly as bad as they sound), specifically by the one who paraded himself as Mr. Keeper. He was lied to about what happened to him when he died, about what was happening to him upon his arrival in Hell, and was strung along to do the Lords of Chaos' bidding for decades before he was able to free himself in a really complicated series of retcons and dumb writing choices across about 20 comics written and released over about two decades so we won't get into the weeds of that part.

The Lords of Chaos are opposed by a group called the Lords of Order (who could've guessed!) who are very important to the Justice Society, primarily to Dr. Fate, a key member, because Dr. Fate is a Lord of Order possessing/manifesting through a human person (and a helmet). Not only that, but this new Kid has appeared in JSA volume 2. The first JSA came out in 1999, and y'know who appears (and dies but that's less important) in the first issue of that comic: 90s Kid Eternity! It's a part of this whole plot regarding agents of the Lords of Chaos and Order, and since the current plot of this comic has a lot to do with Dr. Fate, I imagine that Kid is being pulled from that original JSA comic to be introduced as a potential foil to the current Dr. Fate (a young man who seems to be close in age to this version of Kid) and/or as another wrinkle in the Everything that's going on.

ALL OF THIS TO SAY! We really don't know much yet, but Kid Eternity is literally one of my nichest favorite characters of all time, and I am beyond ecstatic to see them running around again (fun fact, post New 52 reboot in 2011, Kid has had a whole thirteen appearances, and 6 of those appearances weren't even in the mainline universe. It was dire out here!)

[greenerteacups]

What do you think as Hermione's career would be post battle of Hogwarts? To me her being minister for magic really doesn't make sense. She does not have patience or tact to wade through murky waters of politics 😭😭

So hard to say! The Trio are so, so young when we leave them, I find it almost impossible to project their futures farther than a few years out. The job that suited me at 17 would be radically unsuited to me now. That's why of all the Trio, Ron's ending strikes me as the most realistic — he jumps straight into the save-the-world business again, burns out, realizes he's actually Done The Fuck Enough, Thanks, and pivots into a low-stress career where he gets to see his family a lot. Feels accurate! The others are weirder to me because they do seem to just... pick a lane and stay there.

With Hermione, you could spin her a couple ways. You could say that she leans into her bookish side and does research or teaching, which is not my preference for a couple reasons (namely, I don't think Hermione would like academia as a profession; she finds her classwork interesting and enjoys intellectual validation, but she'd be stifled and wasted in a DPhil program, and she'd be infuriated by the administrative politicking of your average higher-ed faculty). You could say that she gets disaffected with politics and ends up as a barrister or a lobbyist of some kind, but if anything that requires more political finesse, because you don't actually have institutional power, you're just handling the people who make decisions and trying to persuade them of your goals. This is not Hermione's preferred method of influence. She's not even particularly good at persuasion, she just happens to be smart enough (and right often enough) that people take her ideas seriously.

Or you could say her brashness fades with the years into a softened flavor of tell-you-like-it-is honesty, which some politicians actually do successfully trade on; as we see in British politics today, you don't have to be all that charming or clever to get ahead, you just need to be really driven and well-connected (which Hermione completely is; she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the first postwar Minister and her bestie, the Literal Messiah, runs the Auror Office.) But I don't know if Hermione especially wants to be Minister, after the war. She's just watched years of horrendous bureaucratic incompetence plunge the country into a violent civil conflict. She's had not one, but two Ministers of Magic try to bully or shame her friends into complicity with fascism. Her view of government is... likely extremely dark.

But Hermione also isn't the kind of person who sees her life as a quest for happiness. Babygirl has a savior complex that makes Harry look selfish. (She basically kills her parents — yeah, obliviating is a form of murder, #changemymind — "for their own good," and justifies every batshit, vindictive, mean-spirited move she ever pulls on the grounds that it "helps" one of her friends.) She is a mean, lean, dragon-slaying machine, and she needs a dragon. After Voldemort, the Ministry is the no. 1 threat to muggle-borns and non-wizarding Beings. As a war heroine with basically infinite political capital, I'd be surprised if she didn't try to do something there. That said, Hermione is so vivacious and dynamic that she could potentially grow in a hundred different directions; it's possible that all of this, while true of her at 18, becomes completely inaccurate by 22. That's why I'm not too fussed about any particular fanon interpretation.

[theblueststatic]

dear dani snot,

thank you for IRREVOCABLY FUCKING UP MY VOCABULARY because the way i pronounce irrevocably is like "ear-rev-OCK-ably" and neither of the pronunciations in the dictionary are that

see here:

i linked it in case anyone wants to shame me

[beneaththebloodylake]

not to endlessly whinge about the same thing. but what is it even with those minor translation choices? i remember 'bum wrap rhiny' specifically pissed me off cause what on earth does it fucking mean?? and i dont remember the other one. cause theyre actually both very clearly named after miscarriages of justice: fabrication of evidence and false charges (捏造くん、えん罪くん). and no, you cant just bloody replace those with random words and have it make sense? this is even worse than replacing the police masoct being specifically about arresting people but 'cutely' and making it just sound like vaugely policy if you squint

[theshmaylor]

To celebrate rawdog winning word of the year per the American Dialect Society, I'd like to tell the story of how I learned that the meaning of rawdog changed in the past couple years.

If anyone doesn't know, the original and long-held meaning of rawdogging was fucking without a condom. The new meaning has extended to doing any kind of action unshielded, plain, or without preparation.

So, about a year ago, I'm eating lunch with coworkers. It's an office job and we're generally pretty professional. People swear a lot, but there's never any innuendos or sex talk.

A coworker is describing a recent trip she took to a vendor to get a demo of equipment we were considering purchasing. Someone else asks "Did you meet Bob LastName while you were there? He's kind of an interesting guy."

"Yeah I did, and he is a little strange. I walked into the breakroom one morning and he was rawdogging two blueberry bagels"

Cue my high-pitched shriek of "He was DOING WHAT."

Followed by my coworkers explaining the meaning and my faint, flustered reply of "ah...well... I'm used to that meaning.... something else." Some people knew what I was talking about, but unfortunately others did not, and I had to face the ordeal of explaining as delicately as possible to a group of coworkers aged 22 to 60

[ujuro]

Saw a hit tweet being like ‘the fact that everyone knew that Kim soohyun and Kim saeron were dating but didn’t say anything shows just how horrible Koreans are’ and like okay this situation is particularly disturbing so I’ll forgive some generalizations but you chose to tweet about the one particular aspect of this scenario that is 100% not unique to Korea 💀

[beemovieerotica]

struggling with how to word this, but putting it out there anyway:

i can fully understand the posts on here from a lot of americans being tired of "vote blue no matter who" posts when the #1 thing that people are constantly (and sometimes only?) addressing is how the republican party is going treat trans/queer people if elected.

it's part of an unfortunate pattern of prioritizing the effects on a demographic that includes white + upper class people, when people of color and those in the global south are actively and currently being killed or relegated to circumstances in which their survival is very unlikely

it is genuinely exhausting to witness this, and i was also on the fence about even participating in voting because i a) felt like it didn't matter and b) every time i voiced being frustrated with the current state of the country, white queer people would immediately step in with "but what about trans people!" -> (i am mixed race trans man)

and i say this with unending patience toward people who do this, because i know that it's not something they actively think about. but everyone already knows how the republican party is going to treat queer people. you are probably talking to another queer person when you bring up project 2025. the issue is that, for those of us who aren't white, or for those of us who are but who are conscious of ongoing struggles for people of color worldwide, the safety of people around the world feels more urgent than our own. that is the calculation that's being made.

you're not going to win votes for the democratic party by dismissing or minimizing these realities and by continually centering (white) queer people.

very few people on here and twitter are actually talking about issues beyond queer rights that concern people of color, or how the two administrations differ on these issues instead of constantly circling back to single-issue politics. this isn't an exhaustive list. but these are the issues that have actually altered my perspective and motivated me to the point of committing to casting a vote

the biden administration has been engaged in a years-long fight to allow new applicants to DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, the program that allows undocumented individuals who arrived as children to remain in the country) after the Trump administration attempted to terminate it. the program is in limbo currently because of the actions of Trump-backed judges, with those who applied before the ruling being allowed to stay, but no new applications are being processed. Trump has repeatedly toyed with the idea of just deporting the 1.8 million people, but he continues to change his mind depending on whatever the fuck goes on in his head. he cannot be relied on to be sympathetic toward people of hispanic descent or to guarantee that DREAMers will be allowed stay in the country. biden + a democratic controlled congress will allow legal challenges to the DACA moratorium to gain ground.

the biden administration is open to returning and protecting portions of culturally important indigenous land in a way that the trump administration absolutely does not give a fuck. as of may 2024, they have established seven national monuments with plans to expand the San Gabriel Monument where the Gabrielino, Kizh / Tongva, the Chumash, Kitanemuk, Serrano, and Tataviam reside. the Berryessa Snow Mountain is also on the list, as a sacred region to the Patwin.

i'm recognizing that the US's plans for clean energy have often come into conflict with tribal sovereignty, and the biden administration could absolutely do better in navigating this. but the unfortunate dichotomy is that there would be zero commitment or investment in clean energy under a trump-led government, which poses an astounding existential threat and destabilizing force to the global south beyond any human-to-human conflict. climate change has caused and will continue to cause resource shortages, greater natural disasters, and near-lethal living conditions for those in the tropics - and the actions of the highest energy consumers (US) are to blame. biden has funneled billions of dollars into climate change mitigation and clean energy generation - trump does not believe that any of it matters.

i may circle back to this and add more as it comes up, but i'm hoping that those who are skeptical / discouraged / tired of the white queer-centric discourse on tumblr and twitter can at least process some of this. please feel free to add more articles + points but i'm asking for the sake of this post to please focus on issues that affect people of color.

[bmpmp3]

i keep choosing like the hardest songs possible to try to learn to make midis for vocal synth covers on. why do i keep doing this to myself. like is that reverb doubling back creating noise, vocal doubling, or a harmony. if its a harmony i'll explode on impact

[luxlightly]

"Tautonym" was the word I was looking for. It's a word or phrase comprised of the same word used twice, either in the same or different languages, to specify a certain type of that thing. It's usually used to refer to taxonomy in which the latin name of a species and genus is the same (ie: gorilla gorilla or vulpes vulpes) but is also when a specific preparation or type of a certain thing is specified by using the same word in the language of the place where it is prepared in that manner or where the thing is located or when a word consists of two or more identical syllables (ie: bonbon)

"Chai tea" is "tea prepared in the style of the place where the word for "tea" is "chai. "Sahara Desert" is the desert in the area in which the word for desert is "Sahara", etc etc.

It's a very fun thing about language!

"Saying 'chai tea' is silly! You wouldn't say 'tea tea'!"

Except that yes we absolutely would and do, frequently, use words that mean the same thing to specify a specific variety of that thing. It doesn't even have to be two different words. A "fancy party' and a "fancy fancy party" are two different things. This is a common thing in English and, so far as I'm aware, many other languages as well.

(I believe there is a specific term for this ligual quirk but I do not remember it and can't find the big post I saw one time explaining it.)

[alvfr]

Urban dictionary is wrong, the person who said the chapter cooked meant it was good!!

Oh that is good to know

Thank you! 🙏

[kylopen]

In My Head

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sunshine reader is always seen as sweet and innocent to the team, always happy to use her healing magic wherever possible. Bucky, touch starved and in love, discovers reader is not as innocent as she seems.

Word count: 8.2k words <3

Plus size reader safe! All body types are safe in this fic! Everyone loves Dom! Bucky I do too but good god I need whipped Bucky who will do anything for Reader. This is the longest piece I’ve written in so long! Enjoy and leave a note<3 I’m in my marvel era again so feel free to request anyone! I didn't proof read (i finished it at 1am)

Tags: There is a plot! (porn with plot lol) AFAB reader, The smut is pure FILTH tbh, Smut, Pining Bucky, no use of Y/N.

Smut warnings: Sub!Bucky, soft dom! Reader, use of ‘Good boy’, Bucky has a praise kink, pussy eating (lots of it), Needy/touch starved Bucky, Bucky has an Edward Cullen moment, Oral (female/reader receiving— THREE times hehe) penetration, Buck likes his hair pulled, Bucky dry humps, Reader squirts (third oral sequence so skip that part if you wish) needy creampie.

There were things in the modern world that baffled Bucky, Bubble tea, new terms for prejudice ending in 'phobia', babies with Ipads in their faces. And you. The first time he laid eyes on you, you gave him a blindingly sweet smile, and held your hand out for him to shake. When he didn't take it you didn't judge him or look at him funny, you smiled like you understood. From then on, you respected his boundaries and he began to feel safe. It made sense to him that someone like you had the power to help and heal others.

You’d always bring them things; vitamins, water, those weird orange flavoured things that dissolve in water, something a little sugary for a boost, with that sweet, innocent smile he'd grown to adore. He would never- could never admit that though, someone like him wasn't worthy of you. He could settle for some longing and pining instead.

Bucky is lounging on the sofa with Steve, some 50s flick playing that Steve had insisted on, something about a painter in Paris- he wasn't sure. And then, you walk in, your sweet voice drifting into his ear.

“An American in Paris, huh?” you asked, gently teasing as you moved closer to the sofa, catching sight of the movie they were watching.

Bucky shifted a little, his gaze flickering to you, then quickly back to the TV. He tried not to look at you too much when you were around, not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, it felt like something in his chest tightened. It certainly didn’t help that it was a hot day today, you’d opted for a cute pink and white sundress that stopped mid thigh.

“Yeah, Steve’s choice,” Bucky muttered, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little softer than he intended. He knew that you liked these kinds of old movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Steve grinned from the other end of the couch, catching the subtle shift in Bucky’s tone, but not saying anything about it. Instead, he glanced up at you with a friendly smile.

“You a fan of the classics too?” Steve asked, gesturing for you to sit if you wanted to join them.

You walked over, the scent of your shampoo reaching Bucky’s senses. Vanilla and coconut, coincidentally his favourite fragrance, something that had changed not long after he’d met you… coincidentally of course, and the more you lingered around, the harder it became for him to focus on anything but you.

“Reminds me of my dad. Some are super sexist but I’m a sucker for Marilyn Monroe” you said, sitting down at the edge of the couch, right next to Bucky. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, but still with enough space to respect his boundaries. You always seemed to know exactly how to balance that, without even trying. It amazed him.

Bucky felt his pulse quicken as you sat beside him. You were so close. Too close. Not close enough.

He grunted in agreement with your statement, nodding, though his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you—he just didn’t know how. What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem awkward or broken? Besides, talking might make him reveal just how badly he wanted to be near you, and he couldn’t afford that.

But then you spoke again, your voice soft and gentle, like you were speaking just to him. “How was training today?”

He cleared his throat, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind. “Same as always. Steve still hits like a truck.”

Steve laughed from the other side, “You’re the one with the metal arm, Buck.”

Bucky shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. Just a distraction. He was grateful for it.

You laughed too, and that sound—it was like a melody that settled right under Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He stole a glance at you again, just for a second, and you were looking right at him. That smile on your face, the one that had been seared into his memory from the moment you’d met.

“Let me guess,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you didn’t let him win this time either?”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he stopped himself. “Nope.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice soft again, almost as if you were relieved. “Can’t let Cap off easy.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Bucky harder than he’d expected. You cared. Not just in the way you handed out snacks and drinks after training or smiled when they passed by, but genuinely cared. For him. For Steve. And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be willing to see something more in him than he saw in himself.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. Bucky could feel it. He wanted to reach out, say something—anything—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, like they always did when it came to you.

For a moment, Bucky let himself wonder what it would be like—if he could let himself believe he was worthy of you. Of someone so full of light and warmth, when all he felt was the shadows of his past.

But then the doubt crept back in, and he looked away again. He couldn’t let himself get too close. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without giving too much away.

You didn’t push him, though. You never did. You just smiled again and settled into the couch beside him, watching the movie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for a fleeting moment, Bucky let himself pretend that it was.

The training room echoes with the sharp sound of fists hitting metal, the rhythmic thud of boots against the mat, and the occasional grunt of exertion. Bucky and Steve were sparring again; the same routine they'd run through countless times. It usually helped Bucky clear his mind, focus his energy on something physical, something he could control. But today, it was different.

“Come on, Buck, focus,” Steve says as he circles around, hands up and ready. His movements were fluid, precise. He was always like that—disciplined, unshakable. Bucky was too, usually. But not today.

His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had been on the couch last night, the way your voice had softened when you’d spoken to him, like you saw something in him that no one else did. That smile. It was haunting him in the best way.

As if to taunt him farther, his mind flashes with the image of you in your sundress, the way it swayed around the soft skin of your thighs.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut through his reverie, but not fast enough.

Distracted, Bucky moves just a second too late. He swings wide, and Steve, quicker than ever, ducked under his arm and swept his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could react, he hit the mat hard, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Damn it,” Bucky growles, more at himself than at Steve. He stays on the floor for a moment, trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He shouldn’t be getting distracted like this. Not during a sparring session. Not ever.

Steve stands over him, offering a hand, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, accepting the hand and letting Steve pull him back to his feet. His ribs ache from the fall, but it wasn’t anything serious. It was more the embarrassment that stung. Bucky didn’t like feeling off his game, and lately, thinking about you was doing just that.

“You weren’t focused,” Steve says, stepping back into position. It wasn’t a question.

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking out his arms as if that could somehow reset his mind. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

Steve hesitates for a second, then nods, getting back into stance. He could tell something was on Bucky’s mind, but he wasn’t going to push. At least, not right now. Steve knew when to back off, and when to press—though Bucky had a feeling that conversation would come soon enough.

They start again, trading punches and dodges, but Bucky couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. The way you made him feel—safe, seen. The way you’d praise him. God… the way you’d tell him he did a good job after training or a mission,

Just for a second, his mind drifts again— Your pretty eyes, the way they’d look at him like he was something amazing, the smile you’d give him and then he wonders what your face would look like as he dives down deep between your thighs-

Steve’s fist came in fast, and though Bucky manages to block it, he doesn’t account for the follow-up. Steve's knee connects with his side, hitting just below his ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Bucky staggers back, holding his side with a grimace.

“Whoa, Buck!” Steve stops immediately, hands out in concern. “You good?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, nodding, though his side throbbed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not fine,” Steve replies, taking a step forward, but Bucky waves him off, frustrated with himself more than anything.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky snaps, turning away for a moment to catch his breath. He hates this. Hates how easily you get into his head, how much he let himself think about you when he was supposed to be focused. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially not in a fight.

Steve gives him a long, knowing look. He wasn’t pushing the subject yet, but Bucky could see it in his eyes—Steve had noticed something. And knowing Steve, it wouldn’t be long before he asked about it.

Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “You need to go get that checked out.” He motions to the cut on Bucky’s cheek and his ribs.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.

Steve doesn’t budge. “Buck, if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’s going to get worse. You’re already bruised, and that cut—” He gestured to Bucky’s face. “—needs to be looked at.”

Bucky was about to argue again when Steve adds, with a pointed look, “Go see her.”

He blinks, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “What?”

“Go see her,” Steve repeats, his voice calm but insistent. “You know she can patch you up. She always does.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You always did take care of them after training, offering vitamin drinks or snacks, your touch gentle and your presence calming.

“I don’t need—” Bucky begins, but Steve cuts him off with a significant look.

“Buck, you’re hurt. Let her help you. Besides, we both know she’d want to,” Steve says, his tone softening as he rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She cares, man. And you’re not doing yourself any favours by pretending you don’t need her.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something else he couldn’t quite name. The truth was, he did want to go to you.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky nods, finally relenting. “Fine.”

Steve smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll finish up here.”

Bucky hesitates for a second before turning to leave the training room, his side still aching from the hit.

All he knew was that when he saw you, when you smiled at him with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, it was going to make it that much harder to keep pretending he didn’t feel anything.

Bucky’s footsteps echo softly through the hall as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he reaches the infirmary door, he gives a soft knock before stepping inside.

You’re there, sitting at your desk with one thigh crossed elegantly over the other, your attention focused on some paperwork in front of you. You’re dressed in your usual professional attire—a fitted dress that hugs your form just enough to hint at your curves beneath your white lab coat. The subtle click of your black heels against the floor when you shift is a small, but noticeable, sound that makes Bucky's heart beat a little faster.

You look up when you hear him enter, that sweet, welcoming smile appearing almost instantly. “Bucky,” you greet warmly, your voice soft. “What brings you in? Did you and Steve go a little too hard today?”

For a second, Bucky just stands there, distracted by how you look. His heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you. He notices, maybe for the first time, how the hem of your dress rides up slightly when you cross your legs. He forces himself to look away before you catch him staring.

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely to the cut on his face. “Just a cut… and maybe some bruised ribs.”

You arch an eyebrow, your smile turning a little coy. “Only maybe bruised ribs? Sounds like you need me to take a closer look.”

Bucky blinks, heat creeping up his neck as he tries to decide whether he’s imagining the playful tone in your voice or if it’s actually there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… probably.”

With that, you uncross your legs and stand up, heels clicking softly against the tile floor as you walk over to him. Your movements are graceful, confident, and Bucky feels his pulse quicken as you draw closer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself today—calm, collected, but with an air of subtle suggestion that makes him feel off balance.

You stand just inches away from him, reaching up to gently tilt his chin up so you can inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Your fingers are cool against his sweaty skin, and Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

“It’s not deep,” you murmur “But it’s a little more than a scratch. Seems like you need my magic touch~” you wiggle your fingers and Bucky bites back a groan at the subtle implication.

Before Bucky can respond, you place your hand gently over the wound, and he feels a soft, warm tingling sensation spread across his skin. Your healing powers are subtle but effective, and within seconds, the pain is gone, the cut already closing up beneath your touch. He’s experienced your abilities before, but every time he feels a spark from your touch, it’s a simple move but he craves more.

“There we go,” you say softly, removing your hand from his face. Your fingers linger a little longer than usual, trailing down his jaw ever so slightly before you step back, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment.

Bucky swallows hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. He’s probably imagining it—just reading too much into things. You’re always sweet, always kind and innocent.

Your gaze drops to his side, and you gently brush your hand over his ribs. “Lift your shirt for me?” you ask, your voice light but carrying a tone of suggestion that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat.

He hesitates for a second, then does as you ask, pulling up his shirt to reveal the dark bruise spreading along his ribs. You make a soft sound of sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your pretty eyes lock with his for a moment. You look back down, your fingers grazing his skin as you crouch slightly to get a closer look.

“You really got hit hard,” you murmur, your tone carrying a note of concern but it switches up subtly as you carry on: “Good thing I can take care of you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. Did he hear that right? Is there something more in your words? You were just talking about the injury right? The way you said it, the way you moved—it feels almost sinful in a way he’s not used to, at least not from you. He tries to keep his focus, but with you this close, your fingers trailing lightly over his bruised skin, it’s damn near impossible.

You place your hand gently over his ribs, your touch soft but firm as you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on healing the injury. Bucky feels the familiar warmth of your powers again, spreading through his body like a gentle wave. The pain begins to melt away, the bruise slowly fading beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All better.”

But your hand doesn’t move right away. Instead, it lingers on his ribs for a second too long, your fingertips brushing the edge of his abdomen in a way that makes his breath catch. Then, just as he’s about to say something—anything—you pull away, turning to your desk, palms flat and bending as if you’re looking for something. Bucky’s mind flashes to pulling up your dress and fucking you senseless then and there, his metal hand clenches and he shakes the thought away.

Bucky exhales slowly, trying to calm the sudden storm in his chest. He has to be imagining it, right? You’re just being your usual caring self- but that touch felt different. Everything you’re doing feels different. More intentional. And the way you’d looked at him just now—

He notices you didn’t actually pick anything up from the desk after you’d bent over it a little.

“Alright, just one last check,” you say as you come back to stand in front of him, a small, almost playful smile on your lips. “Let me make sure everything else is fine.” You reach up, your hand lightly brushing against his neck as if you’re checking for tension or soreness. But then, your fingers linger—soft and warm against his skin, trailing slowly down to his collarbone. The touch is innocent enough, but there’s something in the way you do it that makes Bucky’s entire body tense.

You meet his eyes, your expression still sweet and professional, but there’s a hint of something more—something almost teasing in the way you hold his gaze. “Hmm, seems like you’re all healed up,” you murmur, your voice soft but suggestive in a way that makes his pulse race.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he stares at you. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t speak—stuck between the need to figure out if what he’s feeling is real or just in his head. He tries to convince himself it’s all innocent, but the way your hand lingers on his neck, the way your eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest of moments… it leaves him wondering if you aren’t quite as innocent as he thought.

You finally step back, that same sweet smile on your face as if nothing happened. “Take it easy, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard next time.”

Bucky nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Yeah… thanks.”

You tilt your head, your smile widening just a little. “Anytime.” You sit down on your chair again, crossing one thigh over the other, it seemed deliberate.

You rest a pencil on your lower lip, teeth grazing it just slightly, pretty eyes on him. Bucky draws in a breath and feels a problem growing between his legs. He spins around to the door, hoping you don’t notice.

As Bucky begins leave you call out once more: “Let me know if you need me Bucky~ you can always come to me”

As Bucky leaves the infirmary, his mind spins. He came in with injuries, but now he has a different kind of problem, he attempts to calm down, the hardness in his pants making it hard to think. Something has shifted between you two, and whether it’s real or just in his imagination, Bucky can’t help but think back to it all. Did you want him too?

That night, Bucky stares at his ceiling, mind flashing back to you at your desk. Why didn’t you pick anything up? Did you forget what you were looking for? The look in your eyes told him you must’ve known what was going through his head.

He groans and pushes his face into his pillow, he thinks back to something that had happened a few days ago. You were giving out some sort of vitamin pill to everyone, when you’d leaned in, lips near his ear as you whispered:

“I saved you the last cherry flavoured one, don’t tell anyone” before winking slightly.

He shivers at the memory; he could smell every inch of you when you leaned in.

He grunts and pushes his face farther into the pillow. Why did you always save the good things for him? Was it on purpose? Whenever you baked you’d give him first pick- he thought you were just being nice, the sweet girl they all know. But the more he thinks about you the more he notices those little things.

Before he had even registered what he was doing, he was standing and making his way to your rooms. You did say he could always come to you. Bucky freezes outside the door when he realises where he was and what he was doing. Was he crazy? How could he come up with an excuse for being at your door at eleven at night? Before he can change his mind and turn around your door opens. There you stood wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top- with no bra.

Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locks on you. The soft glow of your bedside lamp spills over your frame, highlighting the way your sleep shorts hug your hips and your tank top clings to your chest. His mouth goes dry.

You blink at him. “Bucky?” your voice is soft, a hint of curiosity laced in your tone. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were stood outside my door.

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He knows he should say something, anything, but his mind is scrambling for an excuse—an explanation for why he’s standing at your door in the middle of the night. His thoughts drift back to your touch earlier, the brush of your hand on his neck, and the memory of your lips near his ear just days ago.

You tilt your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Bucky swears there’s something teasing in your expression. You step aside, opening the door wider as if you’re inviting him in. “You didn’t have to knock, you know,” you say with that same sweetness. “You can always come to me.”

His heart pounds in his chest, loud enough that he wonders if you can hear it. He swallows, trying to push down the tension, but something in your eyes—something about the way you're looking at him—has his feet moving before his brain catches up.

He steps over the threshold.

Bucky steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room is dim, and the soft scent of your perfume lingers in the air, teasing his senses. He watches you as you turn back toward him, your smile still warm, still innocent—at least on the surface.

“So…” you say, your voice soft as you walk a little closer to him, “What brings you here so late, Bucky?” There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone, like you already know the answer but want to hear him say it.

He shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting away from yours. “I… uh, I couldn’t sleep.” His voice comes out rougher than he intended.

“We both know my healing powers can’t help you sleep Bucky. So what’s up with you coming to see lil’. ol’. Me.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His mind is racing—unsure if you're playing a game or if he’s just reading too much into it. His eyes flick down to your tank top, the way it clings to you, the coolness from the hallway had made hard peaks appear on your chest he then glances back to your face. You’re watching him carefully, that same playful glint in your eyes.

You tilt your head slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Your fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver through him. “About me?”

Bucky feels his pulse quicken. He’s certain now—there’s no way he’s imagining it.

“I—” He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. But before he can, you step even closer, your body inches from his now, your hand lingering on his arm.

“You think I didn’t notice?” You ask sweetly

Bucky’s breath hitches as your words sink in, and his chest tightens, the space between you suddenly feeling far too small. His mind is racing, but his body is rooted in place, drawn to you in a way he can’t explain. He tries to speak, to form some kind of coherent response, but his voice fails him.

“You think I didn’t notice?” you ask again, your voice low, sweet, but with a teasing edge that makes Bucky’s heart race. Your hand is still resting lightly on his arm, your touch burning through his skin despite the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of your body is so close now, and Bucky is overwhelmed by the scent of you—intoxicating, pulling him deeper into the moment. He can feel himself grow hard at the simple touch, he want’s your hands all over him. He just needs to feel you touch him.

He stares down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your lips curve into that soft, knowing smile. You tilt your head up slightly, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, standing impossibly close, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears every word. “I notice where your eyes go when I wear a skirt or dress, if I bend over or wear anything even remotely low cut.”

He swallows hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wants to say something, to explain himself, to apologize, but he can’t—because the truth is, you’re right. He has been looking at you, watching you, craving your presence without ever fully admitting it to himself.

You shift even closer, your chest almost brushing against his, and Bucky’s breath catches as your fingers slowly trail up his arm, lingering at his shoulder. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep control of himself. The way you’re looking at him, your lips parted slightly, your eyes holding his like they’re daring him to make the next move…

He’s losing it.

“You don’t have to hide it,” you whisper, your voice laced with that same soft, teasing edge. Your hand moves up to his neck now, your fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You can tell me what you want, Bucky…”

He whines.

Before the embarrassment can hit him you let out a low groan at the sound. “Fuck…”

Bucky’s breath comes out in a shudder, his self-control hanging by a thread. He feels the warmth of your hand against his neck, the way your touch lingers just a second too long, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through him.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, closing the last bit of space between you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Bucky’s resolve crumbles. He can’t hold back anymore.

His hand reaches out almost instinctively, fingers gently curling around your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches from your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You…” His voice is low, strained, as if he’s barely holding on. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

You smile, and the look in your eyes—soft, teasing, and just a little wicked—sends him over the edge.

Bucky leans to close the gap but your finger presses against his lips. A frown forms on his face, and then you speak.

“ah ah ah” you shake your head “we ask for what we want”

Bucky mentally scolds himself for not asking, he was in the moment.

“May I kiss you?” he asks.

“Say please” there was an unexpected dominance to your tone, completely wiping out the innocence.

Oh fuck.

Bucky feels himself grow harder at the tone. He’s momentarily stunned. Your pretty eyes are on him, feigning innocence but there’s something sinful hiding in them. His beautiful blue eyes look down at you, filled with need.

“Please?”

You let out a moan at the word, your body heating up, your core dampens your shorts.

“Fuck… Bucky…” You say breathily before you pull him down a little to reach your height and kiss him. It’s gentle, as though you’re teasing him, giving him a glimpse to what he can have. He just needs to ask politely.

“Doll… please… I…” He struggles to get his words out, brain fogged over from all the sensations hitting him at once. You run your hands along his abs and he whines again. The whine shoots straight through you. Bucky Barnes, the worlds most accomplished assassin is whining for you.

“Please what? Good boys use their words.” You say in a sinfully soft voice that sends a shiver down his spine.

“I need… more… please” He whispers your name at the end and you hum, satisfied. You grasp his hand and it feels so good to him. Too good. He follows you as you pull him towards the bed.

“Sit there. Lean against the headboard” you hum and he immediately does as he’s told. Sure, he was a super solider who could overpower you in a second, you were both aware. But you were both also aware that he didn’t want that. He needed you to guide him.

You plant yourself in his lap, straddling him, before letting out a soft hum as you feel his hardness push against your core over your sleep shorts. Bucky lets out a moan at the contact but you’re quick to swallow it with a deep, heated kiss. His hands claw at your hips and you gasp slightly as the metal of his hand touches your skin. He’s quick to pull it away but you’re quicker, gripping his wrist and shaking your head, guiding it back in place.

You continue the kiss, before taking his lower lip in between your teeth. You open your eyes to see his blue ones are locked onto your own in what can only be described as the hottest, neediest way, his pupils dilated. You lick over his lip before your hand snakes around the back of his neck and up to his hair. You gently tug, its light, testing the waters and his lips part, head nodding. You pull his hair back a little harsher and he moans. You laugh, the sound dark and sinful in Bucky’s ears.

Your lips kiss his earlobe. “You like your hair pulled? Dirty boy~”

He moans again and nods, hands gripping your hips a little harder, pulling you down to grind on him. You make a ‘tsk’ sound and he freezes, quickly remembering your rule.

You get off him and he groans at the loss of contact, his needy eyes falling onto you. You slowly pull down your shorts, revealing your core to him. His breathing quickens, cock twitching and straining against his sweatpants.

“Take your clothes off, honey” your sultry voice fills his ears and he does so immediately, stripping off his shirt first, exposing the honey toned abs with numerous scars here and there. He is beautiful and you let it show on your face. He drags down his sweatpants leaving him in his grey boxers. There’s a dark damp spot on them from his arousal, pre-cum weeping through from the tip. You make a gesture for him to keep going and he obliges, dragging the boxers down. He stands there, glorious cock hard against his abdomen, looking at you, waiting for your next command.

“What do you want? You just need to ask” You inquire, goading him to tell you.

He swallows, looking down at your dripping core and then back to his cock. You fully expect him to ask to fuck you based on his expression, but he shocks you.

“Can I taste you please?”

Your eyes widen briefly, stunned at his choice.

“I’m sorry— if you don’t want—“ He begins to speak but you cut him off with a finger to your lips and standing up. You slowly peel off your shorts, leaning against the wall.

“You asked me so nicely.” You beckon him and the speed in which he’s on his knees in front of you has your legs weak. His hands skim over your thighs, leaving Goosebumps in their wake. “Is this what you want?”

Bucky looks up at you with desperate eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yes, please” His voice is hoarse.

“You wanna make me feel good?” You coo.

Bucky groans, his hands gripping your thighs a little. “More than anything” He confirms.

You nod, giving your permission and he settles in between your thighs. He grasps your ass, pulling you up so your legs are over his shoulders, his head cradled by your thighs. You’re momentarily stunned, briefly forgetting he’s a super soldier with insane strength. The thought goes right to your core. Your back is against the wall, his hands still firm on your ass, keeping you in place. Bucky’s breath ghosts across your core before he looks up at you. The sight was nearly enough to make you come. With a firm squeeze on your ass, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips, making you gasp and weave your fingers through his hair. He groans and begins to lap at your clit like a man starved. He occasionally moans and groans, letting you know how much he’s enjoying being between your legs.

“Bucky— oh my god” You moan out. This only drives him more, he focuses his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you see stars.

He is good at this.

Really fucking good.

Too good?

It doesn’t take you long to come at all, you grasp his hair tighter, thighs squeezing around his head in a way that makes his cock twitch against his abdomen. He rides you through your orgasm until you’re squirming and too sensitive.

He pulls back, holding you up still, and looks into your eyes. The lower part of his face is sinfully wet, he gives you a charming smile, eyes still betraying his neediness.

“You did so well… so good for me…” You breathe out and a strangled noise escapes him.

A praise kink.

“You did so so good for me Bucky~ You deserve a reward” You coo, getting off his shoulders and standing up. You tilt his head up with your finger. “You want a reward baby?”

Bucky lets out a breathy noise and nods.

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want”

Bucky Looks up at you, standing up. He shocked you again.

“Please doll… sit on my face… if… you want…” He adds the last part, unsure. All he knows is that being in between your thighs, hearing you, feeling you, giving you pleasure is all he wants right now.

You bite back a groan and nod, watching him scramble to the bed, laying on his back. He’s gloriously naked, thick cock incredibly hard and standing to attention. You crawl up his body, making sure to brush up against his length to hear those delicious whines from him. His hips buck a few times against you and then you’re settled just above his face. You look down at him and he looks ravenous— His desperate eyes flicking from your core to your face. His hands keep flexing as he struggles, wanting nothing more than to pull you down onto his face and hold you there until he can’t breathe.

“You can touch me Buck” you say softly and his hands hesitantly settle on your hips. He pauses before it eventually becomes too much and pulls you down onto his face, groaning at the impact. You don’t move much, assuming he wants to take the lead when he speaks, muffled against your core.

You giggle and look at him innocently. “Sorry honey what was that? I can’t understand you~”

His eyes grow even more needy, looking up at you. He speaks, muffled again before he decided to lift you up just enough to speak.

“Move— please. Grind on my face. Use me to come please”

How could you say no to such a beautiful request?

You settle back down and rock your hips. His tongue moves with the same finesse and you can’t help but wonder if he’s tired. He doesn’t look tired. You move his arms so he’s holding them up and you entwine your fingers, using his arms to keep you upright, moving against him. His eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure and you groan. You make quick work of your shirt, leaving you both naked now.

“Eyes open Bucky~ I thought you wanted to see what you do to me?~” You tease.

His eyes shoot open again, pupils dilated, his eyes more black than blue now.

“Good~ So good to me” You breathe out and he moans against you, making you gasp and your hips stutter. You grip his hands tighter. His pretty eyes are begging you to come and you do, thighs once again squeezing around his head, making him feel dizzy. Your hips are bucking against his face not even thinking about his breathing— but that isn’t on Bucky’s mind either. You ride out your orgasm and get off him, falling on your back, breathing erratic.

Bucky lays there with the lower half of his face wet, stubble and all. His breathing is erratic and his cock is painfully hard against his abdomen.

“Holy shit Bucky” You huff out and a hoarse moan leaves his mouth.

He slots himself between your legs, kissing your shoulder, slowly moving down your body until he’s at your hip, kissing it softly.

“You are so beautiful doll” His eyes are sincere and your cheeks feel hot at the compliment. “One more time? Please?” He asks, eyes pleading.

Sweet mother of Jesus.

“You want— you seriously— you want to eat me out again?” Your eyes are wide.

Bucky nods, nuzzling and kissing your thigh before focusing on your face again. “And to fuck you with my fingers if that’s alright with you doll?”

Sweet. Mother. Of. Jesus.

Your brain short circuits for a moment at the words leaving his mouth and you mindlessly nod, your gaze heated and intense.

He runs a finger along your dripping core and he moans. Was he really getting this much pleasure? You hadn’t even touched him at all. He teases your entrance before sinking a finger in softly. He hisses at how tight it is, his cock twitching. You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling, instinctively reaching for his hair. Bucky peppers kisses on your thighs before he begins pumping his finger.

It’s not enough.

“More” You demand, gripping his hair. Bucky is happy to oblige, pushing a second finger in, your toes curling. “oh god yes”

Bucky begins to curl his fingers, brushing up against your sweet spot as he increases his pace a fraction and you cry out.

“Am I doing good?” His husky voice asks, desperate for praise.

“So good baby, so fucking good. You’re so good to me” You moan out and he snaps, thrusting his fingers into you with a little more force and latching his mouth onto your clit. You’re so sensitive at this point you let out a whine, your words not coherent. You didn’t even know it was possible to come this many times before being fucked. The coil in your stomach feels more intense than you have ever felt before, you tighten around his fingers and before you could warn him, he pulls away, watching the liquid squirt from you in awe. You, on the other hand are glassy eyed and trembling afterwards.

Bucky gives you a few minutes to settle before he brings himself back up to your face, you pull him in for a messy kiss. His cock is settled on your thigh, Bucky whines into the kiss and you can feel him jutting against it. You grasp his chin as he kisses you, feeling his length as he desperately claims whatever friction he can get.

Bucky is surprised at himself. There has never been a time in his life where he has felt the need to dry hump a woman. But you have the best ways of bringing new feelings and actions out of him.

“Please” He says softly.

“Oh you’re so worked up honey. After doing such a good job. Take what you want Bucky” you coo, stroking his cheek and he leans into it before settling his hips between your legs.

“Can I… are you okay if I…” He begins and you nod.

“You’ve more than earned it” You rake your hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

In an attempt to ground himself, He places his hands on your headboard, letting you guide his cock into place. He pushes in and groans, immediately shattering the headboard where his hands were.

Oh lord.

You squeeze around him and let out a breathy, aroused giggle. Bucky on the other hand looks mortified.

“Oh my god doll I am so sorry—“ He goes to pull out of you but you grasp his arms and shake your head. He doesn’t take much convincing before he pushes into you fully. He’s panting and rests his forehead on yours. Even with the fingers stretching you earlier, you need to adjust. The super solider cock is no joke.

You moan encouragingly in his ear and he pulls back softly before pushing back in. Your eyes flutter and Bucky has his trained solely on you and your reactions.

“Am I hurting you, doll?” He asks, breathily, stopping his motions.

You shake your head immediately. “Please don’t stop”

He keeps his strength in check, bracing on the half broken headboard again, his hands slotting into the Bucky sized hand holes in them. He uses a leisurely pace that does hit the spot, but it’s not quite enough. You could tell he was holding back for your sake but you needed to see just how much he needed you.

“Harder Bucky~ Fuck. I can take it— please”

The headboard crushes even more at your words, your legs were wound around his hips, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck as he desperately thrusts into you. It’s hard and fast, a string of moans and curses leaving your mouth as you can’t move in his grip, all you can do is take it. You’re seeing stars now, as Bucky is whining and muttering praises in your ear.

“You feel so good doll”

“I would do this forever… beautiful beautiful girl”

And lastly:

“Oh god thank you” He repeats the phrase a few times and your head spins.

He’s fucking thanking you.

You manage to moan out a few praises that are punctuated by his sharp needy thrusts. He pulls his face away from his neck when he’s close. You can see it on his face, begging you to come first. He slips his metal hand down to your clit, stroking the already sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes widen at the coolness against it.

“Please come” He moans and it doesn’t take you long to oblige his plea, the metal hand on your clit, the whines from Bucky and his cock hitting you deep pushes you over the edge and you come, clenching him hard.

“You’re so beautiful” He says in awe. “Please can I come— please doll” Bucky’s thrusts are faltering.

“fill me up Bucky~” You moan and that’s all it takes, his thrusts become harder, your body jolting from the force, you’ll feel this in your hips in the morning. You could always heal it away. But you probably won’t. You place a hand over his neck holding it loosely, your other hand raking through his hair.

Bucky thrusts into you hard and deep, with hoarse moans of thank you as he comes inside you, filling you up. He simply stays inside you after, his body moving with his deep ragged breaths before he collapses on top of you, making sure to use some strength to stop him crushing you. You stroke his hair, muttering soft praises.

He rolls off you, his honey toned skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made him look godly. Your legs are jelly; you aren’t even sure you can use them for the next few days. Bucky stands and walks to your bathroom, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted ass and returns a few moments later with a warm wet cloth to clean you up with.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Bucky begins to wipe away the crushed pieces of headboard from your bed sheepishly.

“Sorry doll” He says quietly.

“It’s okay” You assure. “It was hot. Made me feel like Bella Swan” You joke.

Bucky looks at you, not understanding the reference.

“From Twi… never mind” You hum, helping to brush off the little pieces of wood. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms.

“Doll… I… I have never felt like that before. What did you do to me? I am under a spell when it comes to you.”

You yawn and let out a sleepy laugh. “You’re telling me. I don’t think I could sleep with a regular dude again after that”

It’s not long until exhaustion rushes through you. Super solider stamina is no joke. You drift off, head on his chest. Bucky watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, your soft snores filling the room.

And for the first time in what feels like forever; Bucky has a deep, dreamless sleep. His nightmares paused as he slumbers beside your soft, warm body.

It’s late when Bucky wakes up. Your side of the bed is cold. He glances at the clock on his phone, reading 11:07am, and a text from you, timestamped two hours ago:

‘Morning sleepy head. I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked too comfortable ;)’

He smiles at the text and looks for his clothes, only to find you must have taken a trip to his room to grab some fresh clothes. There is a towel on a chair with a new set of clean clothes and a pair of boxers.

When he’s all cleaned up and dressed he makes his way to the kitchen. You’re talking to Wanda, Steve and Sam.

“Bucky good morning!” Your sweet voice drifts over to him. “You slept in late. Are you feeling okay? Late night?” It’s an innocent question, no one bats an eyelash at it. You’re the healer of the team, and you’re concerned. But Bucky bites back a groan at the implications they both know is behind the sweet words.

Before Bucky can respond, Tony walks in.

“Hey Hippocrates” Tony calls out to you. “Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me you needed a new headboard for your bed?

Oops.

-END-

[celestial-kestrel]

It's that time of year again where Mari Lwyd starts to be talked about and shared around and an INCREDIBLY misleading post gets shared a lot. As someone who grew up with Mari Lwyd I wanted to clear some things up.

Also hello, if you are unaware who Mari Lwyd is. This is about the Welsh tradition of the horse skull who visits houses during the Christmas to New Years period in Wales asking for alcohol.

First off and probably the most important one:

Mari Lwyd is not a cryptid!

I can not emphasise this enough. She. Is. Not. A. Cryptid. There is no story or mystery about a ghost or zombie horse roaming the Welsh valleys. She's not even supposed to be a ghost or a zombie. It's just a horse skull on a stick with a guy under a sheet. She's a hobbyhorse and a folk character used to tell Welsh stories and keep songs alive. When people spread the misinformation that she's a cryptid, it's the equivalent of saying Kermit the Frog is a cryptid.

She is actually only one character in a wider cast of characters who go door to door or, in more modern times, pub to pub. The cast of characters can change town to town and village to village but there are some common ones I see time and time again. The Leader, the Merryman, The Jester and The Lady are just some I see regularly. Punch and Judy used to be more popular a few years ago but I haven't seen them in a while as their tradition has mostly fallen out of popularity. In most cases, almost the whole cast will be played by men. Even the characters are considered and referred to as female. Though this again depends and varies by which group is partaking in the Mari Lwyd tradition.

This point also goes onto my second point,

Mari Lwyd does not rap.

I think this comes from a very common misunderstanding of what rap is vs spoken word. Rap is a very specific style of music originating from the African American communities of the USA and has it's own structure and motifs unique to it. It's a lot more complex than people give it credit for as a style of music and just flippantly assign anything similar to it as being rap. If someone is talking fast or reciting poetry, it is not rap. Or anything that is an exchange of words between two people is not a rap battle. Mari Lwyd does not do rap, actually something that gets left out of these posts is the fact Mari Lwyd does not even speak. It's actually the Leader, who does all the speaking and song based banter between the house/pub owner for entry. Mari Lwyd just clicks her mouth, bites people and bobs her head around.

I think Mari Lwyd is a really beautiful and unique part of Welsh culture. She's not actually as wildly celebrated as a lot of the posts make her out to be. Actually, I think most Welsh people themselves learn about Mari Lwyd through the internet as well. Her popularity is increasing thanks to the drive of local groups wanting to keep the traditions alive and a renewed desire to document Welsh traditions before they're gone. Which is why it's such a shame that she's turned into something she's not to earn horror points on the internet. I think this is why it bothers me so much to see the misunderstandings of the culture and the folk tradition. Mari Lwyd's origin is very hot debated as well as how long it's been going on for. But I think it's thanks to a lot of traditions like this that the Welsh language and our stories weren't lost forever. Welsh culture is recovering as is the language. But it's still in a very fragile place. I think it's why it's important to document and correct information when it's spread.

Anyway, if you want to see the tradition in action, here's a lovely video from the Cwmafan RFC going to one of the pubs for charity. It includes the song exchange with the pub owner for entry and the whole pub singing and joining in once Mari Lwyd and the rest are inside.

As well with another video from St Fagan's showcasing the more traditional and door to door form with the larger cast.

[still-not-a-cat]

“why do you spell and act british despite being raised in america”

bad parenting. next question.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

women in male fields

fratboy!jaehyun x reader

summary: you’re fully aware you’re dating a reformed fuckboy/fratiest fratboy to exist but that doesn’t mean he can get away with acting like a douche without a taste of his own medicine… OR the 3 times sweetheart finds herself acting like a fuckboy and the 1 time Jaehyun calls her out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol, Americanized college described (l'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart, sweet girl) in order to avoid using y/n, Imk if I missed anything!

a/n: there was something completely magical in my Chili’s triple dipper because I sat down and pounded this out for 4 hours with minimal breaks! I’d had this idea for a while but figured I’d get it out before everyone forgot about the #womeninmalefields TikTok trend. Feedback is appreciated!

Timeline-wise let’s say this is about 6 months into Jae and Sweetheart being a couple

This story is a part of my fratboy!Jaehyun universe!

dividers from cafekitsune

You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Jung Jaehyun, one of the most fratboy fratboys to ever exist. You had been around for the parties, for the handful of nights where he overdid it and got sick, countless nights of standing by to watch him play beer pong, no dates on Sunday evenings because of frat meetings, and a couple philanthropic events. You were used to a lot of it by now. 

But your boyfriend had adapted himself so well to this role that you honestly kind of hated some of his behaviors. He had changed some habits, of course. He was no longer the fuckboy fratboy that slept around, no, he was committed to you and you alone. He made some effort into being romantic which took some work since his idea of romance was sending you a daily Snapchat for your streak with a red heart. Gross. Now, he got you flowers occasionally and your favorite snacks. His room used to be an absolute pigsty and now he at the very least he shoved his mess under the bed so you didn’t see.

Then there were some habits that didn’t change and you were tired of them. Beyond tired of them. You were tired of him passively listening, barely paying attention to you, being kind of an asshole, and just being a gross guy. So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he could do all these things and you could still like him, why wouldn't he still like you?

It had started when you texted Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon and he didn’t respond until Saturday afternoon. It had been nothing urgent, but you were still annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, it was a horrible habit of his. He started a conversation or read a text you sent and just never responded. You knew now, based on experience and the other guys telling you, that Jaehyun sucked at texting. He would still post on Instagram or Snapchat, posting various athletes like they were his friends and promoting frat activities like normal. It was almost like he forgot that the primary function of a phone was to communicate. Good thing he was pretty!

It didn’t make it any less annoying that your boyfriend didn't care to change this habit for you though, so when he finally texted you back, you decided to give him the same treatment. Saturday came to an end and you didn’t text back. Sunday was the same and so was Monday. He texted you countless times, so many questions, random updates on his day, and asking you if you were ok or if he should send help to your dorm. So when you knocked on the door Tuesday afternoon scrolling on your phone when Jaehyun opened the door. It was pretty safe to say he was pretty confused.

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Jaehyun asked while he led the two of you upstairs.

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes not leaving the screen of your phone, “oh yeah, my phone broke. My bad.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue, ready to tell you that he had seen you posting on your stories, your phone didn’t look new, and he had heard you on FaceTime with Haechan just yesterday. That you were literally scrolling through Instagram when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his arms, and pulled up the most recent episode of one of your shows. 

He couldn’t really complain if you were here with him now, right? You were in his bed, in his arms, laying on his chest. Everything was fine. A few days of no contact was normal and you both had a good enough relationship where it shouldn’t bother him, right? But it did…

The next time Jaehyun pissed you off was just a week later. He had proven to be a little extra clingy after his punishment of silence and that was good enough for you. It had been enough to hold you off with some of his, less than perfect behavior, until the next time he messed up. Sure, enough it was just 7 days later when he acted stupid again. And it was time for him to learn again. Sometimes he just had to learn to not do something by doing it and learning the consequences. Like a child… or a pet.

Jaehyun had had a stressful week. You knew that, he had told you about it the last time you saw him just yesterday, so you did feel kinda bad for deciding to pull this out of your sleeve now. How was he going to learn if you never tried to fix it though?

Jaehyun was pacing around his room, running a hand down his face and staring at the email that basically told him nothing from their partner sorority. He was social chair, so he was in charge of planning mixers. That’s exactly what he was trying to do! But the Kappa social chair was either knowingly being a pain in the ass or just naturally was a pain in the ass. How was it useful for Jaehyun to know when a handful of sisters all had an astronomy class?! Why did that matter when he was asking her to choose from a handful of dates he’d already chosen?!

Not only was this sorority social chair being annoying, Taeyong had been on his ass to plan some kind of sponsored philanthropic event, but everyone Nu Chi had worked with previously was being so difficult! No one was returning a single one of his emails, he spent his afternoons on hold or making calls, and just getting in contact with new companies and vendors just took so much effort. He currently had one sponsor, which was fine, whatever. But nothing Nu Chi Theta did while Jaehyun was social chair was ever just fine. Fine was acceptable for Alpha Sig’s but not for Nu Chi’s. He would need at least two more sponsors to reach the level of finery he was used to working with.

So that’s what Jaehyun was texting you about, his fingers tapping across the small screen of his phone while he put all his ranting and raving into words and sent off the text with a sigh of relief. You would talk him down, get him through his stress, and give him some advice for his problems. Then he’d feel like a new man, ready to tackle his problems with a clear head just like you always did for him. Just the thought of your advice had him smiling down at his phone while he added ‘sorry, about that. had to vent. how was your day sweets?’ and sent it your way.

On your end, you read through the long text ready to reply and give him some advice and offer your own help, but then you remembered… You remembered how just a few days ago you were venting to him about a small argument you and Ari, your roommate, had gotten into, and he showed no signs of actually listening. You went to him for a reason! He had at least 10 roommates, he never had complaints about any of them, so it wasn’t like you were talking just to talk! You wanted your boyfriend to give you some advice like you always gave him, but all you got was a “damn... Wanna order me some wings?” You had to physically keep jaw from dropping. God, he could be such a fucking guy sometimes! It was like talking to a fucking wall! Albeit a very good looking, handsome wall, but a wall nonetheless.

It was time for him to get yet another taste of his own medicine. Instead of taking the time to offer your advice or offer your help, you smirked, staring at your screen as you typed out, ‘that sucks’. Next text, ‘My day was chill, kinda hungry … send me door dash?’

On his end, Jaehyun stared at the screen with blatant confusion, watching as the minutes ticked by while he waited for some long paragraph with solutions and encouragement to be sent his way. After five minutes nothing came. The same after 10. No change after 20 and then he sets his phone aside feeling grumpy and pissy. Why wasn’t his girlfriend helping him? Did you even read his message?

And he couldn’t exactly call you out on it because it wasn’t an issue between the both of you. They were problems he had before you guys were together sure, but he liked having you to lean on now. He sighed tiredly, resting his chin atop his folded arms with a pout while staring at his dark screen and willing you to text him back again so all his issues would be just one step closer to being fixed.

His heart skipped a beat when the screen lit up and he saw the familiar combination of emojis used for your contact. He reached for his phone eagerly, feeling his heart soar at the anticipated text where you would help him solve his issues. But his face fell into a frown and he groaned out loudly at the words on his screen: ‘is my food on its way yet?’

The last reciprocation of his fuckboy energy was probably the worst. You honestly don’t know how you let Jaehyun get away with it practically unscathed, but karma was coming around now and she wasn’t merciful. It was your pièce de résistance, the cherry on top of your fuckboy sundae, your magnum opus, your masterpiece. 

To give Jaehyun some credit, it had been a while since he had dated a woman for a long period of time, or really, dated any woman at all. Maybe he had forgotten some very basic decorum and manners as far as ways to act and things to say or not say. Just yesterday you had been complaining about your professor being very vague in the instructions for your assignment, and even more vague when you emailed him to ask for clarity. “Like the instructions make it sound so simple, but it can’t be that simple if this project accounts for 30% of our grade! Like hello, is it hard to reply to an email with words that actually fucking mean something?” You groaned, running your fingers through your hair while you texted your project group chat what your professor had replied.

Jaehyun chuckled, running a calming hand down your back, focusing his relaxing touch on your lower back as his fingers kneaded at your muscles, “chill out sweetheart, I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

You sent him an unamused look from the corner of your eye, “chill out? Jae, I just said this project accounts for a third of my grade. I can’t be chill about this.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, “are you… you know?”

Your fingers froze over your keyboard, waiting for his next words, giving him a chance to backtrack. He stayed silent and waited patiently. You exhaled, speaking in a voice that was all too eerily calm, “Am I what, Jaehyun?”

“Are you on your period? You just seem extra worked up about something kind of pointless.” He replied casually, his fingers continuing to work at your lower back. The exact area you had once confessed hurt you so bad you could barely stand in the first couple days of your period. This- somewhat thoughtful- little shit!

You smacked his hands away while you closed your laptop and gathered your things in a hurry, mumbling, “you’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Jaehyun stared at you in shock, an asshole? He was being an asshole for caring about his girlfriend’s well-being? “Sweetheart, it’s just that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is,” he tried to explain.

You held a hand up, silencing him, ”every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself into a deeper hole. No, I’m not on my period. Yes, it is a big deal and yes, I’m actually leaving. Good night and goodbye.”

This very conversation had been playing on repeat in your mind while Jaehyun vented to you about Johnny being up his ass about new recruits being low as he paced around his room. “I mean, it shouldn’t be solely on my shoulders if recruits are low. There are plenty of brothers who don’t have as many responsibilities as I do. Like, I barely figured out the whole sponsored mess with Taeyong and now Johnny decided to stick his foot up my ass too. Can I get a fucking break or something?!” He ranted passionately.

You stared at him blankly from your seated position on his bed, forcing your smirk to stay hidden. “Is it… you know?” You began to ask.

“Is it stressful? Hell yeah it is, I mean shouldn't we have any and all brothers taking turns trying to recruit. I mean that’s why I take my time to throw mixers, parties, and sponsored events that kick ass so that people want to join,” Jaehyun replied with a tired sigh.

“No,” you laughed softly, “is it like your time of the month? You seem to be making a big deal out of nothing?”

When Jaehyun turned to you with his eyes wide in astonishment, he expected to see you laughing it off playfully. He expected for you to confess that you were just kidding and kiss him sweetly. But you cocked your head to the side and raised a brow as if to ask, ‘what’s the problem?’

After that, Jaehyun was quick to rise to his feet, pinning you with a heated stare. “What the hell has been up with you? You've been acting… grimy for like the last month.”

You laughed in astonishment, “I’ve been acting grimy? Huh, then imagine how I feel on a regular basis!”

“You?! Sweets, you’ve been acting like a douche! Like when you didn’t respond to me for days even though you were posting like normal and you lied about your phone being broken! Like, hello! You were on Instagram right in front of my face with the same crack on your screen since I’ve known you!”

You raised a brow, holding back an amused smirk, “that’s all? I don’t reply for a couple days and now I’m a douche? Babe, you’re being like really emotional right now, calm down.”

“And that too!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “why are you asking me if it’s my time of the month when I’m talking about something that’s bothering me? I want you to support me. You did the same thing when I texted you looking for advice when I was handling the whole mixers and sponsors thing.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “well, I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

Jaehyun raised his brows and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what the hell he was hearing. Was he in some kind of alternate universe? Had aliens come down and planted worms in your brain? What happened to his sweet girlfriend?! “Well, an apology would be really nice,” he replies while cocking his head at you.

“And have you ever apologized to me for any of that same behavior?” You ask in a calm voice.

“Wha- me apologize?! This isn’t about me! It’s about you!”

“Oh, so it’s only a problem when I act like this and not you? Got it.”

“When?! When have I acted like you?” Jaehyun asks in exasperation, eyes wide with shocked confusion.

“Hmmm. Let me think!” You exclaim before dramatically placing the tip of your finger on your chin, “just like everyday we’ve been together, you dummy!”

“Give me examples. I can’t believe this.”

“Alright, how about how I’ve had to train you like some kind of pet to learn some very basic texting etiquette? I let you get away with being a shitty texter for months and the one time I do it, you go crazy. I got used to not getting a response from you after days on end and I act like you did one time and you almost call campus security to my dorm to see if I’m alive,” you state, counting out a single finger. 

With the next finger, “I come to you for advice regarding my single roommate considering you have like a hundred of them, and what do you do? You say, damn, buy me wings? Who the fuck does that?! So it didn’t feel very good when I did it to you, huh? Did you like looking for advice only to be hit with some bullshit response and then asked for food? Which I never got by the way!”

Third finger, “And just now. Oh no, did you not like being told your issue meant nothing? Awww, mmmm, are you sad?” You pull your face into a very sarcastic sad face, “now imagine how I feel when you asked me if I was on my fucking period?! Like, have you never been around someone with a vagina? Even Mark and Haechan who barely pull know better than to ask some shit like that! And these are just three of your douchebag behaviors! Shall I continue, Mr. so called I’m-perfect-and-can-never-make-mistakes-because-that-would-be-impossible!”

Jaehyun stood speechless. Was he really that bad? Well, clearly he was. He had to admit he didn’t think he was this bad. He had been really good about adapting to his new role as a boyfriend and thought everything else that came his way was just going to be easy to handle. Apparently, he hadn’t handled it all the right way.

“I didn’t realize I was this bad, I’m sorry. Wow,” Jaehyun sighed, sitting on the bed with his folded over his mouth, “sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”

But that was another way Jaehyun had adapted. He didn’t start arguments while being hard headed, he listened when the issue was serious, he accepted wrong doing, and made changes. 

You crawled across his bed, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been petty. I should have told you these things bothered me in the moment instead of using them against you… but it was kinda fun.”

Jaehyun rested his head atop yours and chuckled softly, “I think I’m really glad you’re not one of the frat guys because we’d always have girls in here yelling about you gaslighting them. How did you handle me doing this for so long?”

“It helps that you listen when it matters. You’re sweet, you can be romantic, you care about me, you make an effort for me, I can tell you’re trying to be better for me even if it doesn’t all come easily for me,” you explain in a calm voice, “and you’re hot as hell, the abs don’t stop, and you keep that body nice and tight for mama, don't you baby boy?”

Your cackle rings out across his room while he jumps away from you with flushed cheeks. “Don’t… don’t talk like that. It’s totally freaking me out!”

“Come on, babe,” you tease while deepening your voice playfully, “bring me that ass.” 

You manage to grab him while he tries, and fails, to jump away. You playfully knead his (lack of) ass while grinning up at him. You pucker your lips, to which Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes before kissing you sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re a girl because you would be an absolute terror as a guy,” he states while shaking his head and cupping your cheeks.

“I think I should rush, baby,” you respond playfully, “you could be my big, dude! Come on, bro!”

“Enough of this!” Jaehyun jokingly hisses, “I want my sweet girl back.”

“Fine,” you drawl out with pout, “let this be your lesson though, Jae. When you go low, I can go lower. And I will go lower.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned. I’ll be better at texting, I’ll be an active listener, I’ll give you advice when you need it, and I’ll never ask you if you’re on your period again,” Jaehyun nods.

“See, you’re such a great learner. Let’s go get you a treat, baby,” you smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I don’t know how I feel about you talking to me like I’m a dog…”

You smile at him, “you like it.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “do I?”

You hum, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer, “yup, you have a praise kink.”

Well, if you say so…

[valentinedrifter]

Days with Sakura: Routine

male reader x Miyawaki Sakura

~8.6k words

A/N: Thanks to @msafterhours for reviewing the first section, much appreciated! I did not spend most of my time looking at Smash Bros combos.

Enjoy!

“Yo!” 

You slam her down to the ground so hard the impact makes her go up into the air before you give her a kick to the back and she’s falling, reeling from the hits, desperately trying to steady herself because she knows that this is spiraling into something she can’t control, something that can make her lose.

And she absolutely despises losing.

But you don’t let her. Not when this is a chance at triumph. At claiming the crown that was rightfully yours. At winning.

So you jump, diving down, chasing her into the abyss to send a dropkick that connects to her stomach, the air in her lungs forcefully exhaled as she flies into the air once more, body out cold, acceptance on her face as she’s been beaten.

But you won’t leave it at that. You wanted, no, needed to be sure that you’ve won this fight because you’re petty like that, wanting to humiliate her, to set the tone for your next duel.

That’s why when you throw this insane left hook that hits her right in the face, absolutely rocking her shit, you feel the pressure in your chest gone, replaced by this intense joy that gets you to close your eyes and smile in bliss as one word rings out.

“Game!”

—

“And that,” You’re giving finger-guns in her direction. “Is a win for me.”

Sakura’s shaking her head, placing down her controller and giving you an exaggerated set of claps. “Good for you, just need to beat me-” She’s glancing down at your makeshift scoreboard, composed of chips stacked up on two plates. “-two more times to even it out.”

Ever since Chaewon re-debuted in Le Sserafim and introduced you to Sakura, who immediately found out that you also played video games on an unhealthy level– Probably a lot more than her–this has been the norm between you two, every Saturday, five on the dot, always in your apartment. 

It was awkward at first, when she sent a text saying that she’ll be coming over to, and you quote: ”Beat your ass in this new fighting game.” That awkwardness became a lot more apparent when she did come over, knocking on your door, letting herself in, console in hand asking where the TV was.

You thought she’d be all talk, so you let her set it all up while you grabbed some drinks and snacks since you might as well be polite, and came back to her handing you a controller and telling you to choose your fighter. 

She then proceeds to pick this weird looking wrestling lion and grab-combos you into the next round, forcing you to forgo any sort of discomfort between the two of you and just focus on winning.

Definitely wasn’t because your ego took a hit, no.

You spend the next few hours beating the shit out of each other with a Bruce Lee wannabe, an American monk, a robot that self-implodes, and a lot more ridiculous characters before you took a break to satiate human needs, like food.

And bulgogi? That’s the bomb.

It was after that where you two started to be more than mere acquaintances that met through a mutual friend, instead becoming trusted gaming buddies who meet up every week to sit back, attempt to relax when playing games with Sakura, and actually relax after.

It’s fun, a good way to de-stress after long weekdays of dance practices and programming, where you can tell her all about your dumbass boss that keeps piling on work mid-sprint, and where she can tell you how pissed she was when she woke up early for a photoshoot that was rescheduled last minute.

You didn’t notice things changing into something more intimate until Chaewon brought it up over a call once.

“So when is Unnie gonna move in?” Chaewon’s voice rings out of your phone as you’re busying yourself with the food you’ll be eating when Sakura inevitably comes by.

“She’s not.” 

“It definitely feels like it.” She’s trying to instigate something with this, you’re pretty sure. “You bought a new closet almost exclusively to store the amount of clothes that she’s stacked up there.”

You stopped mid-swing of the knife, pausing, mind racing to think of an excuse because you don’t exactly have a defense for that one. Not when you bought it because your own closet was getting overrun with her clothes rather than yours.

And you didn’t even stop to think about whether you should or shouldn’t have bought that in the first place.

“So, is she moving in?”

“No, Chaewon.” Even you can hear the bullshit coming from your mouth. “She’s not.”

And when Sakura left to head back to her dorm that day was the day you finally stopped to notice all the things she’s left at your apartment, from the second closet full of her clothes, to the toothbrush and makeup that she leaves on your bathroom counter, and in the way she acts like she’s at home whenever she visits you.

It forced you to rethink all the times she’s slept over when your sessions drag on late in the night, when she takes up residency in your guest room or straight up snoozes on your couch, leaving you alone with the task of cleaning up the mess you made together.

It feels oddly domestic when she sleeps in while you make breakfast in the morning, giving her the leftovers as takeout when she has to leave and you’re left waiting till the next weekend.

The thought of having that be a daily occurrence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, you just didn’t know what it meant for you and her now that you started to realize everythin-

“Hey!” Sakura’s smirking, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Last one got you tired already?”

“Not a chance.” You hit back, trying to hide the fact that you were thinking of her by hitting the ‘Choose Character’ option on the screen. “Still gotta even out the score.”

And she’s rolling her eyes as she laughs. “You seriously think you can catch up?”

“I think,” You’re confident, so sure of yourself, the high from last round’s win coming back in full force. “I can beat you-” A finger pointed. “-three times in a row.”

“Yeah?” She’s leaning in, so close you can feel her breath on your face. “Is that a bet?” The innocence in her smile didn’t feel real, and when she sees you hesitate, she bites her lip in a way that causes alarm bells to go off in your head, and that’s when you start to crumble.

“Yeah.” You’re stuttering, your composure gone, wrecked, left fumbling, so you decide to stare back at the screen to choose your fighter and avoid looking anywhere near her. “Set the rules Kkura.”

“Alright.” She’s pulling back, giggling, like she’s been waiting for this moment for so, so long. “Loser has to do anything the winner wants for the night.”

You freeze. Your head turns, Sakura’s eyes on you, full of mischief, those lips grinning, and you don’t know what the hell she’s saying-

“What?” Your mouth moves out of reflex, automatic, brain trying to catch up with what she said and she’s laughing again, finally deciding to face the screen to choose her character.

“What?” She repeats with a deeper voice, clearly mocking you, trying to get you riled up, to get you to lose control. “Too much of a pussy, nerd?”

You let out a scoff, forearms resting on your thighs as your chest leans forward and select some angry dude with daddy issues as your fighter. “Oh, it’s on now.”

You’re so focused on the game that you didn’t even notice that Sakura was giving you a look that spells trouble.

—

The match started off normal enough.

She hits you with a combo, you hit back with your own, you two trade lives till you each have one left; It feels like any regular fighting match you two have, always down to the last punch, the last block, the last mistake either one of you make before you start up another round.

And this time, you made that mistake by not blocking her grab, allowing her to set up her set of moves on your fighter. She’s jabbing, kicking, your health bar getting lower and you’re already mentally preparing to do what she wants until she drops the combo.

Wait. What?

You sneak a glance at Sakura, who’s still facing the TV, looking like she wasn’t bothered by what she did. But you know her, all those months of playing different games and you’ve never once seen her drop any sort of combo without a reaction.

Yet here she is, a poker face replacing her usual bright reaction, hands still on her controller, fingers unmoving. And she’s just waiting. Just staring at the game, waiting for you to make the next move.

Your eyes look forward, you hear shuffling from your side except you’re too focused on your character, already mashing hits, your want to win overriding anything else and before you know it you hear the words “Game!” ring out of your speakers. And then you finally look back at Sakura to gloat but you can’t make the sound come out of your mouth because holy shit.

She’s a lot more closer to you, shoulders practically touching yours, coat off her body, thrown to the side, and you see her in only a tank top that hugs her chest, showing off a hint of cleavage and the skirt that’s just teasing you with what’s underneath; Your eyes are glued to her chest cause she’s not wearing a fucking bra seeing that there’s only one set of straps on her shoulders-

“Hey, nerd.” Sakura leans her slim frame in the doorway, eyes down on her phone. “Tits or ass?”

Your mouth opens. Then it closes. The cycle repeats. “This sounds like bait.”

She lets out a sigh and waves her phone at you. “The girls are fighting over whether or not tits or ass is better.”

“Uh-huh.” You squint, before going back to typing out an email on why you’re reverting back a piece of code. It’s also a good way to distract yourself from the question. “And why does my opinion matter?”

“We need a tie breaker since Kazuha and Yunjin are adamant on ass being better-” You can definitely see why they’d be on that side. “-and we didn’t want to keep this conversation going any more than it has to, so.” She shrugs and makes these jazz hands at you, making this a lot more funnier than it actually was. “What’s the verdict?”

“Jesus Christ…” You mutter out, pinching the bridge of your nose before swiveling your chair to face her. “Can’t I just say that both are great?”

“No cop-out answers.” Her fingers are ready to type out your answer, eyes showing a glint of anticipation. “Pick.”

“Fine.” An exasperated look. “Tits. Happy?”

“Gimme a reason and I will be.” The sound of her phone’s keyboard ring out of your room.

You groan, regret already settling in as you-“Because the visual overload of tits and a pretty face look nice.” You snap back to your laptop, the embarrassment from saying that to Sakura of all people making your ears burn. The fact that she’s laughing as she leaves stresses you out even more.

You are never going to live this down.

You will your eyes back up, trying to forget the fact that you were looking at her chest, so you focus on her hair that she recently dyed brown held up into a messy ponytail, on the eyeliner that makes her eyes look sharper, on her lips that are curled at the corners-

“Checking me out nerd?” She’s asking like she doesn’t know the effect she has on you, like she didn’t see your eyes roaming her body, like she didn’t see you stalking her like prey.

“No.” And you’re back to stuttering, back to avoiding her gaze like the little bitch that she’ll tell you that you are, trying and failing to center back at the bet you two have by trying to calm yourself and your hard-on down with deep breaths.

“It’s alright.” She shrugs, fingers pressing ‘Restart’ button and it’s loading back up again. “You can look all you want.” Suddenly her mouth’s on your ear, tits just about fucking your arm and she blows. “Maybe you can even touch if you win.”

She’s got your mind in all sorts of fucked that you don’t even realize that the next round’s begun. She’s already started throwing hands on the screen, trashing you all over the arena while you’re here trying to get your head back in the game, literally and figuratively. 

By the time you’ve gotten your bearings back from Sakura existing next to you, she’s taken one of your lives, your character flying back into the arena and hers stopping to look at you. Taunting you, giving you a chance to fight back after you’ve mentally reset yourself.

And fight back you did. Doesn’t mean she’s gonna make it easy for you.

You’re in the middle of flinging her across the screen when you feel her shoulder brush yours, a whiff of her perfume dancing along your nose. It smelt familiar, but you’re too focused on winning to try to recall when you last got a trace of that scent.

When you manage to bump her down to her last life, she puts an elbow up on your shoulder, the sounds of buttons being smashed intensifying, along with it the smell of her perfume. It tasted sweet, fruity, with a hint of leather hiding underneath all of it-

“Which one’s better?” Sakura holds up two bottles, one red in the shape of a woman’s curves, another colored pink shaped like a heel.

“Better for what?” You’re cleaning up your living room, minutes after getting your ass handed to you in a racing game. “You’re going back to your dorm, Saku, not a show at Inkigayo.”

“Cause Kazuha wants to know what would smell better for her date tomorrow.” She hits back, shoving the heel-shaped bottle on your hands. “And you’re the only one I know that collects perfumes like they’re action figures.” 

That wasn’t exactly a lie, with the way you have your perfumes strewn out across one of your bedroom desks, all of them for different occasions. “So try them out, nerd.”

“Alright, alright.” Chuckling, you spray it onto your wrist and pull it close to your nose. “This is girly as fuck.”

“No shit it’s girly as fuck, it’s a women’s perfume.” She’s rolling her eyes, pulling your wrist to smell it herself and immediately pulling away with a look of mild disgust. “Yeah that is girly as fuck.”

You hand her back the perfume and take the red one from her grasp, spraying it on your other wrist and sniffing. “A lot less girly, this one.”

Arms are crossed and eyes are narrowed at you. “Can you shut up about the girly stuff and actually give me a decent answer?”

“In a couple.” Now you’re the one rolling your eyes, alternating wrists to try and see whatever difference the two had because they smelt the same at first glance. Didn’t help that you’re not used to comparing women’s fragrances, since you are a guy and all that.

“Alright.” You grab both bottles and raise them up, the heel-shaped bottle higher. “This one is really girly, like sexy girly.” You give the bottle a little shake. “It’s fresh, a bit too powdery and sweet for my taste but not a deal breaker.” You put the bottle down on the table next to the empty cans of soft drinks you were about to throw out. “Overall, it’s a good option. Screams bold.”

You hold the curvy bottle in both hands, like you’re advertising a product in front of some big shot CEO. “Now this one-” You raise it up higher. “-is a bit similar to that, but a lot more mature, seductive, with the leather at the back of all the fruity-ness it has.”

Now both bottles are right next to each other, staring back at Sakura who’s still waiting for an actual answer. “So if it was me, you can tell Kazuha that-” You clap and point at the heel. “You pick this one if you want to wow the guy.” Then you point at the curvy bottle.

“You pick this one if you want to get fucked.”

“Game!”

Your character’s doing his victory pose, the soundtrack blaring out and the smell of her perfume that you picked out specifically for a date with a happy ending in mind still attacking your nostrils while the weight on your shoulder is heavier now.

You don’t want to look at her direction, not when she’s getting you with these small little things that she knows will drive you wild, so you reach out to the table in front of you in an attempt to cool off because your libido is at an all time high.

It sounded like a solid plan, until you hear your name being whispered out by Sakura–you hear it crystal clear–that causes you to throw the plan out the window because you turn your head and she’s right there.

Sakura’s arms are wrapped around yours, her chin on your shoulder and she’s got this smile that lights up her face, making you forget everything that’s happening between you two because she’s just so…stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous. An absolutely knockout of a woman-

“Another win for you.” Her voice, unusually soft compared to the usual teasing glint that it has, her gaze taking you in, like she was the one checking you out this time. Then it disappears, the grin you always see back in place, and she leans back to laugh.

“Guess I should step it up then.” She’s already moving, maneuvering the game to choose new characters for the both of you while you follow through on grabbing a drink, mind occupied with choosing who you’ll be using next. 

So you take a few sips of your drink, counted to ten, picked a guy with long silver hair, and tried your best to put away the fact that this was becoming less of a bet and more like you’re being made to face the tension that’s slowly been rising over the months that Sakura has been meeting up with you under the guise of ‘gaming sessions’. 

Now she’s forcing you to face it by using what you told her to her advantage, because she’s right next to you, wearing a top that’s on the verge of spilling her tits out because you told her you liked tits more, perfume applied meant to get her fucked because you told her it would, and it is working.

“Ready?” She clicks on the ‘Random’ map.

“For you to lose again?” You snark back. “Anytime.”

She chuckles, eyes twinkling, like she has another trick up her sleeve, and she acts. Propping her feet up onto the other end of the couch, she lays her head down on your lap, right next to your dick that you’ve been desperately trying to calm down.

And you’re spiraling once more, doing anything and everything to not let her know you have a hard-on because of her, from thinking of next week’s work, of how to set up your character’s combos, of when the last time you and Sakura were in this same exact position-

“Do you ever get lonely here?” Her head on your lap, her hair tangled on your hands, moving so gently, so soft, so soothing; It was relaxing, a change of pace from the regular program that you two always had.

It was always the same–she comes over, you two catch up a bit, play the game of the week, and have dinner. Then she’ll either get picked up by her manager or she sleeps over. It’s simple, routine, standard procedure between you and her.

This went on for the first few months that you’ve been hosting her, until she came over one time, earlier than usual. The keys rattle, the door swings, then you see her, shoulders slumped, eyes dim, body diving into yours. 

You feel your shirt get wet, and you start moving on autopilot, holding her, comforting her, settling her down on the couch before she starts breaking down.

And you let her. You let her choke on the air before she breaks the dam that she’s built up, let her be this blubbering mess, let her give out these suffocating sobs. It was ugly, messy, and tissues will definitely be required but you didn’t move, didn’t speak, you were just…there.

You don’t know how long it’s been since she started bawling her eyes out or how long she’s been bottling this up; By the time she’s somewhat calmed down and her crying’s reduced to sniffling she’s moved from holding onto you for dear life to being in your lap, using the sleeve of your sweater as a makeshift tissue.

“Sometimes.” You let out, and you’re surprised at how honest you are with her. It was always light, teasing, fun between you two, never delving into the thoughts that occasionally lingered whenever Sakura would leave every weekend. 

Didn’t want to make it complicated. For her or for you, well, you don’t have an answer for that.

“But I guess that’s why I play video games all the time.” You continue, brushing a hand on her bangs, showing a puffy, red, damp face. “Gives me new imaginary friends every other day.” And now you’re joking, hoping to lighten the mood, to cheer her up, maybe even to keep things uncomplicated between you two.

She lets out this weepy, shy laugh. “You are such a fucking nerd.” She stammers out in between sobs, hiding herself further into your lap. “But you’re my nerd-” She blows air through her nose, gaze staring back up at you. “-so, thanks.” And it’s the first time she’s smiled at you like that.

Lovely. Peaceful. Genuine.

Suddenly complicated didn’t feel like a bad option now.

“You alright?” Sakura’s pulling you back from the memory, back to the present, back to pretending that her head’s not right next to your cock. “Gotta give your A-game if you want to win the bet.” She chimes, shifting to get more comfortable on your lap, like it was made just for her.

Right. The bet.

“Loser has to do anything the winner wants for the night.”

The game begins.

Your fingers were moving on instinct, weeks of playing this character ingrained in your mind as you play the way that you would normally do, space out the attacks, punish whiffs, try not to die while you’re at it. It was safe, calculated, always waiting for the right time and the right place to hit her.

But your mind’s not fully in the game, always rounding back to her. To Miyawaki Sakura. You are trying to keep things simple, friendly between you two. It was kind of an unspoken rule you have for her knowing that she’s an idol, someone leagues above you, someone you cannot and should not get involved with for her sake. 

Maybe even for yours because you didn’t want to make things messy. God knows how weird that would get because someone–her–didn’t feel the same way.

The sounds of the game blast through the speakers; You don’t hear it. She’s up one life to yours, hitting you with intricate combos that would take weeks–months–of practice. She pulls them off flawlessly. 

Fight or Flight responses kick in your brain, one because you’re fighting back, reaching deep in your bag for moves that she hasn’t seen you do yet. Another because of her simply being right next to you.

Because she doesn’t want that anymore, does she? Not when she’s doing all of this. How she’s dressed, how she smells, how every single touch gets your heart to beat just a little faster. She wants to push things further between you, wants to have more than just the weekly meetups and competitions you have with her. 

Realizing that she wants you makes something snap into place. Like it was always there, imprisoned by your own guarded thoughts and feelings. And now it’s out, and it is roaring.

You put her down to her last life, and you play like it’s the last game you’ll ever play. You don’t play it safe, not anymore, not in a very long time in your casual career, going for the ballsy, aggressive plays. You are committing everything in these last moments, and she’s losing momentum, backpedaling, trying to shake you off-

You realize something else. You want her too. Wanted her for a long time. Maybe it was when she first crashed at your couch, or when she started to leave behind her clothes around your apartment. Maybe it was the teasing after the battles of different genres, or the smiles that brighten up the end of the week. You don’t really know when, and you don’t particularly care. 

Now you need to show her.

The game ends.

You relax, hands slacking, controller forgotten on the couch; Sakura’s left your lap, eyes fixed on yours, her own controller falling. Then she moves, standing up, facing you, climbing onto you.

Her hands wrapping around, holding your face, and she settles. “I guess you win.” She’s teasing, falling back to her walls, the sigh–you can tell how forced it is–that she lets out alongside her usual smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes solidifying it. 

She’s unsure of where to go from here so she does the only thing she can do–fall back to her own routine. Teasing, mocking, back to pushing how far she can go with you.

She’s pretending that it’s a normal Saturday for you two, that she hasn’t tried to entice you with what she’s done, hasn’t tried to push the boundaries of this setup you have with her to its limits, that you haven’t noticed what she’s been doing to your heart.

She’s waiting for your reaction, your rejection, you.

And with what everything that’s happened? Everything you thought about her, about you, about where you stand amongst all of it?

Well, you just did what your heart is telling you to do. Make it complicated.

And the kiss that you give Sakura makes the world disappear.

—

The desk rattles. If she was bothered by the pain, she doesn’t tell you. If anything, she’s more focused on touching you. And she’s everywhere, fingertips brushing your neck, nails scratching your skin, her lips against yours; She was intense, so much so that you can get lost in the feeling, the unspoken words pouring themselves into it.

You can smell her shampoo, a sweet smell of strawberries mixing with the fruitiness of her perfume that drives you crazier. Her lips are soft, tasting like cherries, and you can’t help but have more, driving your tongue inside her mouth, connecting to hers, fighting, winning, losing. She’s a fucking treat, and you’re gonna be enjoying her to the fullest.

The sighs and moans that slip through her lips sound angelic, enjoying how you feel, how you taste, and the whine of displeasure that she lets out when you pull away make you smile.

“Why’d you stop?” She’s pulling you to her, lips on your neck, leaving small kisses, tits pressing against your chest that makes you want to take her damn shirt off. “C’mere.” And she gives you these pecks that make you want her even more, the aftertaste of her attacking your lips.

“Wanted to know how far we can go.” You managed to let out, in between the kisses, the touching, the grinding. “Might do something I’d regret.” It’s a facade. She’s sending you off the edge, and you don’t know how long you can hold it in before you take her. Mold her. Make her yours.

She laughs against your lips–shivers run down your spine–and she murmurs out your name. “Somebody forgot about the bet.” She arches back on the desk, tits popping out even more, the desire to ruin her top getting higher and higher. Her eyes gleam against the moonlight, the shadows making that lip bite she sends you utterly sinful.

“Anything you want.”

The hands on her waist move, slow, teasing upwards, your touches a promise to own her. Her breath hitches, dark anticipation bubbling up inside of her, hums and giggles dancing in the air.

They reach her chest, and you feel hard nubs poking through her top; You pinch and she mewls, hips pressing hard against yours, needy, desperate. You don’t linger, moving further up. You grip. Hungry eyes on yours.

And you pull.

Fabric gives way, tearing filling the room alongside her gasping, out of desire, surprise. Pupils dilate, bodies shuddering, and Sakura grins.

“Fuck.” She dips down, clothes in shambles, chest exposed, your hands touching everywhere; Her slim waist, tight abs, perky tits. She pulls you onto one and your mouth waters, suckling, nipping. “Finally got what you wanted, huh?” She’s taunting, voice breathy, back lifting to give you more of her. She wants this just as much as you do. “Better be worth more than my shirt, nerd.”

All the while her hands are moving, unfastening draws, pulling down pants, cupping boxers. You bite a bud, holding back a moan when her hand goes under to cup your length, nails grazing, heat running through your body, while another goes underneath your shirt, eager to discover more of you.

Even now you and her are still competing, still trying to find who’ll win this dance of debauchery. And she’s trying to take control, set the tempo–too bad you had other plans.

You bring a knee up in between her thighs in retaliation, pressing against her clothed heat. A whimper escapes, hips are rolling, begging for more. A hand, enjoying the soft flesh of her chest, squeezing, pinching, goes to the zipper of her skirt, enjoying her soft skin on the way down, sending tingles that make her buck her hips faster on your leg.

“Shit–more–” She’s losing herself in ecstasy, holding onto your arms, digging into your skin, leaving scratch marks as she fucks herself on your knee. You reach the teeth of her skirt, fingers shaky with need, and pull down, pulling your knee away to let it fall. Her hips don’t stop, rocking the air, desperate to have you back. To get her off.

“Look at you-” Fingers find heat, answering her pleas, pressing into the wet spot of her panties, a dark crimson, gasps spilling from her lips, legs trembling in relief from the pressure you’ve given back. “So fucked on this.” You give a little push inside, cloth blocking you, denying her. “Think you’re up for more?”

She nods, frantic, eager. She’s conceding defeat, resistance now a fleeting thought. You take full advantage of it.

You whip her around, bending her over the desk, a hand on the small of her back, ass wiggling because after everything, she’s still so impatient. Still dripping, still aching, still needing your touch.

A sharp crack sounds out, followed by a deep breath. She stills for a moment, shock encapsulating her entire body. It was not something she thought you’d do, yet here you are, ripping shirts, slapping ass, exceeding each and every one of Sakura’s expectations.

The exhale that she lets out is shaky, filled by desire, the drag of her nails on the desk joining it, yet she presses back, obeying the silent demand.

You wander down, hands teasing her curves before you grab a handful of her ass, squeezing, her breath quickening before your palm comes down for a second dose–the other cheek, this time, just to even things out–and she wavers, almost losing herself in the sensation. Then a giggle. Sweet, dangerous, coy, troubling, addictive.

She looks over her shoulder, strands cascading around her face, swollen lips turned upwards, eyes burning with desire, arousal, defiance. She presses back even further, ass against your bulge that’s been in dire need of release.

You don’t fight her, gripping her hips instead. You shift closer, rubbing, heat on heat, raw hunger in the air. Nobody moves. It’s a challenge, waiting for someone to crack first.

She loses, deliberate, hasty, ass circling, her voice permeating the air. “Want it–” Panting follows, desperate, whimpering. “Take it out already–”

Your chest rumbles, lips wetting, thinking about how much more you can draw this out for her. And, well, she did hate losing.

“Say please.” You ask, no, demand it from her. That one word carries so much weight for her, submission, loss, all wrapped in one syllable. She’s already lost–multiple times, in fact–but this is different. This is complete, utter defeat. She pauses, thinking, debating, eyes wide, mouth panting, lips licking. And she makes her choice.

“Please.”

You’re yanking off your underwear, cock throbbing, aching, ramrod straight, fingers hooking into her panties, dragged to the side. You thrust deep in her. Hot, wet, divine. It’s a perfect fit, like she was made for you.

She moans, loud, crumbling, hands clutching the desk, body lurching from how hard you take her. She’s wet as fuck, pussy so snug it doesn’t want to let you go. You have no intention to. A hand takes hold of her ponytail, another of her hip, and you start fucking her into the desk, hard, each thrust echoing with slick, messy slaps.

She’s intoxicating, the way she clenches you with every pull of her hair, back tensing as you pound her on the desk, hearing her moan, gasp, break; You can’t get enough of it.

Each rhythmic slap of skin to skin makes her ass ripple, spurring you on. Your movements get frantic. Her moans get louder, breaking into filthy wails. She’s flawless, even with the torn shirt, the ruined panties, the pleasure that’s tearing her apart. All wrapped in the sinful indulgence that is Sakura. 

Your hold on her hair gets tighter, pulling her head back just enough to hear her cry out. You drive into her, harsher, rougher, faster. Enough to make her arms give out as she collapses on the desk. “Feel so good,” You grunt out, pressing your body flush against hers, pinning her under your weight. “Gonna make you cum, Saku-” Your hand tilts, still holding onto her ponytail, pressing her cheek on the hardwood. 

“Fuck–yes–” She pants, drunk on pleasure, eyes hazily lock onto you as she drips down her thighs, staining her legs, your cock, the floor. She’s a goddamn wreck, so suffocatingly tight, slamming harder into her, desk shuddering with each thrust. 

“More, yes, yes–” She babbles, repeating words, switching languages. “Don’t stop–close–fuck–” Her pussy grips you like a vice, trying to milk you, making you groan, sending you so fucking close to losing it and blowing it all inside her.

It took all your willpower to pull out, a whine ringing out before you plug three fingers in her cunt, pumping furiously. The long, shuddering scream that pierces through the room combines with the view of her arched back and trembling legs, announcing her orgasm. It shatters her, raw, explosive, pussy clamping on your fingers as you keep pushing and pulling inside of her. She looks completely, undeniably beautiful.

Her body slumps, the desk the only thing that keeps her up. You pull out of her, give her another slap on the ass, and she trembles. She’s reaching a hand out, trying to find you, grip your length, give you the same high you gave her.

You shift to the side where her head is resting, poking her cheek with your length. She looks up, eyes glazed, dark, hungry for more, before her mouth parts to have a taste of herself upon you.

She’s sensual with her tongue, dragging everywhere, indulging in the combined flavor of your precum and her cream. Cheeks hollow, gripping you, jerking slowly. She pops off of you, muttering under her breath, tongue sliding along your cock, over, under. She’s still murmuring when she ends up on your tip, giving it a smooch.

“Louder.” Another demand. She’s still blowing you when she speaks, except you can’t understand what the fuck she’s saying because she defaulted to talking Japanese.

You pull away, enough to be out of her reach. She tries to get closer but a hand on her hair denies her of you. “Speak properly, baby.”

A dopey smile appears on her face. A giddy giggle follows out.

“Breed me.”

Moments blur, and the next thing you know is Sakura sprawled on the bed–legs open–and you have her wet panties falling from your hands.

Hands take hold of her waist, curved to perfection, and you’re sliding down to her legs, hooking them up to her head, and you send it. 

Giving her backshots alone almost sent you off the deep end, but this view is a hell of a contender–eyes rolled back, jaw slacking, tits bouncing–as the air is full of wet squelches and dirty moans. Hands shoot out to your neck, pulling you closer, holding onto dear life as you fuck her into the bed. Her cries, now feeding into your ear, ignites something feral inside you.

“Fucking use me–” The words fuel you, pounding harder, hands pushing her higher. “More, more, more–” She’s pulling your hair, giving you this kiss that was all tongue. A deep thrust sends her moaning into your lips as she cums. Her legs tighten, wrapping around your waist as her walls clench around you, trapping you, taking you for herself.

She falls down to the bed, basking in the afterglow, your dick still deep inside of her, feeling her spasm. She’s ruined, hair sticking on her forehead, eyeliner running, chest heaving. She looks like an angel.

You let something slip out. Three words, two seconds, one meaning. It was the truth, an absolute that you needed to tell her. Sakura focuses on you, eyes melting, cupping your face, giving you this smile–real, genuine–that tells you everything you need to know. 

And she still says it anyway. The kiss that follows solidifies it.

Then her grip tightens, it doesn't matter where, and she says three completely different words that spirals you down to your baser instincts.

“Cum inside me.”

The pace you set is slower this time, gentle, showing instead of telling. All the things you want to say told through the way you hold her, fill her, fuck her. Love her.

Your hand takes solace in her waist, another cupping her breast. She hasn’t looked away from you, still holding you as you fuck her. Still moaning your name out when she kisses you in between thrusts. Still giggling like a schoolgirl on a first date.

And when you feel that pressure in your stomach rising, she hooks her arms around you, on your shoulder, your hip, as if she knows you’re about to cum. To give her everything–every thought, every word, every feeling–all in this moment.

“I want it.” A whisper. “All of it.” A name. 

A kiss.

“Please.”

Your body tenses, cock pulsing as you cum inside of her. It was overwhelming, blinding. You feel it pouring into her in waves, thick, warm. You hear her moan softly, taking it all, draining you, savoring you.

You fall on top of her, body exhausted, breathing uneven. She leaves pecks on your neck, uttering all these loving words, arms still wrapped around you like a cocoon.

Three words cut through the air.

You smile against her neck, tickling her, causing her to laugh. It was, no. She is everything you could ever ask for and more.

“I love you too.”

—

After that night, things change.

Having your feelings out in the open wasn’t as complicated as you thought. If anything, it feels great.

Like when she’s cuddled up to you in the mornings, when you’re cooking dinner together, when you two go out on dates–though she still has to hide her face, she is an idol after all.

Your apartment’s livelier now, more home-y ever since Sakura’s all but moved in, more of her stuff scattered around the rooms, the guest room abandoned in favor of yours. Now the only time you have to clean it is whenever her group comes to visit the apartment. Chaewon has been insufferable ever since.

Things change. Except, it doesn’t.

You still make her breakfast when she has to leave early in the morning. Still have your weekly gaming sessions. You still do your bets, though nobody really loses anymore. Not when you or her can do whatever you two want when you win.

Like when she tied you to the bed and rode you so hard the bed frame broke-

You’ve learned over time that Sakura goes all in on things that she wants.

A new computer? She’ll buy the latest and greatest. 

Knitting? She’ll get the best fabric available in the market. 

Fucking you? She’ll perform like it’s a year-end performance.

And she’s gonna pull out all the stops.

Dressed in nothing but a push-up bra, a pair of fishnet thigh highs and black leather boots, the power at which she slaps you across the cheek–with consent and safe words in place, of course–makes you reel, and she hauls you all the way to your bedroom and shoves you down the mattress.

“Been waiting to do this for days.” She growls out, crawling over you, pulling your wrists together above your head with one hand, and getting a pair of fabric from the nightstand with the other.

You’re still dazed from the slap, still confused on how you got to the bed, vision blurry from how rough she’s treating you. When your vision does clear, you see this trail of saliva on her lips before she spits it out, straight to your face.

“You don’t talk till I tell you.” Sakura’s relentless, pulling one of your arms up to the headboard where she wraps the fabric around it. She does it again.

It was tight, stings like a bitch when you try to pull on it, and that gets you another slap. Another serving of her spit. “Stop fucking moving, nerd.” Then a pair of fingers shove into your mouth, wet. From spit or from her, you don’t really care.

All you know is that it’s making your cock strain against your shorts, Sakura grinning above you, and the cold air brushing your legs as she pulls your shorts and boxers down, exposing you to her.

She lines herself up on your cock, pushing your head inside, then pulling it away, teasing you with it, driving you crazy. And when she sees you squirming, hips trying to thrust into her heat, she laughs.

“So fucking desperate.” And she buries herself down into you, enveloping your entire cock, her tight, wet cunt stretching to take you in. 

“Yes.” She drags it out, grinding on you, head tilting backwards, savoring how you feel inside her. “Shit-” She’s brutal in her pace. The frantic way she bounces on your cock, moving faster everytime she drops deep inside of you, rolling in between, desperate to get her high. She is definitely going to bruise your hips after.

You let out this groan out of pain, pleasure, delirium. You’re enjoying this, not as much as she does, her soaked pussy dripping down the sheets, each slick squelch blending with the slaps of your skin molding with hers and you are fucked out of your mind-

“So good-” She’s leaning down, pressing her weight against yours, lips on your ears as she whispers all the filthy things she’ll do to you. 

“Could fuck you like this all night.” 

“Gonna make you my bitch the entire fucking weekend.”

“Fucking love it, doncha nerd-” Her hands are on your throat, pressure non-existent, fucking herself harder onto your shaft, the creaking of the bed getting louder, bending under the pressure that is Sakura-

Crack.

The bed sinks awkwardly in the center, pressing you deeper into the mattress. But she doesn’t care. It just made her hornier, made her pussy wetter, drenching you more in her and all she can let out is this shaky, dirty laugh.

“I’ll buy a new damn bed-” She’s unrelenting, the force she’s fucking you getting harder, faster. “-Just  need to cum on this goddamn cock-”

Sakura’s entire body goes up, back arching, head rolling, the pressure on your throat suddenly getting tighter just as her cunt was, and she lets out this scream that echoes around your apartment. Your legs seize up, the pleasure drowning, overwhelming you. You let 

You follow her after, spurts filling her up, leaking down, mixing with hers as you’re both basking in the mess you two made, enjoying how tight her pussy is, how much she’s gushed all over you. How much she’s going to own you.

Then a laugh. “We just broke the bed.” A lick of her lips. “Might as well make the most of it.” Her hips start moving again. 

Your neighbours are going to be so angry tomorrow.

Or when you used her throat for the entire day when you won that one week-

The amount of times you’ve pushed her down on her knees today was the same as the amount of times you’ve fed Sakura your cum. It’s a shame you keep losing count the moment your cock slips back into her mouth.

She’s a mess, from the cum that’s dried up all over her face, her hair, her chest, to the spit that’s coated her chin, mixing with the cum on her, the tears that have been falling from getting her face wrecked, to the panties that she’ll most likely throw out after tonight.

Yet she’s still taking your cock like a champ, face scrunched up as you’re thrusting into your latest obsession; Her wet, hot mouth.

It was addicting, like a drug you never thought you needed, seeing your cock disappearing, forced into the back of her throat and she leans into the depravity. Hell, she doubles down on it whenever she can, hollowing her cheeks, licking your balls when her mouth meets your pelvis, fucking her own face on your length when you need a break from pistoning your hips.

Which is exactly what’s happening now, when your head’s tossed back on the couch as she’s drooling all over you, hands on your thighs, her nails raking over them; She’s inhaling your cock, her nose hitting your stomach everytime she goes down on you.

“I fucking love your mouth, Kkura.” Your hands find her hair, some strands wet from the cum that’s struck them, her hazel hair a bit darker from it. Your grip gets tighter. “Can’t get enough of it.”

And your hips are moving, plowing into her mouth again and again and again and she’s bracing herself because that’s all she can do other than the fresh tears that spill out of her eyes, the broken moans she sounds out, letting you know how much she’s enjoying being treated like a fleshlight.

The view was amazingly filthy; Sakura’s jaw wide open with your shaft, balls wet from all the spit that’s flying out of her mouth, eyes never looking away from yours no matter how dirty, rough, brutal you get with her.

Then you push her head, angling her in a way that shoves you even deeper down her throat. “Face just as good as your pussy-” You’re fucking her face harder, the tears in her eyes running in droves. She’s smiling through it all, and that pushes you even more to break her completely on your cock.

You don’t give her a warning when you cum–she doesn’t need any. You just keep going, fucking her mouth, fixated on how wet and hot and tight it was, until you feel the familiar tightening of your abdomen making you go faster, deeper.

It was animalistic, how you abuse her throat like a toy, how you pull on her hair like they’re pigtails, how she’s still holding that smile through everything you’re dishing out. Then your legs started shaking, your gut getting tighter till you can’t hold it anymore; You slam her down on your cock, giving her throat another hefty coating of your cum.

She still hasn’t looked away when she’s swallowing every drop, the gulps almost audible every time your cock shoots out another batch. She’s inhaling it like air, getting all of it down inside of her before you pull out just as you let out ropes of cum on her, applying another layer of it onto her already nasty, sloppy face and she’s glowing, humming in satisfaction, degrading herself even further.

And when you’re spent, she lets out this drunk little giggle as she cleans you up of all the spit and cum that’s left. Never once breaking eye contact with you.

She’s all sorts of ruined, and you would do it again in a heartbeat.

It’s still the same traditions and routines with Sakura. Except it wasn’t.

It didn’t just feel great. It feels right. Like it completes you.

And now you’re here with her, having another one on one-a shooter game this time-and you’ve lowkey been throwing the game, missing shots that were basically free, and Sakura’s cheering, trash talking you from across the room where you set up her computer.

But you made it close. Made her sweat for it, made her work for the win, and when she does? She gives you the same grin that she always does.

Except it isn’t.

She gives you a peck on the lips, and before you can push her further, she pulls away. “My turn this time.”

And while she rummages through her closet for something, you’re smiling, stupid, fondly, loving. You don’t tell her. You don’t need to.

Not when you can spend the rest of your life showing it to her.

“Here it is!” The grin disappears on her face, replaced with something soft, gentle. Her hands are behind her back, hiding whatever she took from the closet from you.

“You trust me?” An eyebrow lifts. “I’ll let you back out from this just one time.”

You stand up, hands on her shoulders, smiling down. “You know I do, Saku.” Then you huff out a laugh. “Do we need to use safe words again?”

“Yes. Yes we do.” She’s giggling, before stepping up on her tippy toes to give you a kiss. “But I promise to take care of you for this.”

Then her smile‘s gone, this stare–serious, ominous, wicked–taking over her entire being. 

And in her hands was purple, long, made of rubber.

It wasn’t the first time she’s brought a dildo to the table, but this one was…unique, to say the least. Smaller than the ones that she usually pulls out, a leather brace holding it upright; It’s pointed towards you, staring blankly. Menacingly.

And you’ve never been more scared and turned on in your life.

“Get the lube.” She states, head nodding off to the side, as if you know where it is. “I’m gonna fuck you in the ass, nerd.”

Is Miyawaki Sakura a freak? Absolutely. No question about it.

Do you love her regardless? Yeah. You do.

And you wouldn’t trade her for the world.