#Honestly... it was slim pickings this year

[isa-ah]

where do people even find good septum rings???

[reidsfilm]

SPOILED ROTTEN — MIGUEL O'HARA

divider credit: cafekitsune. art of Miguel credit: _insomniac_red_

PARING: miguel o'hara x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with a little plot, p in v (wrap it before you tap it folks) dirty talk, swearing, fingering, blowjob, pet names; mi corazon, bebita, mi amor, baby, etc. age gap (miguel is in his early thirties, while the reader is in her early twenties)

SUMMARY Miguel takes you out to celebrate your birthday. A catfight occurs between you and a woman, who thinks you are nothing more than Miguel's trophy wife. Miguel shows you you're much more than that.

WORD COUNT : 6,5k

Notes: English is not my first language, so bear with me. There might be spelling mistakes here and there. Still not over this man after watching ATSV last year. This is probably super messy because I honestly lost track of what I was writing.

Miguel and you were going out to a party to celebrate your birthday. You had dolled yourself up with a black bodycon dress that fit snugly to your slim yet toned body. You wore a pair of black stiletto heels. Miguel had surprised you with a beautiful silver necklace with an 'M' engraved in it, for the initial of his name.

Miguel was your sweet and caring mafia husband. You had known him for around a year now, and he was a couple of years older than you— well over a decade older. ''Do I look good?'' You questioned softly as you did a quick spin, letting out a soft giggle.

A low chuckle escaped Miguel as he pulled your face against his to kiss you softly. He ran a hand up your thigh teasingly before you both walked out the door.

“You look stunning mi corazon, now let’s get a move on before I decide to take you back inside and give you an early birthday present.” You felt your cheeks flush at his words.

Miguel opened the car door for you, smiling that charming smile that made you lose your thoughts. You got in and Miguel followed suit as he settled in next to you in the backseat. ''Thank you for this, by the way. I love it.'' You muttered as you touched the necklace, looking at him with a soft smile.

Miguel's hand placed itself on your thigh, giving a soft squeeze. ''Anything for my beautiful girl. Happy birthday.'' He muttered before pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

When the two of you arrived, there were already a few others there. The place was huge, a mansion that could probably fit in at least a couple of hundred people. Miguel always knew the right places to take you, which wasn't odd: considering he was a mafia boss who had quite the list of contacts, for various things. People flooded in through the large doors, music playing.

Your eyes scanned around the place as you stepped inside, seeing people dressed in fancy attires, which probably cost a fortune

Beautiful women in gorgeous dresses, and men in elegant suits.

''I think I picked a dress that was too short...'' You mumbled, making Miguel chuckle as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, ''Should've picked something even shorter. Give everyone a little show with that pretty little ass of yours.

Your eyes widened as you turned your head, meeting his dark eyes, ''Miguel!'' You exclaimed with a small huff. Miguel smirked as he watched you try and keep yourself presentable.

He took a hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles, grinning. “I have to go say hi to an old friend. Make yourself comfortable.” You hummed at his words, before watching Miguel start to head towards the back of the estate.

You're eyes landed on the small bar by the corner, and you headed over as you were in desperate need of a drink. Miguel's earlier words had made something stir in the pit of your stomach.

''One martini, please.'' You said to the bartender, who nodded while you patiently leaned against the bar counter. You tapped absentmindedly on the wooden surface.

“Hey, sweetie. Why are you standing here all by yourself?” A womanly voice made your head turn, a brunette wearing a gorgeous red maxi dress. Her lips were painted red, matching her dress.

She was beautiful.

She held her own martini in her hand, eying you.

''Just waiting for my drink and my husband,'' You replied back with an awkward smile as your gaze wandered around.

You were never good around huge crowds of people, especially so many gorgeous-looking people that were scattered around the place. Made you feel slightly out of place. You'd been with Miguel for a year, but you were still not used to all this prestige stuff: the riches and all its glory.

“Ohh a husband, huh?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked you up and down. You could tell what she was thinking. Typical gold digger.

“What’s his name?” She asked, the corners of her red lips curving into a smirk. You shifted a little, feeling slightly nervous as she stared at you, almost like she was trying to make you feel small.

''Miguel...'' You replied back nonchalantly as you shifted a bit on your feet, your heels making a clinking noise against the marble floors. You watched as a few men were standing around a couple of strippers who were dancing. Their moves were gracious and alluring: you wished you could dance like that.

“Miguel? Don’t tell me you married the Miguel?” She tilted her head, smirking. It almost sounded like she was shocked by your words. “You’re very lucky, you know that?” Her eyes seemed a tad resentful and jealous at the same time.

''Mhm..'' You simply hummed as you ignored her presence beside you, your eyes continuing to wander around the area as you rubbed your bare arm— a nervous habit you'd have, but you supposed a lot of people did certain things when they were nervous or anxious.

''Here's your drink, miss.'' The bartender's voice broke you out of your little daze as you turned back, ''Thank you.'' You muttered before taking the martini in your hand and taking a sip.

“That man is so fine, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on him and showing him a good time.” The woman scoffed, laughing to herself. As if she’d even have a chance.

“He must make quite a living, right?” She questioned though it sounded more like a statement than a question. Of course, he did, Miguel was the epitome of money and wealth. But he didn't let it get to his head, which you found endearing.

''And?'' You turned your head to face her, raising an eyebrow.

What was she trying to accomplish?

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a gold digger. We all know it.” She smirked at her own comment, crossing her arms under her breasts. “You’re obviously only with him because he’s rich.”

Who was we? She had never seen this woman nor any of the other people her in her entire life. So who was she to judge you?

You placed the drink by the counter

''Obviously.'' You mocked back as you rolled your eyes, mimicking her posture as you crossed your arms under your breasts, feeling them push up against the material of your dress.

You loved Miguel, with all your heart and soul. And you couldn't give a flying fuck if he was rich or not, it never mattered to you. All that mattered to you was him. You remember how frightened you were of him when you first met him, and weeks into your marriage you still were. It was an arranged marriage after all. And you hadn't actually wanted to be married, well you did, but on your own terms.

At first, you found him to be an arrogant prick who had a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass. But after a while, you saw a softer side of the man, behind that rough and stoic demeanor. You grew to care and love for the man.

“Hah, well at least you admit it finally.” She groaned, smirking. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” She laughed lightly, looking down at your dress.

“You got the dress to match his money too? Or were you going for a bit of slut in there somewhere?” The comment had caught you off guard, her laugh was a bit too loud for comfort.

This bitch.

You felt your jaw clench as you stared her down. ''Listen here, you perky little bitch. If your goal here is to try and have your pretty little lips wrapped around my husband's cock, you'll have to try better.''You snarled at her as you narrowed your eyes.

“Awe! Aren’t you a feisty one? Come on, you just can’t get enough of the rich and famous, yeah? Just looking for someone to fund your every need and want.”

“You want my advice?” She asked, her demeanor suddenly sweet and bubbly again as she took a step closer “It’s better if you start talking to the strippers here. You and they have more in common than you do me or any of the other women here.” She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes, waiting for a reaction from you.

Who the hell was she to talk to me like this?

You flinched at her words, taken aback by her blatant rude and berating words, ''Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like that.''

''Damn, don’t get your panties in a twist sweetheart'' She chuckled, taking another step toward you, your faces close. “I know someone as pretty and as young as you has to struggle. Do you not have food to eat at home? Does Daddy not care for you anymore and leave you alone? Is that it little girl?”

That was the tip of the iceberg.

You harshly slapped her across the cheek, sizing her up. ''Don't ever speak to me like that again.'' You spat as you stepped back from her. A few people in the room looked over at the scene, eyes glued as we stared each other down. The woman stood there for a moment, her hand slowly traveling to her cheek before her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

The woman’s face turned bright red, both from embarrassment and rage. She took a few steps towards you, the people surrounding you clearing out quickly, knowing exactly what a heated exchange between the two of you would turn into.

Miguel was nowhere to be seen and that only worried you a little. She pulled herself closer, her words sounding like fire on the tip of her tongue.

''That was a mistake. A huge one. You’re lucky my father taught me restraint'' She hissed, her face almost touching yours, making her teeth and breath seem closer.

''Yeah? Did he now? I don't think he taught his little girl any manners.'' You seethed as you pushed her back, making her stumble against the bar on the side.

The woman stumbled, her dress rising a little more to reveal more of her skin. Her face turned a deeper red due to both the embarrassment and the heat of the situation.

“I can buy you.” She threatened, reaching out a hand, and grabbing your wrist.

“And it wouldn’t take me even a quarter of the money my father has in his back pocket.” She snarled, her grip tightening on your wrist as she squeezed it tightly.

You groaned from the intense pain of having her hand around your wrist, squeezing it. Your mouth was set into a hard line as you stared at the woman before you. ''Let go!'' You snarled as you tried yanking your wrist free. You could stand your own ground, always had. But you knew well enough that Miguel would be furious by this, but it wouldn't be directed towards you.

“Nope.” She chuckled, tightening her grip on your wrist before leaning closer, her nose almost brushing against yours.

“Your just a little bitch.” She hissed, her hand moving to your other wrist as she held both tightly. You let out a soft cry, feeling her grip tighten around your wrist, and would most likely leave faint marks.

“You want to talk about your ‘husband’ Miguel? I’ll take him from you in a heartbeat.” You let out a scoff at her words, making her eyebrows furrow a little, ''You think he wants you? A dried up fucking wrinkly bitch like you?'' You seethed as a mocking smile formed on your face.

She let go of one of your wrists, raising her hand up, about to smack the shit out of you...That's when you heard the loud and firm sound of your husband's voice.

Miguel was now standing there, his broad shoulders towering above the two of you, his face cold with anger. His eyes narrowed at the woman, his mouth set into a hard frown.

“Don't.” He didn’t ask, his tone firm and cold with a slight growl in the back of his throat.

The woman huffed as she dropped her hand, finally letting go of your wrist, but not before turning to you and rolling her eyes. You looked down at your wrists, noticing how they had turned all red and irritated from the grip the woman had on them. You rubbed them, trying to ease the pain. ''Bitch...'' You muttered in a low tone.

''I can see you’re an uneducated little whore who can’t help herself,'' she sneered, her face turning a deeper red as she looked at Miguel. “Oh, did I hit a nerve? Sorry, handsome.''

Miguel rolled his eyes, his hand slowly traveling down to your back while he spoke. “Apologize to my wife.” His tone was still cold and sharp.

You gazed around the area, noticing how everyone was looking at you. This was supposed to be a fun and delightful birthday for you, and yet it had turned into full-on chaos the minute you arrived here.

Your gaze went back to the woman, narrowing your eyes at her. Just the mere thought of this whore trying to get her little mouth anywhere near Miguel's cock, was making you angry.

''I said apologize'' Miguel’s voice turned a lot grittier, the woman noticing how his eyes looked like they were filled with actual hatred towards her.

The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s barely your wife!” She hissed, before looking at you.

“How could you even get married to the son of the big boss? You’re not good enough for him, are you?”

Your lips curled up into a smug smirk, ''Is that so? Are you sure you aren't jealous that Miguel's big cock is buried deep inside me every single night, and not inside you?'' You snickered at her, putting on a mocking pout as you stared at her.

''Bebita...'' Miguel warned lowly, despite it he found your words sexy as you put the woman in her place. It made pride stir within him.

You knew she was extremely jealous that you got to have sex with Miguel whenever you wanted and this cheap whore would never even get a glance of his body naked.

You also knew despite your slightly unruly long hair, that you looked so fucking sexy while you were putting this woman in her place.

''Go along. I'm sure your mouth has a better use elsewhere.'' You made a 'shoo' motion with your hand.

The woman’s eyes lit up with rage, and she took a step forward, her face only inches away from yours as Miguel kept his hand on your lower back.

You were both staring each other right in the eyes as her lips started to curl into a small grin and then they widened into a big smile as she laughed.

''I’d gladly take your place. In the bedroom. And I know he’d enjoy it.'' She turned her head to look at Miguel, who was watching the whole scene with a stoic expression.

''Yes, I'm sure he'd very much enjoy someone as loose as you,'' You replied back mockingly.

“At least I’d keep his cock satisfied for more than five seconds,” she chuckled.

''Enough,'' Miguel said, before he sighed, turning to you as he looked at you with concerned eyes. He was always so careful of you, always making sure that you were okay. But he couldn’t stand hearing someone talk to you in such a vile way.

''Come. Outside with me.'' He asked softly, gently taking your hand as he started to walk away. You stared back over your shoulder at the woman with a smirk as you walked away with Miguel. Your stiletto heels made click-clack noises against the floor.

Miguel held your hand as you walked outside with him, the two of you stopping a few meters away from the estate as he sighed and leaned against a tree. He looked at you with concern in his eyes, his lips parting to speak before he shook his head and looked down at the ground.

He chuckled awkwardly, running his free hand through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Let’s forget about that woman back inside, eh, mi amor?”

''Forget who?'' You replied back with a smile on your lips. You snaked your arms around his strong waist.

Miguel huffed, turning his head to look down at you as your lips brushed against his chin.

''That woman was a complete bitch to you.'' His voice sounded almost worried as he looked at you.

He smirked, his own arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against his hard body. “Don’t you feel like you need some sort of revenge?”

''I've got my revenge, right here.'' You let out a soft giggle as you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. And it was true; as that woman wanted nothing more than to spend a night with Miguel, if not more. Your sweet revenge was the fact that he was all yours.

''Hm, true.'' He chuckled, his hand slipping down your back to your hips as the kiss lengthened and you two stayed there under the moonlight together.

His free hand held the hem of your dress, gently lifting it to reveal more and more leg as his eyes locked onto yours.

A soft kiss on your cheek as he looked back at you. “My naughty, naughty wife…”

''You're the one trying to take my dress off, right here in the open.'' You chuckled softly as you stared up at him. ''Plus, I'm not wearing any panties,'' You whispered, your tone sultry.

“How scandalous.”

Miguel continued to look at you as his hand continued to travel up your thigh, moving ever so gently. His voice was now a lot lower with lust in it yet it was full of playful sarcasm.

''Maybe I’ll just have to bend you over this tree and show you how naughty your husband thinks you are.''

''Yeah?'' You looked up at him as you slotted your bottom lip between your teeth.

God... you wanted nothing more than him to stuff his thick cock inside you, right here. You stared up at him with doe eyes, an almost pleading look in them. ''I want it. Please.'' One hand slipped from around his neck and down towards his crotch, palming his cock through his dress pants, making him let out a soft groan as you simply stared up at him with an innocent look.

He was already so hard, the little brawl inside and the way you had put that woman in her place had made him extremely horny, but there was nowhere that was far enough away from the estate to get some privacy. Not with guests still arriving.

His eyes locked onto you as he tried fighting back his urges, his breathing steady as he spoke. “Wait til we get home. Don’t torture me like this, mi corazon.”

''Then take me home, show me how good you can fuck me.'' You purred and that's all it took for him, ''Anything for the birthday girl.'' He said before quickly hauling you up into his arms, making you squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

''You were so sexy back there,'' Miguel muttered as he carried you through the large lawn. His words make a cheeky smile form on your lips, ''Yeah? Made you all *hard*, hm?''

''You have no idea.''

You sat in the car next to Miguel, staring out of the window as you passed by different cars and buildings and such. You fiddled with your hands as you thought back to what that woman had said about you.

Gold digger.

Sure, you stood your ground and wouldn't take any bullshit from anyone, yet the words she had said had stung. And it had made your head spiral. You turned to look at Miguel, ''Baby...'' His head turned and his dark brown eyes met your own eyes.

''Si? What is it, mi amor?'' He questioned as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. ''You don't think I'm a gold digger right?'' You mumbled as you looked at him, and his eyebrows furrowed, confused by your words.

''What? Why would you say something like that? No, no of course I don't think you're a gold digger, bebita.'' He reached up to place his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

''It's just... the woman—'' He cut you off, placing his finger over your lips to silence you. ''Don't listen to whatever that vile woman said. You're anything but.'' He reassured as his eyes softened, ''I know you love me, and I love you. No one's going to come in between that, okay?''

You nodded as he spoke, ''I know.'' Miguel didn't seem fully convinced that you believed his words, and he took your hand in his, placing it against his chest. You felt his heart going thump thump against the palm of your hand, as his own hand rested over yours.

''My heart beats for you, and you only.'' His words were reassuring and so gentle and sweet, and you knew that you had the best husband in the whole wide world.

''So does mine.''

The car stopped outside your shared mansion and Miguel gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before stepping out. He reached his hand out for you to take, and you gladly did before letting out a soft gasp as Miguel hauled you up into his arms.

''Miggy!'' You exclaimed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, looking at him with wide eyes. ''My beautiful bebita is not walking a single step.'' He smirked as he looked down at you, though his dark brown eyes softened the more he looked at your face.

''You're making me feel like a queen today.'' You muttered as Miguel carried you into the house, ''Just do today? I thought I always made you feel like a queen.'' His playful jab at you made you roll your eyes.

''You always make me feel like a queen.'' You corrected yourself and Miguel looked at you with a prideful smile. He carried you up the large stairwell before walking down the hallway to your shared bedroom.

''I have one more present for you.'' He said as he placed you down on the large king-sized bed, making your eyebrows furrow, ''Miggy, you already gave me this beautiful necklace. I don't need anything more from you, I just need you.'' Your words were soft and sincere as you looked at him.

Miguel let out a small chuckle as he bent down to give you're cheek a kiss, then the other, before his lips met yours, ''You deserve everything there is in the world. Mi precioso.'' You're stomach fluttered at his words as he pulled away from your lips.

''Stay right here, I'm gonna go and get it,'' Miguel said, his words sweet yet commanding at the same time. So you sat there and waited as he headed out of the bedroom. You took off your heels in the meantime, and oh did it feel good to get them off.

What had he gotten you?

Miguel came back after a few minutes, and your head perked up as he stepped back into the bedroom, with a glittery black box in his hands. You shifted a little on the bed, watching as Miguel crouched down in front of you, before extending his hands towards you, presenting it to you.

''Happy birthday, mi amor.'' Miguel said with a wide smile on his lips as you took the box from his hands, ''Thank you, baby.'' You muttered softly before you opened the lid of the box, settling it next to you on the bed. You removed the black tissue paper sheets, and your eyes widened at the sight.

You plucked out what was in the box, ''Miguel...'' You started at the pretty black lacy two-piece set of lingering, it was pretty yet so sexy as well. ''I love it!'' You exclaimed as you turned to look at him and he chuckled at how happy you seemed by it; just how he hoped you'd be.

Miguel leaned up to brush some hair away from your face, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, ''I want you to wear that when I fuck you.’’ His words sent chills down your spine, making you shudder.

''Put it on bebita.'' Miguel placed a soft kiss below your ear before pulling back and getting back up on his feet. ''Okay, I'll be right back.'' You mumbled before taking the two-piece set with you and heading into the bathroom.

The thought of Miguel having bought you a present, and fuck you senseless with it on made heat pool between your legs. You slipped the straps of the dress off of your shoulders, reaching to your back to drag the zipper down. You shimmied out of it, letting it pool to the floor.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in your flushed cheeks and pink lips; you look disheveled and you hadn't even been fucked yet.

''You almost done? I can barely wait.'' You heard Miguel's voice outside the bathroom door, ''Give me a minute.''

You slipped on the new set, taking yet another glance at yourself in the mirror. The lingering set fits snugly on your body, showing off your curves in just the right way.

Damn, I looked fucking hot.

You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door and stepping out. Miguel was seated on the bed, having slipped off his tie, and opened a few of the buttons on his tight-fitted black dress shirt. The man was the epitome of sexiness. His eyes landed on you as you stepped out, and you caught his dark brown eyes looking even darker as he stared at you.

''Fuck, look at you.'' He purred as his eyes raked over your body, his tongue coming out to lick over his bottom lip. It was like he was devouring you by just looking at you, and that alone made you sure that you looked amazing in the lingering.

''You like it?'' You questioned as you did a quick twirl, making Miguel let out a small growl. ''Do I like it?'' He said as he got up from the bed, walking over to you. His larger and taller frame loomed over you, almost enveloping you.

''I fucking love it. God, you look so good.'' He placed his hands on your hips, his hands squeezing at the flesh. ''Could practically eat you up.'' He said gruffly as he stared down at you.

You looked up at him, ''You've been so sweet to me. Let me repay you, baby.'' You didn't let him respond as you sunk down to your knees in front of him, with doe eyes as you grabbed onto his belt buckle. Your eyes were locked onto his as you unbuckled his belt, and undid the zipper of his pants.

You licked at your lips, ''Can I?'' You questioned in such a soft and innocent tone.

“You can have anything you want,” He muttered, trying to remain calm for your sake if you were even aware of what you were doing to him.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you dragged down his pants along with his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles. Your mouth was salivating at the sight before you. His cook stood tall, practically begging to be worshipped. ''Have you been this hard since the party?'' You questioned softly, your eyes gleaming as they flitted up to meet his own dark brown ones.

''Ever since you put on that pretty little dress of yours'' Miguel placed his hand underneath her chin, pulling your chin up slightly.

''Gonna take me like a good girl, hm?'' His body began to quiver at the thought of you taking all of him down your throat. He felt almost powerless with the way you looked up at him.

'Yes.'' You purred as you looked up at him. He traced his long digit over your bottom lip, before tucking it slowly into your mouth. You stared up at him with blown-out eyes, your cheeks a rosy hue as you began to suck at his finger. The whole scene was sensual and so erotic.

The act itself made Miguel's cock twitch with anticipation and need. His tip leaking with pre-cum. “Just as eager as I thought you’d be.” He muttered as he watched you.

''Always eager to take anything you give me, papi,'' You muttered softly as he slid his finger out of your mouth with a pop. He traced his wet finger over your swollen lips, making you whine softly. ''Need you to fill my mouth up,'' You whined once more, eagerly shuffling closer to his cock.

You looked perfect, on your knees, your lips parted, and looking up at him.

''Need to make you feel good. Been taking care of me so well.'' You purred softly before you wrapped your delicate small hand around his shaft and inched it closer to your mouth. You stared up at him as you wrapped your lips around him, taking all of him in.

You let out a small gag sound as he hit the back of your throat, saliva trickling down the side of your mouth and down her chin. You pulled him out of your mouth, letting out a small cough. It certainly had been a while since you'd done this.

''Sorry.''' You mumbled sheepisly.

His hand caressed the back of your head, as his breathing grew heavier. “S’okay, you’re…you’re doing fine.” He panted out, fighting back the urge to not just take what he wanted, the urge to push you down further on his cock.

''Go slow, bebita. No need to strain yourself.''

You licked at your lips, taking a deep breath as you took him back into your mouth. The sound of gurgling and gagging bounced off the walls, as well as Miguel's groans and growls as you continued to suck him off.

He held the back of your head, gripping onto your hair as he guided your head up and down on him. ''So good for me. Taking my cock like the good girl you are.'' His words only spurred you on, making her moan as you sucked on him, tongue swirling against his cock.

Your eyes started to tear up as you steadied your hands on his thighs. Miguel's praises were going straight to your core; making you even more wet than you already was, if that was possible.

A few of his grunts and groans escaped his mouth, the sounds were loud and evident, and he couldn’t do anything but grip your hair harder. It felt good.

''Keep going... feels so good... yeah that's it,'' Miguel growled as he pushed your head further down on him, feeling him hitting the back of your throat continuously. ''Fuck... gonna cum.'' Miguel's head tilted back as his hips pushed against your mouth before he let out a guttural moan as he came. His body shuddering as his hand in your hair felt almost painful but pleasurable at the same time.

You swallowed the salty substance before taking his cock out of your mouth with a pop.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes, her cheeks a red hue and your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Miguel was panting and coming down from his climax. ''Did I do good?'' You questioned softly, as you licked over your lips.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, his lips curling into a small smile. He brushed away a stray piece of hair from your face.

“Mi amor, you did more than good,” He muttered, before tucking his cock back into his pants.

Miguel helped you up from the floor, your legs a little wobbly and your knees feeling a little bruised due to having them pressed onto the hard floor. ''You always taste so good when you come in my mouth,'' You muttered softly. Miguel pulled her into a soft kiss, cradling the back of your head as you whined into his mouth.

Miguel pulled away from her swollen lips, before bending down a little to reach out to the back of your knees, hauling you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. A soft giggle escaped your lips as he carried you over to the bed.

You let out a small oof as you landed on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed. You shuffled closer to the pillows, letting out a soft sigh as you snuggled up to them.

Miguel lifted and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his tan and muscular upper body, before chucking it onto the floor. Miguel's eyes widened a little as you noticed a new scar on one of his shoulder blades. That wasn't there before.

You shuffled to the edge of the bed, settling yourself onto your knees. ''Did you get that one when you were away for the week?'' You questioned softly, your eyes locked on the scar on his shoulder blade. It was a nasty scar, and Miguel was a mafia boss. Of course, he indulged in dangerous things. It was a part of what he did.

A soft smile curled on his lips, but it grew tight with pain as he remembered where the scar came from. “Yeah…” He muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his sleek black shoes.

He let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing the scar as he listened to your soft voice. “Bullet wound. Took it on that last job.” He muttered, sounding distant, the scar was still fresh, and he was still learning to cope with the reminder of their failed operation.

You moved closer to him, settling yourself behind him, your arms wrapping around him. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on the scar, humming softly. ''Did you at least get the fucker who gave you that?'' You placed your chin on his shoulder, tilting your head a little to meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” Miguel mumbled, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. “Beat the information out of him.”

A hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading themselves through your hair.

''Damn... didn't know my husband could resort to such violence. It's sexy.'' You purred as you leaned into to kiss his cheek, before pulling away and falling back against the bed with a soft giggle.

Miguel chuckled at your words, before standing up and removing his pants, leaving him in his black boxer briefs, before stepping back over to the bed and sliding in beside you. His chest pressed up against your back, as he moved some hair away from your neck before leaning down to place wet kisses against your neck.

You hummed softly as he pressed himself more up against you, feeling his hardening cock press against the material of your underwear. ''Mhmm.... Miguel.'' You mumbled as you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your neck, and his cock pressing up against the globes of your ass.

His hand snaked around your waist, skimming down to the waistband of your underwear, before slipping inside. You instinctively spread your legs a little, giving him more room to explore. His fingers found your clit, dragging two of his digits through your soaked slit. ''So wet for me, hm?'' He crooned into your ear and you only whined in response, your back pressing up against his chest.

''You like that, mi corazon?'' He asked, mumbling against your neck. You nodded, as you spread your legs wider for him. Miguel stopped, as he grabbed your jaw with his free hand and made you look at him. ''Use your words.''

''Yes, I do...'' You said softly, almost like you were embarrassed. Miguel couldn't help but smile as he went back to circling his fingers over her clit. Your soft little whimpers drove him wild, and he wanted to hear more. He slid one finger inside you, pulling back to watch your face. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, and the sight drove him feral.

''Mierda, you're beautiful,'' Miguel said, pushing his finger a little deeper inside of you, curling it. After a while, your moans were growing louder as he added another finger. Your hand grabbed at his wrist, but he kept going, going faster. Your back arched against him,, and your moans reached a higher pitch.

''You're doing so well for me.'' He whispered, nipping at your neck. ''You're such a good slut for me, hm?''

''Yes... oh god.... please don't stop.'' You replied, your legs closing up around his hand as the pleasure built. Miguel nudged you to open with his free hand, holding onto your inner thigh as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

''Be a good girl and come all over my fingers. So I can lick it all up after.'' Miguel purred as he continued to thrust two of his fingers up into you, feeling his curl and twist his wrist, hitting that spongy spot.

''Miggy... gonna come.'' You whined as you arched into his chest once more. ''Not yet, need to fill this pussy up with my cock first.'' He muttered into your ear, voice sultry and sexy. Miguel removed his fingers from your aching pussy, making you whine at the loss of contact. Your head tilted a little to the side, seeing him slip his two fingers into his mouth, tasting your essence. The sight made you bite your lip.

Miguel took out his hardening cock from his boxers, before nudging the head between her folds, coating it in her slickness. ''You ready?'' He questioned and you hummed in response, ''Yes, please. I need it, need you.'' Miguel didn't need any more confirmation than that, as he slowly nudge the head of his cock into your tight and wet hole.

Your hand gripped around the bed sheets, head tilting back against his chest as he slid into you, slowly. ''Fuck you're tight, bebita.'' Miguel groaned as he pushed in further, feeling your walls clamping around him, squeezing him.

His hand snaked around your waist, holding onto you as he let you adjust to him before slowly rutting his hips against you. Your hand wrapped around his arm that laid around your waist, nails digging into his skin. ''So good... faster,'' Miguel growled at your words as he started quickening his pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he slid in and out of you.

''This pussy was made for me. Just me.'' Miguel said as his breathing quickened, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling up the room. ''Just you.'' You echoed back as you felt yourself reaching your climax. Miguel could feel it too as you squeezed around him.

''You close?'' He rasped into your ear, ''Yeah... close.''

Miguel almost slid out of you before slamming back in, making you jolt as a wanton moan slipped from your lips. ''Then cum, want you cumming all over my cock. Milk me dry, bebita.'' And that's all it took before the coil in your stomach snapped and your orgasm washed over you, nails digging harder into the flesh of Miguel's arm.

Your buddy shuddered and twitched as your vision went white for a second, feeling your body slowly come down from the high. ''That's it, good girl.'' Miguel cooed as he continued to thrust into you, reaching for his own release.

And he wasn't far behind before he emptied himself inside you with a growl, painting your walls white. Your chest heaved up and down as Miguel slipped his cock out of you, feeling his cum dripping out from you and down your inner thigh. Miguel reached his hand down between your thighs, collecting your cum and his before pushing two of his digits inside, making you whine at how sensitive you were.

He leaned over and grabbed your chin, turning your face to meet his as he pulled you into a searing kiss. Your hand came up to the side of his face, slipping up into his dark luscious locks as you hummed against his lips.

He pulled away, putting both hands on your cheeks as he cradled your face in his hands, ''Happy birthday, mi corazon.''

[cattordi]

a/n did y’all miss me??? writing this in class 🤗 so enjoy. honestly felt like i write absolutely too much abt absolutely nothing

summary you get a flat tire on the way to a party and on top of that you’re in the middle of nowhere so you call bucky to help you

pairings brothersbestfriend!mechanic!bucky barnes x collegestudent!reader

warnings smut , breeding, praise, not proofread, choking, foul language, arguing?,a bit of fluff etc. 18+ MINORS DNI

don’t test me

“only this would happen to me” you groan before pulling your car over in the absolute middle of nowhere.

you were on the way to a spring break party but clearly the universe had other plans. getting out of your car, you walk around to check out the damage.

low and behold, a flat tire.

“no fucking way.” you whisper. you were miles away from a gas station or any sort of place other people were. grabbing your phone from your back pocket of your jean shorts, you scroll through your contacts finding your brothers name.

you place the phone to your ear and sit for a bit letting it ring.

and ring.

and ring. until finally you’re sent to voicemail.

what the fuck?

you hesitate as you keep scrolling through your contacts looking at other options of help; until you finally reach that one person.

bucky.

your least favorite human to ever walk the earth but you could never deny how he made you feel sometimes.

the man was good with his words, you have to admit it.

only problem was, he was your brothers best friend and also a dick.

pressing the call button, you wait as the phone rings.

“please pick up, plea-“

“hey y/n, what’s up?” he says and there’s shuffling in the background.

“hey, i’m sorry to bother.”

no you aren’t.

“i got a flat tire and i need help changing it. if you can’t that’s fi-“

“where are you?”

“in the middle of nowhere.”

“what the hell? get in your car and send me your location. i’ll be there in 15.”

knowing you’re at least 30 minutes out of town, you comply and wait.

after what feels like 20 years, bright head lights blind you from behind and you sit up in your car. your drivers side door flies open and a pissed bucky stares at you.

“you could’ve at least locked the door y/n. hell you could’ve gotten murdered.”

rolling your eyes you get out, “didn’t think anyone would even be out here at this time of night.”

“don’t start with your attitude.” he begins while pulling a car jack out his truck, “i’m not in the mood.”

“whatever.”

“why are you even out here this late?”

“what are you my dad?”

“no but i’m your brothers best friend and i have the right to know.”

“it’s none of your busines.” you say and glare at him.

“tell me.”

“no.”

“y/n..” he basically growls at you.

“no.”

“i swear if you don’t tell me.”

you can see the frustration in his face so to be a brat, you keep going.

“i was going to get fucked.” you say and try not to laugh.

visible jealousy crosses his face and he stands from his squatted position. “you what?”

“i was going to have sex? is that a prob-“ you begin but are cut off by a hand around your throat.

“you know that pisses me off, so why keep pushing it? hm?” he hums the last part, “you tryna get to me darling?”

you do the best you can to nod as pleasure filled tears brim your eyes.

this is what you always wanted from him.

his metal hand slims into your shorts finding your clit. “do you want me to take you in my truck?”

you nod and his eyes go dark, taking a bit of the pressure off your throat.

if anyone passed by, you’re sure the police would be called.

“use your words.”

“yes.”

“good job baby.”

you both walk to his truck, him following behind you.

he opens the door to the back for you and you hop in immediately filled with even more excitement.

as soon as he closes the door behind the two of you, his lips attack yours. though you’re in such a small space it feels just right for the two of you.

pulling at your shorts, bucky unbuttons them and pulls them down with your underwear.

he takes notices of the wet spot on your panties and chuckles. “so wet for me already.”

his hand slids between your folds; coating every inch of you before two fingers slide in.

you gasp at the stretch and his pace only gets faster. “you feel so tight around my fingers baby.”

“i’m gonna cum.”

he stops and you’re immediately pissed off. “why’d you stop?”

“i want you to cum when i’m you.”

you hadn’t notice his jeans were down but his dick caught your full attention,

and my lord was it big.

“it’s not gonna fit.”

“oh it will. lay back for me.” he says calmly all the while, lining up at your entrance.

the anticipation wears off as soon as he slams in you and begins moving. the truck fills with sounds of moans and skin slapping.

“you’re so tight, i love it.” he says and his strokes become faster.

“you’re so big.” you say in between moans. “i’m getting so close.”

“you’re doing so well,” he begins and leans down to kiss you, “you take me so well.”

you’re getting closer and closer to coming everytine he hits your sweet spot and it couldn’t feel any better. “harder please.” you moan and he complies immediately, thrusting into you.

“i’m gonna cum.” you say and at that moment his thumb finds your clit and rubs big meaningful circles.

“my lord darling, you feel so good around me. it’s taking everything in me not to cum right now.”

he continues to thrust into you getting you closer and closer to what you both desire. “i’m cumming bucky.”

“i feel you darling, keep going. you’re squeezin’ me so tight.” he begins and you continue to cum around his cock,”i’ve waited for this for long baby.”

yours moans get louder as when grabs your legs and puts him on his shoulder, making his thrust hit a different spot inside of you. “y/n..” he moans, “fuck you’re making me fun babydoll.”

with that, his continues his fast thrust hitting your g-spot repeatedly till he comes.

warm spurts of cum fill you as his thrust slow down and eventually come to a halt. “holy fuck that was the best sex i’ve had in a long time..” you say while trying to catch your breath.

“you wanna go again?”

[lovelybarnes]

Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises. 

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

-

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you. 

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

-

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

-

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug. 

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

-

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains. 

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

-

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

-

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably. 

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously. 

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

-

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks. 

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?” 

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.” 

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons. 

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

-

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose. 

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend. 

-

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path. 

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

-

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down. 

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh. 

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back. 

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve. 

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

-

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

-

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

-

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit. 

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily. 

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can. 

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability. 

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.” 

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues.  “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

[st4rbwrry]

LUV THIS SHIT | eren yeager.

‍ ‍ ☆. warnings — 3.1k. fem!reader, eren’s pent up from working out, asmr sexting, submissive reader, impact play [ face smack, spanking ] public arousal, indecent behavior, mating press, f!oral, fingering, profanity, established relationship, lots of making out, unprotected sex, eren’s aggressive, floor sex, riding, creampie, artist!reader, pet names, reader has black features, minors aren't allowed! 

‍ merry christmas! ♡

eren starts his day the same every morning. the alarm goes off at six o'clock which is never your favorite thing to hear considering you're not an early bird. usually groaning in your state of sleep and tugging the blankets away from him after he kisses you on your forehead and steps out of bed. you always snuggle on his side before the warmth he created grows cold. proceeds to take a steaming hot shower, tilting his neck back to let the heavy beats of water dampen his long hair. lathers his body with african black soap you picked up from a shop while SONDER plays from his speaker, careful not to blast it too loud to wake you up. it's your off day so he's respecting your wishes to hibernate all day.

he honestly hates leaving you alone in bed. sue him but being your little spoon is the best thing he's ever known. he's never slept so good in his life until he met you. never knew it felt so comfortable being in another persons arms. eren’s next step is to dress for the gym, the only reason he's up this early three times out of the week. a dark gray towel is wrapped low around his slim waist, tatted chest and arms running with water droplets as he wipes the foggy mirror clear to see his reflection. washing his face with a kale, spinach, and green tea cleanser along with brushing his teeth, cleaning his tongue with a scraper and gargling mouthwash. he forgets to do this backwards sometimes considering he has to eat first. the taste lingers and makes his food nasty.

afterwards, he’s moisturizing his face with cerave healing ointment and his pouty cotton candy lips with one of your babylips sticks. lathering his body in vaseline coca butter lotion and slipping on a olive green colored sweatpants with a black cropped metallica muscle tank, wrapping a matching black bandanna over the top of his towel-dried chestnut hair. he spritz this cologne you picked up at the mall when thinking of him called art deco amberwood by clive christian. makes you fall to your knees to suck him off every time now that he thinks about it.

by then it's near seven and he's down in the kitchen with his black airpod max’s over his ears listening to jazz while he blends his smoothie with spinach, kale, strawberries, blueberries, and pineapples. he gulps that down after filling a mason jar completely. and for further consumption, he makes avocado toast topped with chia seeds, himalayan salt and pepper and two strips of bacon each.

before he leaves he makes sure to run back up the stairs to double check on you to see if you needed anything before he left such as picking up a coffee from dunkin or anything from the art supply store. he peaks his head through the door to see you sprawled out, mouth open and snoring peacefully, cuddling his pillow. he smiles to himself, mumbling ‘my pretty girl’ before quietly tiptoeing close to the king-sized bed with satin sheets to give you a kiss or two before heading out, moving your bonnet aside to whisper that he loves you.

he's got his gym bag and his car keys when he leaves, taking the elevator down the parking lot of the loft you two live in, three years now. he finds his car parked directly next to yours. cute. the pretty wolf gray kia k5 besides his onyx lexus rc 300. there's a gym located in the building but he prefers the one your brother owns a few minutes out of the area.

it's around ten o'clock when you fully wake up, missing his presence already and pouting about it before heading to the shower yourself. sitting in a towel for a full hour stuck on tiktok and getting a craving for samyang carbonara noodles and rice cakes. it's really the only thing that made you leave the house today, throwing on a pair of eren’s gray nike shorts you had to roll up to properly sit on your hips, and a black tank, jewelry remaining on your skin everyday from layered necklaces to multiple bracelets. 

you're sitting in the starbucks drive thru which has an incredibly long line but you're not minding the wait, craving a pink drink suddenly. the sun was hitting nicely into your car so you decide to take photos to pass a little time, thumb slipping and accidentally opening the voice memos app with only four recordings, one of them fairly new. created about two weeks ago and you vaguely remember that night. it's about an hour and fifteen minutes long

'luv this shit <3’ is what it's titled. not remembering exactly how it went. you and eren only used this app whenever you're having sex, meaning those four audios were strictly nsfw. you bite your lip in curiosity, deciding to press play to hear it, flinching when you hear how loud you were screaming on top of forgetting that your phone is connected to your cars bluetooth. you swallow in panic, turning it off and sitting back in silence, twiddling your fingers, becoming impatient with the line now because you wanted to hear it. it had to be something the two of you made when you were intoxicated. or else you would've remembered it.

you've retrieved your pink drink, and now it was time to park, too impatient to wait and hear this. sipping your drink, you get comfortable, holding your phones speaker to your ear and pressing play yet again. there's music playing in the background, luv this shit by august alsina in specific, now you knew where the title came from. probably eren’s doing. a rush of heat swarms your cheeks and gut as you hear your boyfriend’s voice, deep and stern as he talks to you while skin connects and your moans overshadow the music. the sound of you kissing wetly makes you shift in your seat, feeling his soft lips on yours at the moment. you loved kissing him.

it lasts for about two minutes before eren’s voice becomes louder than yours when he's fucking you hard, your voice muffled by your hand you assume, doing that a lot since you think you're too loud. “let me fuckin’ hear it,” there's his voice again, unconsciously whimpering along with yourself in the audio. eren’s whining with you, the two of you gasping and listening to how wet you were. a loud smack erupts and you're crying his name, the memory slowly coming back. he smacked your face. the jewelry on his wrist prominent when he does it again, this time it's the outside of your thigh.

“rennnnnn! fuh-uuck.”

“i hear you, baby. come on, come on, come on, cum, cum, cum.” with every thrust he gets louder, hissing as your pussy constricts around his dick. “that's it, pretty. yeah.”

you nearly spill your drink over your lap, the cup slowly slipping from your grip after you zoned out, catching it quick and collecting yourself, setting it in the cup holder. you need to leave. actually, you need to send this to him. he has to be done at the gym by now. then again, you're never sure with him. the man could work out all day if he wanted.

being risky, you grin, pulling up his contact and sending him the audio, following with a text that said . . .

NEW MESSAGE

kuromi princess hello kitty baby star ♡

don't we sound pretty? <3

follicles of eren's hair stick to his sweaty forehead, putting it up before he started his workout, going on for about three hours now. RICH FLEX blasts in his headphones. the neckline of his top is doused with sweat, removing the boxing gloves off his hands to sit down and gulp a full bottle of water. checking his phone, he sees your message. lifting his brow at the audio you had sent, reading your response, and clicking it without hesitating. immediately when he hears your desperate pleading and skin smacking, his pupils dilate, clenching his jaw and checking his surroundings. not many people were in this area of the gym.

“fuck me, baby. fuck me, baby. fuck me, babyyy,” eren listens with wide eyes as he hears your pretty moans, skipping through the audio to hear bits and pieces.

“yeah, speak to me like that.”

eren grows shamelessly aroused from what he's hearing, swallowing hard and shifting his dick back in place, breathing heavier. he's mad at you. mad because you know he's in public and he gets easily turned on by anything regarding you. whether it be your scent, your smile, your eyes, or your fucking voice. when you talk, or scream his name. it's all the same. he's triggered by it all. and you know this, so why test him? not to mention the two of you haven't been sexually active because you've been caught up with work and painting and he's been working doubles. the only time you spend together is brief mornings in bed or one day weekends, usually sleeping all day or being lazy.

all he can think of this moment is fucking you rough and raw. gathering his belongings without another thought and sending you a brief text.

pretty boy ren <3

yea, okay.

it's so stressful walking with a hard dick, and eren really can't wait until he gets home to fuck you up. such a dirty girl needing to be put in place. he forgets his headphones have noise cancellation, so when he's speeding home like a dummy, music continues to thrum in his ears, acting like a complete madman. exactly five minutes before he enters the apartment, you're sitting in your usual corner of the loft where you've made your art station. sitting on the ground while incense flows and sza’s new album plays soundly. a canvas laying on the ground where you sat on a cushion, finger painting a collage of the weeknd’s discography since it's the 11th anniversary for echoes of silence. unaware of the message you received.

that is until you hear the familiar sound of keys jangling and in a matter of seconds, the front door flies open, there standing a big, tall, visibly irritated man. your eyes go wide from seeing him, eren kicking off his shoes, heavy feet stomping towards you and you sit up with curiosity, trying your hardest to hide your devious smile. you knew it'd have that effect on him. eren’s hot hand grabs your jaw fervently, clenching his before yanking your face close to his to connect your lips in a heated kiss. smacking his lips roughly over yours, moaning into his mouth, his eyes focused on your face as you close your eyes too comfortably for his liking. as if you're not in trouble for the shit you pulled.

your hands kept to yourself on either side of his wide shoulders, eren dragging you down to lay on your back onto the cushion you previously sat on, slipping off the black panties covering your neglected pussy, weeping, and waiting for him to get home to do exactly this. staring up at him with glee in your eyes, it's the opposite in his. he can't hear a thing you say because of his headphones, not bothering to toss them off because the only thing on his mind is sliding his dick inside of you and getting his nut off.

raising your knees without his help, he's pushing them further up to your chest, folding you still before arching his neck to release globs of spit onto your cunt three times max, each one emitting a ‘puh’ sound. you clench from his dirty act. his big body hovers over yours, heavy dick practically drenched in precum resting on your mound before eren angles his hips to slip into you. he doesn't give you time to brace yourself, gasping as he groans and thrusts his hips fast, your skin clapping and body jerking under him. beautiful green irises switching darker as he stares into your soul, your moans faintly being heard.

“think you fuckin slick, baby?” eren rasps, your mouth agape, his grip on your thighs harsh. “did that shit on purpose just so i can fuck that pretty pussy stupid on my cock, right?”

“y-yess,” he watches you nod drunkenly, your hands digging on your sides into the rug beneath you. every pound into your slick pussy vibrates into your throat, following his rhythm. happy tears brim your eyes.

“s’okay. ‘cause i got something for you.”

his pace hastens, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he drills deep, jackhammering almost, like a needy, inexperienced boy. your cunts squelching loud, hand pressing at his abdomen in attempt to slow him down but he only fucks you harder, air knocking from your lungs. it's so fucking hot the way he's handling you right now, like he's been so deprived of you for so long he couldn't stand it. couldn't even take his clothes fully off, keeping every piece on because he needed you that badly.

“ooh, i'm fucking cumming. ssss, fuck,” eren moans. you squeal as eren takes both your arms and crosses them over your tummy, holding them there while he puts his weight on you and grunts in your face. sweat dampening his bandanna, breath mixing with yours as he cums inside you. coating your walls with thick spurts of white. your knees buckle from the feeling, his lower halve twitching from the rush.

eren licks his lips, stilling his movements to take a breather, knocking back one of the ears to his airpods to hear how desperate you sound, slowly pulling his dick out, still hard.

“eren, i didn't cum,” you whine, squirming with an attitude.

“i think i knew that.”

you put your middle finger up to him for his smart ass tone, eren arching a brow and scooping you up without another word. smiling, you cling to him as he moves towards the couch, deciding to stay seated on the floor, lifting you so you sit on his lap. his cock resting on his stomach where you're able to see toned abs and a dark, neatly trimmed happy trail to match your cute brazilian strip all cause of that slutty, grunge crop top he has on. his back rests against the furniture. you take the initiative to remove these stupid headphones so you could put your hands and mouth around his neck.

“i don’t think you understand how much i thought about fuckin’ you today. you really fuckin’ don’t.” eren lands a heavy hand on your ass causing you to jump and scoot forward from leaning back on his knees. “could barely fucking focus. all because you sent me that shit.”

“and because you miss me,” you whisper, delicately skimming your lips over his, arching into him as he spreads your ass cheeks apart after smoothing over them. spanking you hard on either side until you gasp into his mouth and he could kiss you again.

“sink on it real slow,” eren taps your clit with the tip to say he wants it done now. sucking on your lip, you raise yourself till he's kissing the entrance and gently easing down, indenting crescent moons into his broad shoulders momentarily. dragging your hands to your waist, you rub over your body, hissing and throwing your head back, feeling a storm of euphoria fuel you. eren hums in fascination as you lose yourself in the bond.

“g’na say sorry with your pussy, baby?” eren taunts in a baby-like tone.

“mhmm,” what eren wants, eren gets. and if he wanted you to ride his dick you were going to. getting up on the tips of your toes and rode only on the tip first, eren choking on his spit with brows furrowed and praising you. soon, inching lower to bounce yourself up and down to his liking, being sure to clench your walls a little tighter just to hear him whine. when eren gets really feral he gets really loud. unable to control what his vocal cords let out. he used to think it was embarrassing, but the two of you have shared enough time together to dismiss judgment. he sounds so pretty when he's getting fucked good.

“shit, you keep fuckin’ me like that m’ not gonna last,” ignoring him, you continue to clap your ass down, skin interaction picking back up, eren’s hands on your hips just for leverage. he never needs to guide you. a few squeezes occasionally since he's so sensitive. painfully aroused it makes no sense.

“i can't last long,” you warn, pawing at his chest as you raise your ass and fuck him faster, eren moaning and helping you out by pounding up into you. you fall forward into his arms, yanking you down each time you'd rise back up. smacking your ass just to hear your voice pick up. “eren, fuck baby!”

“unh huh, keep goin’,” eren’s face scrunches up, whining in your ear while keeping one of his tatted arms wrapped around your backside. your thighs begin to burn but you know stopping isn't an option when he sounds that good in your ear. eren gets aggressive and hits into you harder, same time ass you drop down with more force, tugging at his hair and he whimpers your name.  “keep that shit up, baby. yeahh.”

it feels so good you start crying, missing this so much. holding onto him for dear life as he somehow moves quicker, slouching in his spot so his neck settles back onto the couch, slipping his right hand under your right thigh and raising his hips to fuck up into you, lifting you like you're one of his weights at the gym. you watch as he mumbles ‘fuck’ with his eyes scrolled back and mouth wide open, jawline sharp, and adam’s apple in his throat prominent. he looked so fucking good right now you just had to kiss his neck. eren hitting that spot so good you can't control yourself from screaming, mouthing at his neck and leaving hickeys. he smells good, hints of musk and that damn cologne you love, feels good, looks even better. then wonders why you act the way you did. he’s made a monster.

“you fuck me so good, ‘ren. love you so much, missed you so much,” at this point you're babbling, saying anything that comes from your brain mindlessly. it's enough to make eren bellow streams of curses before hiking your ass off and nutting over your back, eren releasing a high-pitched gasp as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. vision blurry. 

before you complain, eren’s lifting you higher and scoots further down to sit you on his face, hot mouth munching on your soaked cunt with puffy lips. your eyes cross and you scream into the air, gripping the couch as he slides two fingers, middle and pointer, deep into your hole, thrusting while his fat tongue laps at your clit, silver cuban link on his wrist cold on your stomach. he's swallowing your arousal like he's drinking a glass of water, moaning into your pussy and spanking your ass with his unoccupied hand.

“oh my . . .  god,” you're breathless as you cum, legs twitching and squealing from the intensity of your orgasm, losing balance and falling forward. eren smirks and smacks your ass one last time before moving from below you, sitting on his knees behind you and pushing your back down to fix your arch, turning your head to face him, fucked out face staring at him like he was crazy for putting his dick back inside you. you already feel so sore. 

eren arches his brow. “oh, you thought i was done?” 

[happy74827]

Something Wholesome

[Logan Howlett & Teen!Fem!Reader]

Synopsis: In which you can’t help but feel the need to comfort the big grumpy ape.

WC: 2054

Category: Comfort, Slight Fluff, Reader is Vanessa’s Younger Sister, 4th Wall Breaks {TW: Wade Being… Well, Himself.}

Even being the worst Wolverine, I believe he still is 100% a girl dad, and I stand by that statement.

『••✎••』

"I thought you quit?"

Your voice startled him. He jumped and almost dropped the cigar he was holding between his teeth. Logan's eyes fell upon you, standing in the kitchen doorway with your arms folded.

"Jesus, kid. You're gonna give me a heart attack." He shook his head, taking the cigar out of his mouth and holding it between his fingers. It was still unlit. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

You held up a ring of keys and shook it in the air, the jingling of metal echoing around the room. "It’s called having a brother-in-law who can pick locks." You tossed the keys on the counter and sat down across from him, resting your head in your hands. "Are you having another midlife crisis, Warrior Cat?"

"You're a brat, y’know that?" He rolled his eyes, taking the cigar and tossing it back into his jacket pocket. He ran a hand over his face, sighing.

You watched him closely. The bags under his eyes, the wrinkles, the slight hunch to his shoulders. He looked old… and not the usual, rugged, cool old. You frowned, leaning across the counter.

"You know, with Wade always around, I haven't had much time to check up on my favorite Canadian." You tilted your head to the side.

"Don't let Canuck hear you say that," he snorted. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes. You could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Seriously, Slim Jim," The joke earned a slight scowl from him. You grinned, knowing it annoyed him when you called him that. "You look your age today. What's wrong?"

Logan stared at you, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head. He was probably wondering how much to tell you. If anything, at all.

You were used to it by now. His reluctance to talk about what was bothering him, his unwillingness to rely on anyone. It was his default, and you understood that, but after three months of sharing an apartment with blind meth-headed Trunchbull and Scary Terry, it was getting really tiring.

Finally, he sighed. "I've been thinkin'."

"Oh no." You feigned fear. He shot you a warning glare. One of those 'try me and see what happens' glares. "About what?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes kept glancing toward the pocket his cigar was stashed in. He was struggling not to light it.

You were about to ask again, but before you could, he finally spoke up.

"I drove past the school a few days ago. It's still standing, y'know. It looks the same as it did 15 years ago." He laughed, though it sounded empty. "Abandoned, sure. But it's there."

Yeah, clearly, Disney spent all their budget on Princess remakes. A shame, really. The mansion was a good place to have movie nights.

"And it just...hit me, I guess. Everything's gone, kid." His voice grew soft, and the expression he was wearing broke your heart. "Everyone I knew, everyone I ever cared about, is dead. All I got left is this shitty apartment, a crap truck, and annoying roommates who drive me crazy."

"To be fair, I haven't had any accidents in three months," Wade called from the living room. Honestly, you weren’t even aware he was home. It was even more of a miracle that he heard Logan. "Saving the world has improved my driving skills. Now, I only hit pedestrians."

"Shut the fuck up, Wilson," Logan barked, his claws popping out of his knuckles with a snikt. "Or I'll shove those swords up your ass and make you eat 'em."

“Slow your roll, Caesar Salad; this is a PG story. Step off with the sexual violence, at least until you have the author's consent to do so." Wade turned the corner into the kitchen, a huge bag of Taco Bell in his hand. "Besides, Vanessa wouldn’t be too happy if she found out I was cheating on her with your foot long. You know how jealous she gets. One time, I tried to-"

"Wade, please," You groaned. He looked at you, then at Logan, and nodded.

"You're right, you're right. I should respect the rating." Wade waved his hand in the air and made his way out of the room, taking a bite out of one of his tacos. "Also, the fact that I’m technically a father figure in this fic, for reasons we can't disclose here. I’d rather not turn this wholesome story into some weird-ass daddy kink porno, even though I wouldn’t mind if it were."

He turned his attention to an empty wall momentarily, a smile creeping on his face. "I have a feeling you guys wouldn't either, judging by the comments on those other ones, and honestly, I don't blame you. My body is a temple, and it should be worshiped. Just ask all those Honda Odyssey rewrites. They'd know all about that, especially the ones that end with me getting-"

"WADE," You and Logan yelled at the same time, his claws still unsheathed. Logan looked ready to jump over the counter and murder him, and while it wasn’t uncommon for Wade to be shredded like string cheese, the two of you had had enough drama to last the rest of the year.

"Ugh, fine." He threw his hands up, his tacos spilling all over the floor. "But just for the record, I totally just stole the focus of this fic. Don't let Logan fool you. He's only the main character because this is his story, but the real star of the show is moi." He pointed a finger to his chest and winked at you. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Get the fuck outta here," Logan said, his claws sliding back into his knuckles. "I swear to god, Wilson, if you ruin my day any more than you already have, I'm gonna shove you into the wood chipper."

"You have a wood chipper?" Wade raised an eyebrow, grinning. "My, oh, my. Who would have thought the lumberjack would make a reappearance?"

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One," You muttered.

"Don't push me, asshole." Logan was growling, his claws once again threatening to slice into the other man.

A normal person would have run away by now, but not Wade. You had known him long enough to understand that he thrived off of conflict. He was the most chaotic son of a bitch you had ever met, and nothing excited him more than pissing people off.

But, again, this wasn’t his story. He was just hijacking it, and the author had had enough. So, without further ado, they did the most logical thing. They made Mary Puppins appear, and suddenly, she was in his arms, and he was out of the kitchen, leaving behind the Taco Bell, his jokes, and his dignity.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to laugh. You managed to contain it, but just barely.

You glanced over at Logan, and he still had a look on his face like he was drained and exhausted. Of course, now annoyance and anger were mixed into the cocktail.

With your sister’s boyfriend out of the picture, he slumped down against the counter, running a hand through his hair. Not much of it, given the current length, but enough that he could pull at it.

"I'm sorry," You said. You felt a pang of sympathy for him, and you couldn't imagine the shitstorm that must be going on in his mind. After all, he wasn't like the rest of you. He was a lot older, and his life had been filled with a lot more heartache and pain than you would ever experience. "It sucks."

He didn't say anything, so you continued.

"I mean, I don't know what it's like, obviously, but I can't imagine how it must feel to lose everything like that. Everyone." You paused, thinking about your family. Your own life hadn't exactly been a picnic, but the world hadn't come crashing down around you. Not yet, at least. "I can't imagine the kind of strength you must have to go on."

He grunted, which was pretty much the Logan version of a 'Thank you.'

"I just..." His voice was quiet. "I just want something permanent. That’s not this." He motioned to the room around you, and you couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes.

"I get it."

"I don't think you do, kid," he muttered, staring at his feet.

"Hey, give me a little credit. I might not be ancient like you, but I've seen some shit. Wade is infatuated with Nessie, so I go through that bullshit every other day." You shook your head. "The two of them can be a real handful together."

"No kiddin'." He snorted.

"I mean, sure. The world went to hell, but I think it's pretty safe to say that you deserve something good after all the crap that's happened." You shrugged, looking around the room. "This is that something."

He stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered if you said something wrong. Speaking to him was always a gamble. Sometimes, he would respond, and the two of you could actually hold a conversation. Other times, he would shut down and refuse to talk, or worse, yell at you.

It seemed like luck was on your side today.

"Maybe." His eyes moved to his hands, and his gaze was distant. "It's hard to think that when I'm stuck in this hell hole."

"It's not that bad."

"You’re just saying that so Wilson doesn’t think about moving back in with your sister." He rolled his eyes. "And it is. We all know that."

"Okay, fine, you're right. The apartment is shitty, and so is the neighborhood. The landlord is a bitch, and the neighbors are loud." You took a breath, leaning closer. "But, you have us."

"Oh, don't you start."

"And you've got your truck and your liquor and the crappy TV in the living room. I say, if that isn't permanent, I don't know what is."

Logan opened his mouth, but you held a finger up.

"You might not realize it, but you have a family here." You smiled at him, and he scoffed, turning his face away from you.

"I've had families before. Doesn't work out."

"Well, we're of the more persistent kind," you teased, reaching across the counter and punching him lightly on the shoulder. "We aren't going anywhere. Especially Wade. Man is a tick that refuses to let go."

"God, I wish he would."

"He won't. You're stuck with him. You’ll be the best man at his wedding, and we both know it." You grinned, and he rolled his eyes, though the corner of his lips quirked.

"Great," he muttered.

Secretly, you knew he enjoyed the banter with Wade. He acted annoyed and irritated, but deep down, you were certain he was amused. Might be frustrated, but definitely amused.

You were about to tell him that, but he spoke first.

"Thanks, kid." He reached across the counter and squeezed your arm. "You're a pain in the ass, but you're not so bad."

"Not so bad?" You snorted. "Wow. Is that how the Wolverine slid into the hearts of millions?"

He chuckled and shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "You know what I mean, you brat."

You stood, walking around the counter. You threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t hug back for reasons that you understood. Still, you wanted him to know that you were there for him and he could rely on you.

"You know," you started. "I think a lot of people would be surprised by the softy you are under all the grumpiness."

"Yeah, well, don't go around spreadin' that." He pushed you away gently, shaking his head. "I’m not a damn teddy bear, and I'll rip your throat out if you start tellin' people."

"I’m getting the Wade treatment? A threat of death if I speak a word?" You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m honored."

"Sometimes I wonder if he is your sibling instead of your sister."

"Nah, I’m too pretty to be a Wilson." You smirked. "If anything, I'm more related to my cousin."

"The one who tried to kill you last month?"

"That's the one."

"Then you definitely are a Wilson."

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch8 A Scarred Heart

(How many hearts can Y/n conquer? Let's find out on the next episode of Dragon Ball Z- Jk. Warnings for death mentioned.)

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml @tengensangel

@miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom @lavenderdropp

@mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

Your heart was fluttering. Soaring like a plane even. As you walked down the road with your head leaned against Gyomei's arm, arm wrapped around his own, and holding hands. It was the perfect start to your new morning and walking outside only to be surprised by Gyomei patiently waiting to walk you to work.

Although you both did stop by the cafe where you had your first date to grab some coffee and something to eat. Chasing after kids all day meant you'd be needing the energy, however you were surprised by seeing a small box next to the cash register. A sign above it advertised some kind of raffle.

"What's that?," you asked pointing towards the box out to the cashier.

He brightly smiled. "It's a raffle to celebrate Kimetsu Academy's fiftieth anniversary! If you leave your name and contact info, you get a chance to win a thousand dollars and a certificate for free cafeteria meals for the rest of the year! Only registered students can enter though." He nudged the box closer to you. "Would you like to enter? I just need to see a student ID to confirm you're a student and you can enter for free!"

"It's going on today?"

"Actually students have until classes are over this Friday to enter, and the winner's gonna be drawn Saturday. How about it? Wanna enter?"

A thousand dollars AND free lunches for the rest of the year!? You could use a thousand dollars to help pay off your car! Or pay bills for a while! Or get Gyomei a great present! And free lunches for the rest of the year would save you SO much money!...Buuut the chances of you getting picked within like thousands of other students was slim. Oh what the heck. It was a free raffle. Even if you didn't win what's the harm?

You did end up digging your student ID out of your bag to confirm your student status to the cashier before writing your contact info on a piece of paper, slipping it into the box, grabbing your coffee, and then leaving with Gyomei.

He himself felt his cheeks and ears burn up a bright happy pink as the smaller hand squeezed his. He was still half convinced that it was all just a dream and he'd wake up to no one being there. But as she held onto him as they crossed the campus and towards your workplace. You were surprised to see that he came inside with you until your coworker came up to you with a baby currently nomming on their hand in her arms.

"Y/n, there you are! Practically everyone dropped their kids off already and we've been swamped!," she grumpily said. "It's about time you and the new guy got here!"

You blinked staring at her confused. "New guy?"

He gestured to Gyomei behind you bouncing the drooling baby on her hip. "Yeah? Himejima. The boss liked his application so he got the job."

You blinked in surprise blinking before turning to Gyomei who still only smiled at you. "Is that what you meant by 'the job interview ' you had?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry for not telling you beforehand but I didn't know if I would get the job here. It's only going to be for a year anyways before I finish my last year and earn my degree."

You beamed. "Are you kidding?! That's amazing! I'd love to work with my boyfriend! This is like a dream come true for me-"

"Then would you two PLEASE get changed and help me with playtime?," your coworker interrupted with a raised brow.

"Oh! S-Sorry."

You two quickly got changed into the signature pink aprons (honestly you were surprised they were able to find one that fit Gyomei-) and quickly just got to work helping your coworker take care of the infants that the parents dropped off before going to classes as your manages escorted Gyomei somewhere else. Guess she wanted to walk him through his first day on the job, and help out considering the increase of children that came into the daycare last month. But I digress. You only busied yourself by helping in the infantry wing of the daycare. Getting to work changing one crying baby's diaper before going on to sit down and attempt to rock a stubborn baby down for a nap. However he was stubborn and kept waking up just as he started to nod off and give an angry babble in protest.

"Stubborn little guy aren't you?," you asked him still gently rocking him in the chair.

Again the baby made a noise pouting and waving his tiny hands in protest making you chuckle-

RING!!

Until the front desk bell rang out. The noise caused you to stop rocking and your coworker to look up from counting the diaper supply in the nearby closet, both of you looking towards the doorway.

RING RING!!

The noise came back louder than before and one of the sleeping infants gave a small noise of protest in their sleep.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Your coworker mumbled before lightly placing her head on the closet door.

DING DING DING DING!!

The constant dinging of the bell made her inhale deeply and turn to you. "Give me the baby and go see who the heck is there before I go and ding that thing against their heads!" She was already holding out her hands for the baby in your arms just as another two ding sounds sounded from up the hall. "And tell them to shut up before they wake up these babies!" She hissed already plucking the half asleep baby boy from your arms and heaving him onto one shoulder.

"Sure." You stood up with a smile. "I'll get right on th-"

"WAAAHH!!"

Your head whipped behind you as finally the previously stirring baby woke up and started crying. Your coworkers eye twitch as only more dinging came from the front desk. You only quickly scurried out promising to come back soon and help her.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING-!!

A rapid ringing sounded as someone repeatedly just mashed the bell at the front desk making you frown annoyed. What kind of Karen were you going to be dealing with today? With a frown you poked your head out the doorway making out half the figure of a man turned away from you looking around the front lobby, a toddler on his hip and two bags slung over his shoulders. You frowned before inhaling deeply and forcing a customer service smile on your face.

"I'm coming!," you called out making your way towards him to which he turned around sharply.

"Oh thank fu-.." He paused looking at the boy in his arms. "..Fudge! Thank FUDGE!! I've been standing here forever and I'm late for my da-..DARN classes! It's doesn't usually take this-.."

He paused seeing who came out from the back hallway and you also paused seeing who it was. You blinked once. Twice. Before the realization that SANEMI was the one standing in front of you hit you. The same thing must've been happening to Sanemi because he slowly blinked, face surprised. You both probably would've continued if the little boy in his arms didn't look up from his toy and gasped happily!!

"Y/N!!," he cheered tugging on Sanemi's shirt and pointing the toy at you. "Nemi it's da nice lady!!"

Sanemi jumped as his little brother squealed out and looked at him. "What?"

"Hi, Sanemi," you greeted making him look back to you sharply however you just smiled. "It's nice to see you again. Were you looking for Gyomei?"

He seemed to finally snap out of it before shaking his head. "No. I'm dropping off my baby brother for my mom. She's busy trying to fix an emergency at work." Without saying anything he leaned his little brother forward into your awaiting arms. "And I'm already late for my dam classes-"

"SWEAR!," Koto tattled pointing back to his brother hurrying to get the diaper bag off his shoulder.

"Here! He's got some clothes n' stuff. I'll pick 'em back up when my classes are done!" The bag dropped on the counter with a plop sound before reaching out to ruffle his little brother's head. "Be good. I'll see you later."

With that he turned and practically ran out with Koto waving at his big brother. "Bye bye, Nemi!" A toy was shoved up to your face. "Play?"

"Not right now. I have to work but I'll drop you off somewhere you can play with the other nice kids."

In the end you dropped off both Koto and his bag with your manager in the daycare room before you left back to help your frustrated coworker in the infantry wing. Luckily it wasn't too much of a problem afterwards to get both babies to sleep again and help her with a supply count. It was a bit of a pain to have so many children with a few workers but somehow you all made it. However you can't say you weren't happy when the day started to tick closer to a close and slowly parents started filing in, some carrying backpacks or books from classes, and picking up their kids after showing confirming identities. You waved goodbye to a little girl who was picked up by her tired dad after coming back from chemistry class and waved goodbye to you with a smile! You couldn't help but wave back with a chuckle before returning to the back to help clean up and disinfectant everything else for tomorrow, passing by your coworker hauling out some trash and stopping by one room which lead to what was essentially a giant playroom bigger than your kitchen and bedroom combined.

A few people were already in there sweeping, and picking up toys, and wiping down things with wet wipes. One being your boyfriend who was still holding a familiar toddler in one arm and wiping spilt grape juice off a table with the other.

"How was your first day?" His head turned to you with a smile already on his face as you leaned on the doorway. "By the looks of it, you had a wild snack time."

He chuckled and you swore his deep chuckles would make anyone blush. "Just an accident with a leaky juice box. Overall it was rather well." He slowly stood back up turning his head in your direction. "They seemed to like story time."

"You should've seen him!" Your boss proudly looked at him from spraying the toys with a disinfectant spray. "The kids all adored him! And he put them all down for naps in record time! I knew I had a good feeling when I saw you!"

He chuckled a bit flustered at the older woman's praise. "I thank you for the compliment."

"Is he the last one here?," you asked nodding at Sanemi's brother in his arms.

"Yes," Gyomei confirmed, "But Sanemi might be a bit behind today. He's been really busy with classes and helping his family these days."

"Oh no. I hadn't known about that."

It was then Koto looked up at you and gasped. "NICE LADY!!" He cheered making Gyomei blink at him. "Now we play?!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the two year old. "No sorry. I have to help clean up."

A loud whine escaped his throat but Gyomei only hummed. "I had no idea you already knew Sanemi's family."

"I don't. Well not all of them." You gestured to the boy in his arms still giggling in his arms. "I've been working here since Koto was a baby, but I had no idea that Sanemi was his older brother."

He nodded wiping the table again. "Yes. His mother uses his student discount for the daycare since his other siblings are already school aged. I'm afraid Koto still can't attend the local preschool until he's four or five years old."

"Oh, that's why he was dropping him off. But it's strange I've never seen him drop Koto off before."

He hummed brows furrowing slightly. "Well it could be because of the recent strain his family is going through."

Recent strain? What recent strain? You didn't think Sanemi looked stressed yesterday when you all went to the onsen. Other than arguing with Obanai on horror movies but with how those two acted you got the sense that's how they were all the time. So what could it possibly be? 

"He didn't seem that stressed when I saw him Friday or yesterday even. Is he alright?"

Gyomei looked at you before again his head tilted at the boy playing with a toy car. "... We'll talk later."

You weren't sure what he meant by that but you respected his choice. For now you you left to go help clean up the nursery room before it was time before you all left. By the time you got done helping to wash and change the sheets and wiping down the surfaces, Gyomei was already standing outside waiting for you still in his giant pink apron and still holding Onto who looked like he tuckered out and decided to take a nap in his large arms. He turned towards the directions of your footsteps and smiled brightly. 

"Ah. There you are. Are you finished with your duties?," he asked politely.

You nodded. "Yes. Oh." You stopped seeing Koto still asleep in his arms. "Has Sanemi not arrived yet?"

He shook his head no. "No but he'll probably be running a little late. He also tutors for an hour after classes to help make some extra money."

"What does he do for a living anyways?" 

"He tutors math lessons and currently works online part-time for a telemarketing company that sells magazines."

"Oh. He must be really good at math then."

"The best actually. He's smarter than he looks."

"I don't doubt that." You giggled at the memory of him using those skills to get more girls on Tengen's back Friday. "Did you want to come over to my house for dinner tonight? I can make a mean spaghetti with mushroom sauce."

He hummed and was about to say something but before he could say anything a loud shout from up the hall caused both of you to snap your heads to the left towards the front lobby. It sounded like a woman's voice.

"No identification! No pick up! Now leave before I call security!"

You knew that voice. Your coworker.

"Fucking hell! That's my student ID! You want my dam driver's license too?!"

Uh oh. You definitely knew THAT voice. Quickly you approached the front peeking around the corner and sure enough found the sources of the cussing. Sanemi was looking annoyed down at your coworker with gritted teeth and his student ID was laid out on the counter by his hand. You coworker looked angry but slightly intimidated by the way he was leaning over the counter. She remained firm crossing her arms.

"You're not on the registry for pick up or emergency contacts. You're not allowed to take any child unless you're on the registry or the guardian calls to confirm alternative pick ups which neither have happened."

"Fucking-" A hand gripped his hair before running down his face. THUD! She jumped as both of his hands slammed down on the counter and he leaned farther onto it to shout at her face. "We have the same fucking last name! I dropped Koto off this morning!! What other fucking 'confirmation' do you want?!"

"S-Sir, if you don't calm down a-a-and leave I-Ill  call campus security."

"I AIN'T LEAVING WITHOUT MY BROTHER!!"

Oh no. This was escalating quickly. You had better step in before things got out of control.

"Lacey." Said woman jumped up and both of their heads snapped up as you smiled walking in calmly. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh thank fuck! It's you!" Sanemi sounded relieved before snapping Lacey another accusing look. "This walking clown is refusing to give Koto back! Tell 'er that I dropped him off!"

"Sanemi, we are a daycare. I'll have to ask you not to use cuss words and foul language or I'll have to ask you to wait outside." You lightly scolded him with a smile which caught him off guard with a blank blink. You just hummed turning to Lacey. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

Lacey scowled. "He's not on the registry. No registry or guardian notice means no pick up."

Sanemi looked about ready to combust with an eye twitch and a few viens popping up on his body. 

"Here. Let's just take a look at it to confirm just in case." With a hum you just gently nudged her out of the way so you could have access to the computer. Humming to yourself you just typed into it with both watching you. "Koto Shinazugawa. Right here. Now let's see...Oh. it does look like only his mom is listed." Lacey sent a smug look at- "Let's see if we had any missed calls from her." You continued into your database and with a few clicks of a mouse found something. "Oh. It looks like we have two missed calls from Mrs. Shinazugawa."

"Yeah! My mom tried calling you guys to let you know I'd be here!"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Let's just call her back real quick just to make sure everything's lined up. Alright?" You stayed professional smiling at him as he continued to glare but slowly relaxed. Leaning off the counter and crossing his arms as you grabbed the phone and redialed the number. A few rings went by your ear before you perked up. "Hello, Mrs. Shinazugawa! I'm sorry to call you-...Yes. I know you are probably busy with deliveries. No. Your son is fine! Sleeping like a baby! I just wanted to call you back to make sure Sanemi was supposed to pick up his brother....Really? Great! Sorry for the missed calls. We were swamped today. You have a nice day, Ma'am. Sorry for bothering you." The phone hung up with a click as you smiled at Sanemi. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll go get Koto's bag for you."

Lacey's face dropped as Sanemi huffed. "It's about time."

"You're really going to give him the kid?"

You turned to Lacey. "Their mom confirmed it just now." She opened her mouth- You pointed at her. "You know you're supposed to check the database before denying or confirming anyone who comes in here. We provide good customer service which means we check first. You know that from training."

"It's not my fault." She hissed at you. Before half nodding back towards the now much calmer man. "Have you seen him?"

"I have actually. What are you getting at?"

She looked at you like you were crazy. "uh-..Are you blind? He looks like he just got out of jail!" Sanemi's eyes shifted over. "By the way he acts, I wouldn't be surprised if he's done some crap too-"

"Lacey. Do me a favor. Shut up."

Her face blinked at your happy smiling one. "I-..What?"

"You heard me. Shut up. I don't care what you think, discriminating someone just because he has scars is as stupid as saying that someone is dumb because they're blonde. And if I hear that again I'm telling our manager. So why don't  you just get the broom and start sweeping the front like you're supposed to?"

She didn't say anything as you turned to leave- Blinking at Gyomei standing there still with the sleeping toddler in his arms and tilting his head down at you. However you only patted his arm with a smile and informed him that you were going to grab Koto's overnight bag before leaving to go grab it from the cubby closet. He stood there still before tilting his head at Sanemi and could guess the surprise that was plastered all over the other man's face right now. Staring wide eyed in silence. 

You returned a moment later with the bag Sanemi left with you and by then Gyomei was already handing him back his baby brother. Koto yawned half way woken up by the jostle however lit up when he saw his big brother.

"Nemi!" He tiredly reached out to him and tiredly curled up on his shoulder with a yawn.

"Here's his bag." You smiled handing him the duffle bag he just slumped over his shoulder with a blank look.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Sanemi, are you going home after this?"

Said white haired man looked at Gyomei with a frown. "My mom doesn't get off work for another three hours. Genya and Teiko can watch the other three for a little longer. I'm just gonna work on my project until my mom picks up Koto."

"In that case do you want to join us for dinner?" The loom Sanemi gave you was like if you just slapped him. "I'm making spaghetti tonight."

"Sketti!" Koto peeked up immediately turning around to you with a smile. "YUM!"

Sanemi continued to stare at you.. before he shook his head and turned. "No. Kanae's picking up something. I'll see ya round Gyomei."

You frowned at him. Was it something you said? Koto waved at you from his big brother's shoulder and you waved back until they left out the door. Well safe to say that was strange, but you supposed that since he's been going through a lot it wasn't that out of the ordinary. You also decided not to pry Gyomei for answers. That was between Sanemi and his family and partners so you'd respect that privacy. Although you couldn't say you weren't curious about it all.

Tuesday went by better. This time you got there early enough to be informed that Sanemi and Koto's mom called. Apparently Sanemi would be dropping off and picking up Koto for the foreseeable future until she became available and to put him down as an emergency contact in the daycare's registry. You remembered Mrs. Shinazugawa. She was a middle aged woman who was oddly small and always looked tired when she came in starting to drop off Koto as a baby three years ago. At the time you assumed that she was going back to college to earn a degree and that's why she was using Kimetsu University's daycare.

But finding out she was using Sanemi's status as a student for a discount on childcare was both a more believable answer and only more curious about it. But again you respected their boundaries and only tended to Koto and the other kids until it was time for his big brother to pick him up. You thought it was adorable. He'd get so excited and shout 'NEMI' every time he saw him regardless of just seeing him that morning. 

Each time he'd give you a strange look before just taking his brother and leaving. You were confused about the looks but they weren't angry looks just almost confused. He probably just was still getting used to Gyomei having a new girlfriend. You were still getting used to having a boyfriend yourself so it was understandable. Lacey continued to give him and you dirty looks..but hadn't done anything since Monday's fiasco so you didn't worry about her anymore. It wasn't until Thursday morning that your curiosity was finally sated. You forgot your lunch at home while fishing out to work one morning, so again you decided to stop by the campus cafe to grab a sandwich to eat later when you ran into two familiar faces. One was a woman with long black hair and pink eyes. The other was a tall man with white hair and red wine eyes. They were shuffling around the side of the register as people walked by. 

Hey. Wasn't that-

"Kanae?" Your voice asked before the woman turned her head around with a blink followed by the white haired man. "Tengen?"

On cue he smiled. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the future Mrs. Himejima." He winked sending you a finger gun making you chuckle. "What's cooking good looking?~"

You couldn't help but giggle at him. "I forgot my lunch at home so I was just grabbing a sandwich for later. What are you guys doing here?"

"Entering that raffle. Tomorrow's the last day you can enter."

"Oh. Planning on getting that paint set you mentioned if you win?"

Tengen frowned shaking his head. "Actually it's for-" He paused looking back to Kanae and jabbing a thumb to you. "Actually it's ok to tell 'er right? Or is that stepping over a boundary?" She looked at him then at you.. before nodding. "Alrighty then." Red eyes looked back to you. "It's actually for Sanemi."

You blinked. "What?"

"Well if any of us win that is. No guarantee that any of us will." He waved a hand. "But the more of us that enter, the better chances there are of us actually getting it."

"Why does Sanemi need it?" You didn't think he was anymore broke than you were.

"It's not exactly for him really. It's so his mom can pay off that debt faster." 

That's when it all clicked. The mentioning of Mrs. Shinazugawa struggling, Sanemi helping to take his brother to daycare, Gyomei's reluctance to talk about it- You almost didn't catch what Tengen said next with a distasteful bite to his voice.

"Ever since that asshole died, his family's been having nothing but a hard time."

"Let's not speak ill of the dead Uzui," Kanae lightly scolded him. "He's still Sanemi's father."

"Wasn't much of a father in the first place."

"Wait. His father passed away?" You went wide eyed at them when Kanae nodded.

"It was an accident. A hit and run driver ran him over when he was crossing the road at night-"

"Right as he was coming back from the casino." Kanae shot Tengen a scowl this time. "Oh come on, Kanae. Don't sugarcoat it. If we're gonna tell her might as well tell it how it is." He looked at you with a mad look. "The greedy rats ass was killed coming back all high strung from the casino. Good riddance I'd say but because his mom wasn't divorced yet from the deadbeat now she has to pay off his gambling debt! At least they didn't have to pay for the funeral."

You could only stare at him in shock. "That's awful. How much was it?"

"Seven thousand dollars." Tengen threw up his hands. "How do those debt collecting sharks expect her to just magically come up with that money?! She's already trying to raise like six other kids!"

"Seven thousand dollars?!"

That was a lot of money! If Mrs. Shinazugawa was already struggling then this would've put a lot of strain on her already. 

"A thousand dollars ain't much but it'd be a thousand dollars she doesn't have to pay. ...*sigh* Anyways you said you wanted to get a sandwich?"

"Uh.. Y-Yeah. I was."

You made sure to be extra nice to Sanemi after that and play with Koto when he asked, despite the confused looks Sanemi still gave you. He wasn't ever mean to you and after finding out about his family situation you didn't have any reasons to be mean back. Soon Thursday and Friday turned into Saturday morning and you FINALLY got a day off to yourself to finish up some real work.

"Are you sure you don't want to come join us at the park? I heard there's going to be a vendor that sells delicious homemade ice cream."

You smiled one shoulder holding up your phone to your ear as you continued to write down on a piece of paper. "Sorry, Mei. I'd love to but I have to get this report done before Monday and I already planned on cleaning my house today. Maybe tomorrow."

"I understand completely. I'll swing by later today to make sure you're not overwhelming yourself."

You smiled. If there was one thing that you already loved about your boyfriend is was how understanding of you he was. "Alright. Have fun on your date with Giyuu and Shinobu. I'm sure you'll have lots of fun."

With that out of the way you were able to get your project mostly done. Mostly because of a second phone call you got right in the middle of trying to finish up your health class report. Which honestly did annoy you a little bit. You wanted to get this done TODAY and then get all of your household chores done TODAY so you could have TOMORROW off with your boyfriend! It continued to ring so with a sigh you dropped your pencil to pick it up and hold to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Y/n L/n?"

"Yes. Who is this?" You frowned but soon that frown disappeared and your eyes widened. "Shut up. You're kidding? Wha- No! I'm not busy! I can come over right now and pick it up! Where?" You stood up quickly nearly knocking over the papers on your table as you ran to grab your shoes. "Dean's office! Right! Are you sure this isn't a prank call?....Ok! Im on my way right now! Holy cow this is unbelievable! Yeah! I'll see you soon! Bye!"

You squealed in utter astonished happiness as you ran to go grab your shoes! What should you do first?! Pay off your car? Get that pet ferret you always wanted? Maybe take Gyomei out for a really fancy dinner? The possibilities were endless! You happily skipped out of your house and ran down the road towards the academy. Running and running and running...

But slowly your running slowed.

And the giddy smile turned to a thin line.

And you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Staring at nothing in particular until you blinked and looking back to your house.

......

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

"Nemi, chill! You're gonna give yourself brain damage if you keep that up!"

Two small hands on his head stopped Sanemi in his pursuit of hitting his head against the table repeatedly. Only stopping so he didn't painfully smash Suma's fingers between his forehead and Tengen's table. Not like it'd do anyone good even if they stopped him. 

"I just found out Genya and Hiroshi got a part time job to help my mom pay bills and Teiko started babysitting for money." His head lifted up to glare angrily at nothing. "HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CALM?! THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO WORRY ABOUT BEING KIDS NOT HAVING TO HELP MY MOM PAY BILLS!! NOW TEIKO IS STUCK TRYING TO WATCH THE OTHERS AND OTHER BRATS AT OUR HOUSE AND MY BROTHERS ARE FLIPPING BURGERS AT A WACKDONALDS!!"

He ended his rant by slamming his fists on the table and letting veins bunch up in anger. Most people would flinch but considering how used to his anger they were, his girlfriend and Suma only looked on in growing concern than actual fear.

"Honey, it's not going to be forever." Kanae attempted to soothe her boyfriend with a gentle hand softly rubbing his back. A small kiss pressing to his cheek. "They promised you it's only going to be until that big debt bill is paid off, and you guys already paid off a good portion of it."

That seemed to calm him down somewhat as he ate least unclenched his teeth and relaxed back a little bit. "I know. I just don't want them to get it in their heads that they have to work at an early age! They should be worried about school and getting good grades not paying bills... Maybe I should drop out and get a full time job."

"WHAT?! NEMI, NO!!" Sum hopped from one foot to the other. "You came so far! And you'll graduate after next year!"

"She's right! You only have a year and a half more then you'll graduate. Your mom wouldn't want you to quit."

"Maybe that's not what she wants.." Body deflated. Head hung. "But that might be what she needs."

There was silence as both women stared at him then at each other in lost. He couldn't just quit. He worked so hard to get to where he was at, already sacrificing lots of things. If he did this now..then he'll regret it later. But with his family struggling as it was how could they ask him to change his mind? They would've continued to sit there in silence if there wasn't a loud knock on the door that had them all look up. Again there was silence before the knocking came again but a bit louder. After exchanging looks, Suma eventually stop up and went to go answer the door. Pulling it open, blinking...and then beaming into a smile.

"Y/N! Oh my gosh! Hi! What are you doing here!?"

"Hi, Suma. Is Sanemi here?" Said white haired man perked up hearing his name. "Gyomei told me I could find him here."

"Yeah! You wanna come in?"

"Can't. I have to go pay some bills and finish cleaning my house. But can you give him this for me? It's really important he gets it."

"Sure! I'll do that right now!"

"Thanks! You're a life saver!"

They were surprised when Suma closed the door a moment later before turning and revealing a large manilla envelope in her hand.

"The hell is that?"

She shrugged. "No idea. Y/n said it's for you. OOH!! Maybe it's the recipe for that ohagi you liked! Y'know she ones she made that weekend."

"Tch. That'd be one good thing outta this dam day."

He mumbled under his breath as Suma walked over to him and he just bluntly took it from her. Giving a look at the front and back before just tearing off the top and peeking inside. In an instant his face went from bored and annoyed to cartoony shocked in one second. Both girls watched his expression change rapidly, looked at one another, before Kanae just reached over to pull the opening up more to look inside and VERY quickly gained the same shocked expression.

"Oh my," was all she managed to say.

"What is it?! Tell me!"

"Money."

"What?!" Suma quickly joined the two gasping out. "HOLY COW!! LOOK AT THE ZEROS ON THAT CHECK!!"

Sanemi continued to stare at the envelope blankly until Kanae pried it from his hands to peer inside with a raised brow. "There's a card in here too." Holding it up, narrowed pink eyes were able to read it. "It's a gift card of some sort."

"Hey. Wasn't this stuff like...the prizes for that raffle or something?"

Again there was silence as a realization of what exactly was sitting in Kanae's hands washed over them all...until a loud scraping of a chair caused both ladies to jump as Sanemi abruptly stood up and just..stared at the table. Silently stirring something around in his head before both hands landed with a loud thud sound on the table. 

"Sanemi?" "Honey, are you ok?"

"I'll be damned...Kanae."

"Yes?"

"If Gyomei doesn't marry that woman we will."

[brbzonedout]

Miles comforts insecure reader

Pairing: E!42 Miles x Fem(tomboy)!Reader

Warnings: Body Imagine issues, catcalling?, Crying.

You stared at yourself in the mirror turning to see the pair of jeans at every possible angle.

“Ain’t no way,” you muttered to yourself.

The pair of snug fitting 2000s style jeans hugged your thighs and hips in a way that made it uncomfortable to stand let alone walk.

Eying yourself in the mirror you started to feel extremely insecure. Ever since you hit puberty you’ve been thick and developed faster than the other kids in your grade. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means it’s natural but for you it brought a lot of unwanted attention at such a young age and that carried well into your teenage years.

Earlier before you and Miles entered the store you both decided to stop for chick-fil-a. While in line an older guy maybe in his late 20s and his friend decided to take it apon himself to comment about how you looked in your school uniform. Commenting that you had quote on quote “anime thighs” and that he’d “Take that over a desk any day,” Miles wanted so badly to chew them out up held back after you said not to start anything.

Bring a shy person to begin with didn’t help much, so to cope with your feelings, you started wearing slightly baggier clothes. They gave you a sense of comfortability you hadn’t felt in a long time. On top of that the style was just cute in general.

But today while in the mall with your boyfriend he picked out the jeans for you. Was this him saying he didn’t like the type of clothes you wear now?

“You good in there?” Miles said from outside of the dressing room.

You jumped being startled out of your zoned out state.

“Y-yeah i’m cool…” you shouted back making sure he heard you.

You didn’t want to have to lie twice.

“Can I come in?”

“If you want…” you cringed at the way that came out, like you didn’t want him in there.

Miles slightly parted the curtain and slid in through the crack.

“If I want?” he said eying you up and down with a slight smile.

You shrugged.

Miles look up and met your eyes through the mirror before you broke eye contact causing him to start worrying.

“What you don’t like ‘em?”

You shrugged again lightly pulling at the material around your thighs.

“They’re nice…kind of tight-”

The boy put his slim fingers through your belt loops and pulled back lightly.

“Mm, yeah I guess- ain’t that the style though? Want me to go get a bigger size?”

“The style? You sound like your mom,” you forced a giggle at the boy honestly trying to change the subject.

He smiled at your comment and stuffed his hands in his pockets. But, his eyes glanced up at yours. Once you broke eye contact for the second time he knew something was wrong.

“So do you want a bigger size? They’re right out there.” The boy peeked through the curtain and squinted to see the available sizes, “I think the next size u-”

You cut him off, “Don’t we gotta find something for you too? Is it getting late?” You rambled and scrambled to find your phone to “check the time”.

“Baby….” he said flatly with a slight confused look on his face, “why are you avoiding my question?”

Eye brows furrowed trying your best to create a false confused expression, you turned around to face him.

“What question?”

“Seriously?”

“Miles-”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

With a slight pout you played with the hem of your white collard shirt, “I just don’t like the pants…”

“Ok? That’s fine we can look for more.” he shrugged.

You looked in the mirror once again noticing how the denim tightened around your hips…and thighs…and butt. The man’s voice played back in your head, “I’d take that over a desk any day,” it was too overwhelming. You just broke down.

In your relationship with Miles he had never seen anything trigger you this much and this fast.

Without hesitation he stepped forward and gently placed his hand on your arms to calm you down.

“Hol’ on hol’ on, chill i can’t understand you if you’re crying. Just relax ok?” said as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over your arm.

You took a deep breath in and wiped your tear stained cheek with the heel of you palm then nodded head.

“I don’t like how they look on me, and it just triggered me cuz of what happened earlier.”

Miles sat you both down on the dressing room floor listening intently making sure you understood he heard you.

“Then why’d you say you liked them?”

“I thought you would want me to get them? I don’t know. I just wanted to get out of here.”

He chuckled, “Since when do you care what I think about clothes?”

With a quick glance up you thought for a moment then laughed sniffling and wiping your tears once again. “Ok true, I don’t. I don’t know you just seemed to like them a lot.”

“Listen I don’t give a fuck what you wear I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable,” he leaned back against the dressing room wall, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I told you what to wear all the time.”

“A bad one.”

“A bad one,” he parroted you. “And what that bitch said earlier don’t matter he was ignorant and obviously gets no play talking about anime thighs. Looked almost 30 acting like a little bitch.”

You smiled slightly and nodded sitting up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an embrace.

“I’m sorry that was dramatic, breaking down out of nowhere.”

Miles hugged back and laid a quick peck on your cheek.

“Stop apologizing for dumb stuff, no offense. You were sad so you cried it’s normal, now come on we gotta go I don’t think i’m supposed to be in here.” he laughed and handed you the skirt you walked in with.

A smile came across your face as you took the clothes from him.

“Wanna get Cinnabon after this?” you asked unbuttoning the jeans.

“What kind of question is that? No duh I want Cinnabon!”

This is lowkey based on myself, this was really fun though. Exploring different emotions I feel like i’m getting slightly better. Thank you for reading!! Remember requests are open right now so don’t be shy!

[nthspecialll]

Hiii! I love all your character analysis posts and theories so much, and was wondering if you have done any theories about where the gang was before Blackwater, by chance? I think I saw a post recently mentioning Montana but I can't for the life of me remember if it was you who posted it or not! 😅

But I've wondered about their locations before RDR2 a lot and would love to hear your thoughts about it. I remember reading a very early page in Arthur's journal about how they were in the Northen Grizzlies? But apart from that I can't remember anything else about locations, if there were any mentioned. And I'm sorry if you have done a post like this already, it's just a little piece of the backstory I'd like to hear theories about 😊

I have not talked about it but I definetely can! Also thank you for liking my stuff!!

Well, firstly, some places that exist in real life does not exist in red dead and those are the places on the map. Texas is New Austin, New Orleans is Saint Denis and Luisiana is Lemoyne, meanwhile Californa and New York does exist in game, meaning we can't completely be sure what places exist unless they are directly mentioned.

Firstly, we know they have been in Chicago, that is where Dutch and Hosea met! Then in 1877 the pair went to Kettering, Ohio, where they scammed 300$ out of the residents, later that year we know that they met Arthur in the Northern states somewhere, which could also be Montana! We do not know more than it was someplace in the North.

We also know some time before they met Arthur, they went to Blackwater once but exactly when we do not know.

In 1885 we know they were in Illinois, saving and picking up John Marston and two years later they robbed their first bank Lee and Hoyt, which we do not know where is.

But between then and 1898, they robbed 36 banks across the frontier as stated by Ross in rdr1, which is where we get the famous "We were told there was a price when we reached 50." The wiki page of the VDL gang does say they came to Montana in 1898 but they won't give me source to confirm it, which is a little annoying, but just mentioning it.

We know at some point between 1893 and 1898, after Bill joining the gang, they went to Canada, him, Arthur and Uncle robbing a bank together.

We also know that for a while they would return to the same places for Arthur's romances. Both with Eliza, where he could pop by every few months and for Mary, whom they at least returned to after 1894 when Abigail joined, and before the deaths of Annabelle and Bessie.

Either way, now we come to the fun parts, around winter 1898, the gang was up in what is called the Northern Grizzles, we only have access to the western (Around Mount Hagen) and Eastern (O'Creagh's Run), so I would assume that the Northen are outside the map, probably up above the Wapiti Reservation somewhere.

They traveled down the "Western Foothill of the mountians", not sure what road they took as it could be one off map, which I would honestly guess, probably traveling around the cold of Colter and coming in from left side of the map. Either way, they most likely ended up somewhere down by and Big Valley, which can match up with the fact that Arthur mentions that life was good and food was easy to find. That area does have a lot of easy food access and so forth.

Now I have seen a few people say Dutch met Micah in Strawberry, which is honestly very fair assumption, it matches up with a lot, but a simple fact is forgotten, Strawberry does not have a bar, which is where they met.

I would say that Micah most likely had been in Strawb and done, whatever business he had with Slim and Martha (I believe their names were), and traveled up and out of map where he met Dutch and then decided to join them back down.

Afterwards they traveled down to Blackwater where they "hid in plain sight" right outside town as Arthur says he does not like being so close to the town, and considering how close they were to Valentine, I would guess they camped at the ledges where Charles and Javier hides when going to find Sean, either there or the other side of the town.

Blackwater Camp:

But even though they were camped so close to down, Arthur funnily enough still stayed in town from time to time. It does however not seem that they were settled there or in Big Valley for very long, as Arthur also says that they have been running more than normally those weeks.

Now we get to a bit that confuses me because suddenly the group goes from the southern part of the map down in Blackwater, to suddenly appearing up by Spider Grove by Colter, and Arthur mentions that they headed "east over the Grizzlies" so they went west from Blackwater, out of the map, and then up North only to go east again. Not to mention that it seems they did it in a fairly short time, they haven't had proper time to talk about what happened, they were still shook, Davey was not yet dead from a gut wound and Jenny was burried not far from where we first see the gang?

See that is a little confusing, but I hope that answers your question! I had a lot of fun answering it at least, rereading Arthur's journal and all.

[drill-teeth-art]

I have no idea how to ask but here goes…

How do you shape your characters and your designs so good??? The shapes of them are soo good! Big, slim, sharp, round, etc! They’re all so good, how do you design them so well??

I could write an entire book on character design and how it's changed over the years and how open ended it is and what I think are good principles and what commonly shared rules are honestly a bit too overly restricted because I'm crazy about character design but! Shape work. Let's stick to that for now.

Now of course for bodies and body types my number one recommendation is: For the love of god look at real people of different body types look at actual photos of fat people and skinny people with different bodies different distributions of their weight look at disabled bodies look at trans bodies look at people of all different races and draw them and learn PLEASE.

Additionally...

Here's a little design principle I like to work with that I find very helpful for spicing up my designs. I find the common character design advice of "simplify your design to ONE major shape motif! circles for friendly characters. squares for stubborn characters. and triangles for villains." to be overly restrictive. And of course the pros giving you that advice aren't trying to say you have to do every design in that framework every time. But they're not really going into detail on how you can use more shapes to add more layers and interest to your character design. Also tbh I think that the "circles for friendly characters and etc" piece of advice is stupid actually. You can easily make a villain character that is all circles and a hero that is all triangles. Plenty exist already in media.

I see a lot of people trying to diversify their body types fall into this trap of drawing all their fat characters with the same fat body type. And even if it is an accurate way fat distributes, it's still not representative of the diversity in fat bodies. Something that helped me (along with looking at references) was introducing secondary shapes. An additional shape motif. As you can see on Toxi here, he's mainly circles and round shapes. But I also added a crescent motif! To broaden his shoulders more and give a pointy and sharp edge to him.

Your primary shape for a fat character doesn't even need to be a circle. Tempos is square heavy with roundness as the supporting shape to emphasize how unassuming and soft he deliberately tries to look. And you can apply this to characters who are slimmer too. Conductus is composed of longer rectangles supported by triangles to emphasize its speed and electrical theme.

Viperos' major rounded shapes are supported by triangles to emphasize their flexibility and power. Gaz's square shapes are pushed with round shapes to make him look stronger and more agile. Mesmeris' crescent heavy design is supported with squares to help her look sturdy and imposing. And it's all about context too.

Squares can read as sturdy and trustworthy or rigid and intimidating. Circles can be soft and friendly or flexible and slippery. Triangles can be speed and cunning but also power and mystery. It's not about saying "circles are always friendly!". You can make villains who are round and imposing. It's more about "I want my character to come across as (blank)" and picking what major and minor shapes you want to use to support that. And (blank) shouldn't be just one word. "I want my character to come across as fast and agile while also being large and round" is a much more clear goal for your design than "I want my character to come across as fast".

And again as always please use references of real people too. You can study my art, and I highly encourage you to study the art of other artists you like and how they design characters. And I highly encourage you to get a solid foundation of "what different bodies look like irl" so you can also be respectful and accurate in your depictions. And remember that creativity doesn't occur in a vacuum. Please take the time to also sit down and watch movies or look at animals or read books or look at videos of machines working or whatever. Look at tons of media. Creative designs don't just spawn from my brain. Toxi's look is partially inspired by centipedes that crawl on ceilings I saw a video of. Viperos' look was inspired by snakes and also roadrunners. I was inspired by that Virus Ghost from Scooby Doo And The Cyberchase for Conductus' look. Please remember research is ALSO part of the design process. So I appreciate you asking me how I do things because asking questions is part of good research!

Anyway! Long ramble! Hope all this helps you in your design endeavors.

[violetsiren90]

The Lighthouse Keeper

~a What the Moon Saw drabble~

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends, angst

Summary: Life moves on. The moon blooms and wilts. The tide sinks away from the sands and returns with new waters. Yoongi stays.

Content warnings: PG rating, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; drinking and drunkenness (set in a cantina); cigarette smoking; Yoongi gets hit on; longing and pining; sad Yoongi 😔; some ogling of a female character by Hoseok; reference to the death of a minor character; allusions to domestic violence; allusions to semi-homelessness; allusions to casual sexual encounters; this is just pure angst, honestly.

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my WIP folder, and in the wee hours of the morning last week I sat in a hospital cafeteria with the shittiest cup of coffee I've ever tasted (that I was nonetheless grateful for) and finished it up. Poor, sweet Yoongi . These two are my comfort couple and coming back to them has a way of reminding me that "nobody knows how the story ends - live the day, do what you can."*

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

*"Nobody Knows", the Lumineers

"Alright, old buddy, what's got you down?" 

     A slim, dark-haired young man slid into the booth across from Yoongi. The older man's eyes softened slightly, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile as he regarded his companion over a swig of Pacifico.

     "Who says I'm down?" he asked in a mildly affronted tone, drawing a hand over his beer-slicked lips.

     The other man's mouth broke into a toothy smile, his lips pulling into a heart-shaped grin as he let out a boisterous peal of laughter.

     "You never call these days unless you are," he rejoined, grabbing a foggy acrylic standee from the center of the table and squinting at its small list of beverages. "Geez, they really don't have much of a selection here, do they?" 

     Yoongi snorted.

     "Since when are you an alcohol connoisseur? You don't even drink, Hoba."

     "I do too!"

     A waitress sidled up to their table and slid a food menu in front of Hoseok, who trailed wide eyes up her tattooed arm to her bright blue pixie cut with a thick swallow.

     "Our mango ahi tacos are on special tonight," she hummed with a wink.

     The young man's ears flushed a bright shade of crimson as he stammered something about passing on the food but wondering if they had any ciders. She pocketed her tongue in her cheek as she flicked her eyes to Yoongi.

     "You hungry?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow and tilting a hip clad in low-slung cargo pants and a studded belt in his direction. Yoongi looked up at her and shook his head, taking another sip of beer.

     "Hm, damn shame," she hummed, flicking her eyes over him a last time before sauntering back to the bar.

     Hoseok tracked her every move with a slack jaw, craning his neck to watch her slip through the kitchen door before turning his face - features, still frozen in lascivious astonishment - back to his friend.

     "Holy shit, hyung," he murmured, covering his mouth with both hands, "You could see her nipple piercings right through her shirt!"

     Yoongi grunted in assent, trailing a cloudy gaze over the table's waxy surface as he picked at the bottle's damp label.

     "You gonna get her number?"

     "What?" Yoongi shifted in his seat, eyes refocusing on his friend.

     Hoseok sighed.

     "Nope, you're not. How long's it been, hyung?"

     Yoongi glanced down at his beer again, then raised it to his lips and drained the bottle.

     Jung Hoseok had met Yoongi the summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school. He had attached himself instantly to the older boy, an unusual experience for Yoongi, who was used to people as sunny as Hoseok steering clear of his little storm cloud. He was one of the few friends from those days that Yoongi still called up, on occasion. One of the few who knew the context of his life - the sandy paths on which he'd come of age...what he'd found there, and what he'd lost.

    "Don't, Hoba," Yoongi murmured lowly, his voice suddenly thick in his throat. 

    Hoseok hummed, lips pulled into a thin line. The waitress returned with a hard cider, a Pacifico, and a plate of nachos they hadn't ordered. While Hoseok changed shades like a chameleon on a tomato and attempted to stammer his thanks, Yoongi cast his eyes out the window.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, the gulls pushing their yellow legs from weathered wooden perches to soar beyond the edge of the pier and into the little golden space between the fading light and sparkling waters. The sandy beach stretched around the edge of a rising rockface, dappled with lush green ice plant and yellow sea asters, a few miles to the north. Around the other side of the stony promontory was a place Yoongi knew well. The shore there drew inward and curved into another swell of land as the cliff rose; near its highest stretch an old wooden stairway weaving down its face.

     Tucked away to the side of those stairs was a ledge - a few meters wide and about as deep - that jutted out as the cliff sloped down to its base. It was smooth and fairly even, nearly level with the closest steps; a perfect little hideaway barely visible from above or below. Perfect for two children to sit, huddled against the rock, as they whispered their dreams and fears; for a boy and a girl to hold each other through nights that couldn't be spent at homes far less warm and gentle than each other's arms; for a young man and woman to give themselves to one another at last and too late.

    It was where Yoongi had sat utterly broken, on the last morning of a summer ten years past, his head tilted back against the stone as he wept up to the sky, praying to any god that would listen that you would run fast and run far - that you would finally spread full your beautiful wings...that you would forget him.

    But Yoongi never forgot you. Not one word that you spoke, not one touch of your gentle fingers or your soft lips.

     He had left the ledge that day, but he had carried you with him - down the beach and back into the horrid little shack where three nights later Yoongi's father hit him for the very last time. Yoongi had carried you with him to the doorstep, as he threw the man out into the dirt. Then he had carried you with him to every couch and car and dingy apartment that served as a night's shelter until he had saved up enough for a little place of his own; had carried you around with the tools and lumber as he spent long, hot days building the tiny workshop beside it. And he had carried you, on a some miserable nights, into the beds of strangers - who, through no fault of their own, could never ever compare.

    "My dad died," Yoongi said drawing his eyes away from the window. He said it with a quiet simplicity that he seemed to embody more and more with age.

    Hoseok looked up from the plate of nachos, mouth full. He looked as if he were sorry, but didn't want to say that. Instead he got up and slid onto Yoongi's bench of the booth, gently shoving the older man over to stay flush with his side. Yoongi wouldn't usually tolerate that sort of closeness, but with Hoseok it was different. Hoseok knew.

    "How's your mom?" he asked softly.

    Yoongi nodded.

    "She's okay. She's taking it better than me, actually. Already talking about leaving."

    "Are you going to?"

"What?"

    "Leave?"

    Hoseok's voice sounded hopeful. Yoongi's right hand slipped instinctively into his jacket pocket, slender fingers curling around a little whittling knife with a pink heart painted on its handle. 

    "I don't think so, Hoba."

    The younger man sighed through his nose. He was quiet for a long moment before turning to his friend.

    "I got an offer from a high school down south. VP. I start there in the fall."

    Yoongi raised his gaze, his small smile affectionate and his eyes soft. He wouldn't let the sadness reach them - he'd learned how to push it away.

    "They'll be lucky to have you," he murmured sincerely.

    Yoongi was used to people moving on. Everyone did...everyone but him. While the world turned, Yoongi stayed.

    "Someday, you need to leave, hyung,” Hoseok urged him quietly. “She's out there somewhere living her life. She'd want you to live yours too."

    At the mention of you, Yoongi felt his heart squeeze and ten years of carrying your memory well up and into his throat.

    Hoseok clapped a hand onto Yoongi's back, and raised the cider to his lips.

Hoseok knew, but he didn’t understand. No one ever really seemed to.

    As the cantina closed its door for the night, Yoongi ushered a stumbling Hoseok into the back of a cab. 

    "You're nah coming?" the younger man slurred as Yoongi stood and moved to shut the door. 

    He shook his head.

    "Gonna walk. Goodnight, Hoba," Yoongi gave his friend a little endeared crook of his mouth before closing the cab door and tapping the back of the car as it rolled away from the pier.

    Pulling a pack of Marlboros from his pocket, he watched the cab's red taillights fade into the evening blue. Yoongi lit a cigarette and turned to walk the path that wove along the edge of the cliffs. While he walked he wondered about you. He wondered if you were safe, if you smiled and laughed. He wondered if there was someone who made your eyes sparkle and your smile shy, someone with whom you could share your joys and sorrows. Yoongi wondered if you had found a home.

      The moon had risen to meet the stars when he reached the little stairway. He gingerly descended its rungs - neglected of repair and worn with their years - until he reached it, the little ledge in the moonlight. He stepped onto its smooth surface, the lower half of the rickety railing long fallen away, and sinking down he closed his eyes.

    The full bright moon washed over him, and for a moment, Yoongi felt it understood. It had seen, after all.

It had seen the boy and the girl and what they had become for each other. It had seen you give Yoongi a home, and it had watched him, in return, teach you to fly - to fly far away.

But Yoongi carried you with him. After all, you were his home, where else would he go? As the wind whipped up off the sea and swept around him, whispering of another summer's end, the moon watched Yoongi stay another season. And if it could have seen his heart, it would have watched him go to its little window, and, as the darkness fell, light a lamp to shine out across the sea.

The moon heard Yoongi pray that you'd never return.

…It saw him stay on the chance that you might.

-Fin-

[miss---lu]

Sugar

You are a victor from district nine. You won the 60th hunger games and now you bake luxurious pastries for the capital. Even though you’re sweet as sugar you end up falling for the district twelve drunk

This is going to be a little series.

You were closing up your family’s bakery. You went to wipe the tables and lock up the shop. You slipped your keys into your pocket as you went to go change into your clothes for the reaping.

It was the day to find the tributes for the 74th hunger games and you would be a mentor this year so you had to be there. You were the last person to win from your district so each reaping left you feeling sad. You knew the chances of you bringing home a victor were slim.

Either way you had to be there. You made your way to the side of the stage where mentors where supposed to wait. You smoothed out your dress as you tried to put on a cheerful smile.

You were a darling to the capitol. Ever since you won your game 14 years ago, the capitol people loved you. You won your games by being a sweet fifteen year old girl who people just wanted to protect. You used to be a darling little thing, but after the games your heart hardened.

It didn’t matter though, after all you had to continue playing the part. After 14 years it was pretty convincing.

Part of the way you coped with your issues was working in your family’s bakery. You worked there before you were reaped but now you were the head baker. It honestly let you blow off steam in a way that would bring harm to your family.

Since you were a victor, your business boomed. Now you provided baker goods for your district and people in the capitol. You would make cookies and tarted for their parties and wedding cakes with dozens of layers. They were always over the top but it wasn’t a bad way to spend time.

You were brought out of your train of thought and saw the female tribute being reaped. She appeared to be only fourteen. She was small and didn’t look that strong. The boy tribute wasn’t much better. He appeared to be five foot and was very scrawny.

Chances weren’t good this year. It honestly broke your heart. You knew neither one of them had a chance of winning.

You still forced a smile on your face since you knew cameras were pointed at you. As everyone was dismissed you headed back towards your bakery to pick up the crates you would be taking to the capitol. Every year after the reapings, President Snow would throw a party for the sponsors. It was when betting officially started and sponsors would spend the night drinking and eating expensive food.

The parties disgusted you, but you always got a generous amount of money from them which significantly helped your district. You would always bring back the payment and distribute it to the poor families in your district.

Your brothers and father where weighting in the bakery each carrying crates filled with baked goods. They helped you move stuff to the train and then you were on your way.

. . .

The train ride there was slow and depressing. Both kids seemed to know that they didn’t have great chances. You tried to boost their spirits and give advice, but it didn’t help much. Still you promised to try and get them sponsors.

You sent them off with the male mentor and went to sign off for the pastries. A capitol man was trying to flirt with you as you unloaded the crates.

He had an unnatural yellow skin color and vibrant orange hair. Capitol fashion could be very weird sometimes. He honestly rubbed you the wrong way but you didn’t see any escape.

You left the crates for the servants to organize into their formations but the yellow man didn’t seem to want you to leave. He took a step towards you and you felt your stomach start to turn queasy.

As you prepared yourself for him to lean in you heard a voice cut in: “Sorry Cassius, but Y/N is needed for a mentors meeting.”

Haymitch.

He shot you a charming smile as the guy, apparently named Cassius, pulled away. Your heart melted a little as he offered you his hand. He quickly pulled you away and waved towards the yellow skinned man.

“Hey Sugar, did you miss me?”

You giggled as Haymitch placed a kiss on your palm. To the capitol people he was a drunk, but to you he was charming as ever.

You nodded as he continued to pull you with him. He quietly pulled you into the elevator with him and you crashed into his chest.

“No need to fall for me Sugar.”

His eyes twinkled with a little bit of mischief as you laughed. He reached around you and pushed the button for the twelfth floor (his floor).

He wiggled his eyebrows as he wrapped his arms around you. You loved seeing this side of Haymitch. As the door binged open you heard a woman scoff.

It was Effie. You didn’t take it personally, after all it was her job to make sure her tributes and their mentor were presentable and Haymitch usually wasn��t. She tsked at the display of affection but she still gave you a smile.

Effie did love you. After all you spent a lot of time with Haymitch and whenever you were around he would stop drinking. She also loved your baked goods and whenever she placed an order you always made sure she received them.

Speaking of which, you took off the purse from around your shoulder and opened it. Inside where about a dozen cupcakes. You gave Effie one and she smiled. It was buttercream frosting with an extravagant rose on top.

You set two down on the table for Cinna and Portia. And two more for Haymitch’s tributes. Then you turned and gave Haymitch his cupcake.

He gladly took a bite then gave you a kiss. You could taste the frosting on his lips.

“Thanks Sugar. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey I saw you have a titanium ankle - how does having that kind of implant feel? Obviously not the same thing but my dad's getting a hip replacement soon and I wanna know more beforehand

In my case it's a bit different, if I understand hip replacements correctly - rather than anything being replaced, I got... bolt-ons. Literally.

(Basically, to keep a boring story short, when I was 24 I walked down some stairs, an act I have performed my whole life without incident. This, I suspect, was the problem. I forgot to Respect The Stairs. So one moment I was moving smoothly and one might say procedurally downwards from one step to the next using both feet in an alternating fashion (that being the style at the time), and then the next I was falling.

And I caught the bannister! I went maybe three steps at most. But unfortunately, when I tried using my right foot in my usual manner (i.e. to support my body's weight in an upright position), I apparently placed it sort of... on its side? With the sole of my foot angled outwards to the right rather than directly down.

So when my weight came down I literally snapped my foot off. Those are not my words, you understand. Those were the words of the medical professional who looked at my x-rays, closely followed by "Your skin is holding it on.")

Anyway it took three operations over two weeks to bolt it back on, so what I have is an extensive and beautiful Mechano-like construct made of plates and screws holding the bones together. I have naturally slim ankles, so if you pay attention you can see that one is a bit wider than the other now (which does affect boots); also I can feel the edge of one of the plates if I press with my fingers.

But actually other than that, there's no difference. I can't feel a weight difference at all. I can't point that foot as well as the other, but that's the injury rather than the plates. The doctors at the time told me I could eventually have them removed if I wanted, but only after five years; but honestly, I haven't been affected enough to care. It's actually a stronger ankle now than the bio-one, so eh.

Also I did try magnets. Didn't take, titanium is not magnetic.

OH - it also doesn't get picked up by those walk-through airport metal detectors, but it does if they have to use the wand on you, because that's more powerful. I imagine that will be the same for your Dad. So it shouldn't affect travel or what have you.

In any case, I hope any of that was helpful, and good luck to your Dad! They're supposed to be magical things, hip replacements, so fingers crossed he gets his smoothly and without complications.

[bugs1nmybrain]

Aizawa NSFW Headcanons

Minors Don’t Interact. If you’re under 18, take a walk!

Warnings: NSFW 18+, fem-reader, pretty vanilla, some of these headcanons aren’t exactly nsfw, daddy kink

Aizawa pretty much doms always. He can get a little lazy and will definitely let you ride on top of him or give him head, but he’s always the one that takes the lead

He can get rough at your request or if he’s pent up. He’s not like this always, though.

His pace isn’t slow though, it’s always at a beautiful rhythm and hits your g-spot perfectly

Aizawa lost his virginity in his early 20s. He lost it to a partner of a long-term relationship that he’s no longer in 

His dick is big. He’s about 6 and a half inches long and girthy. He wears those baggy sweatpants for a reason. 

He’s aware that he has that paternal vibe to him, and isn’t entirely against a daddy kink, but he doesn’t like overkill of it. It makes him feel uncomfortable if overused. 

This isn’t related to sex, but Aizawa occasionally smokes weed. It’s not everyday, but when he has time off he’ll smoke to ease stress and also loosen his muscles up. It also helps his PTSD

Actually, to make it about sex, sometimes Aizawa gets horny when he’s stoned

Has had sex in alleyways before, but he doesn’t like doing it that much. He did it more when he was younger, but he’s grown more domestic over the years.

Always uses a condom, unless you’re on some form of birth control or have an IUD

Even then though, he prefers to cum on your stomach or back because he doesn’t want to risk pregnancy

He may be open to kids at some point but it’ll be a while. He has plenty to take care of already, he needs adult time. 

He hasn’t had a large number of sexual partners. Maybe 5 people in total. 

Honestly, he’s not too interested in sex if he’s not in a relationship. He sees it as unimportant at best

He also doesn’t masturbate very often

He’s actually very vanilla, to be honest. He doesn’t have many fetishes or kinks. He does enjoy bondage (you receiving) and edging. Again, he’s not exactly against the daddy kink. 

Shouta can control his volume during sex, but if you tell him that you like hearing him make noise, he’ll let groans and deep breaths out

Isn’t circumcised

Doesn’t shave

Enjoys blowjobs a lot, but he knows that he’s big (he’s humble about it) and doesn’t expect you to choke yourself on his cock (unless you want to).

His favorite positions are pretty standard: cowgirl, missionary, doggy 

Aizawa isn’t picky about body types, but he’s a little bit of a chubby chaser. He loves ladies with full, curvy figures and soft tummies for him to sleep on.

He does like slim girls as well though!

Aizawa doesn’t identify with a label, but he’s probably demisexual and bi if he had to pick 

He’s pretty cuddly, actually

He’ll allow you to blabber to him when you wake up on a weekend morning and are resting in bed. But he’s probably not fully listening

Loves makeup sessions, but it’s SO hard to initiate them with him. He doesn’t initiate them, at least not in a flashy way. They’ll typically start from cuddling session.

Enjoys taking showers with you, whether they get sexual or not. Sometimes just feeling your skin pressed on his feels comforting and helps with bonding between you two. 

Shower sex sucks though because positions are weird

Especially if you’re short

He’s great at eating your pussy. He works sort of slowly but he knows how to get your blood flowing with just the right pressure from his lips and tongue.

Loves seeing you in cute clothes. Skirts and leggings and pumps are some of his favorites to see on you.

Doesn’t like schoolgirl-looking clothes, though. It makes him uncomfortable and reminds him of his students, which isn’t a nice thought.

Not exactly NSFW, but he feels so awkward saying “I love you”, because of course he loves you, but it feels forced at certain points.

It’s not often, but he does say it during moments where you’re bonding in a mundane environment. 

He loves spending time with you, but unfortunately, his two jobs get in between you two having an abundance of it. He tries to leave the weekends flexible because he does appreciate the time you spend together

He prefers stay-in dates doing pretty much anything you want to do. He’s open to activities, as long as it isn’t ridiculous or annoying. 

He can last a long time. Sometimes he can’t finish very fast, even. 

Isn’t incapable of dirty talk. He can be really teasy sometimes and knows the right things to say to make you feel horny.

[dangermousie]

Various things none of which deserve their own post.

1. This short drama drops today and I can’t wait! Honestly short dramas are where it’s at lately:

2. Speaking of short dramas, I finished Lovesickess and Rise from the Ashes - the former was a gender swapped Ancient Love Song with a happy ending (tho not as good) and I truly truly enjoyed it - it would have made a great proper drama circa 2010. Our protag accidentally time travels to the past and meets and falls in love with the powerful 28 year old Duke who seems to know her. When things end as badly as they can, she attempts to travel back to save him but now she meets 21 year old him and when that ends, her last attempt is to meet him for a small bit of time when he’s 7. (She has no control of where in the timeline it ends up.) Unlike ALS, they do give them a happy ending, despite the gloriously emo line from his tomb letter to the effect of “I was running towards loving you and you were running towards losing me” (paraphrase.)

Ashes was total insanity in the best way, like The Double on speed, where our FL after being murdered by her husband in conjunction with her half sister, transmigrates to her younger self and sets out to revenge. She’s ably assisted by the ML who has his own grudges against the bad guys and who the OTP decide pass as her uncle - and all the other characters buy it. One of the most deliciously demented parts of this drama is that for a large chunk of it various characters believe an uncle and niece are having an affair (because the OTP ain’t subtle) and either try to use that to bring them down or, like FL’s slimy father and husband, go “oh well, it would be more scandal if this came out, gonna ignore.”

Between all the stuff in these two dramas, if they were regular dramas, censors would probably spontaneously combust.

3. Dashing Youth continues to be great. There are all those hijinks but they have a seriously seriously dark undertone - like the scene where BDJ’s master dies and he loses it and BDJ’s doting grandpa comments matter of factly to the dad that now the kid has seen the true face of jianghu - it’s not chivalry or friendship or glamor but this (death and loss.)

4. Olympics are coming which means slim pickings for dramas for a few weeks. Not being much of a sports fan, I am just happy I have a long reading backlog.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I have this Carmy request if it’s okay hehe

Carmy x fem!reader where she’s new to Chicago and desperately needs a job, she’s newly pregnant (her bf having run off the minute she told him she was pregnant), so she walks into a new upcoming restaurant for a job, The Bear. She’s rambling and apologizing as she shows Carmy her résumé because she has no experience in the food industry (she was an elementary teacher for a couple years before), but also telling him she really needs a job because she’s alone with a baby on the way. He really wants to help her, so he hires her either as a hostess or an assistant (he didn’t want her in the kitchen just for safety reasons (her being pregnant), and because she doesn’t have experience in the kitchen). Anyways, The Bear staff embrace her like she’s family, always looking out for her, Tina mothering her, Syd becoming her best friend, Marcus making sweets whenever she’s craving it, even Richie being super soft with her, but Carmy especially gets REALLY close with her, like to the point where he’s driving her to and from work (b/c she doesn’t have a car), he’s taking her to her prenatal appointments, letting her take breaks in his office (her napping on his couch), him even being there for the birth of her daughter because she doesn’t want to be alone, etc…

Also The Bear staff throwing a baby shower for Y/n🥺 Her showing up at work and being surprised to it🤧🤧 Y/n definitely crying into Carmy’s chest🤧

Anyways, they officially start dating close to the end of her pregnancy, and honestly they both fall head over heals 🤧

Y/n’s daughter’s first word being directed at Carmy… “Dada”😭 Carmy melting😭😭

ℳℴ𝓇ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔

stop this is so cute.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your chances of finding a place to work were slim to none- you tried everywhere, the Walmart, Walgreens, even the random corner store. But because you were pregnant, they wouldn’t hurt you.

Of course your asshole of an ex boyfriend ran away the second he heard you were pregnant, while you cried and begged for him to stay. But you could get through on your own- you know you could.

You opened up the doors, a man conversing with a woman behind the counter. They both turned to the door upon hearing the bell ring.

“Hello..” you said, with a small wave, walking towards them.

“Hey, uh, sorry, but we’re actually renovating right now.. in case you missed the sign-“ the man started, but you handed him your résumé, and he stopped talking as he glanced over the words.

“I’m actually here for the job.” You said.

“Okay.. do you have any… actual cooking skills?” He said, picking up the paper and glancing at you, one hand was running through his hair.

“No. But I really need this job- any job. I’m.. pregnant, and my ex left me, and I’m about to be a single mother so-“ you said with an anxious laugh, “every other place rejected me, I swear I-“

Sydney’s eyes widened as she heard you talking, she felt bad. And so did Carmy as he nodded while listening to you, the paper on the counter.

“It says you were a teacher before..?” He pointed to the paper once you had stopped your rambling.

You nodded, “Yes. I’m very good with math, science, or anything really.”

He thought for a moment. Sydney spoke and interrupted the silence.

“Chef, can I talk to you for a second in the kitchen?” She said, he looked at her and nodded.

“Stay here, please.” He said to you, turning around and following Sydney.

“What’s up?”

“I think we should hire her.”

“I don’t wanna kick her out and leave her on the streets. But what could she be?” Carmy said.

“An assistant or something.” She shrugged.

“That could work..” he said, picturing it. He nodded and opened the doors again.

“Would you wanna be an assistant?” He asked you, your eyes lit up and you quickly nodded.

“Please.”

“You’re hired.” He said, and he felt like he did the right thing when you smiled, thanking him multiple times.

You were perfect with the rest of the family, they all loved you. Even Richie did.

Carmy had especially grown close to you and your child, so close that every day your daughter saw him, she ran up and hugged his legs with a giant smile.

He had taken you to doctor appointments, and he had made you any cravings you had when pregnant. It was close to the end when you both started dating.

He was there when you gave birth, holding your hand and helping you through it all. He loved your daughter and you more than anything else.

You smiled as you entered the bear, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as you saw him. You kissed him, getting lost in it until your daughter started babbling.

You laughed as you both pulled away, you picked her up, and handed her to Carmy.

“Hey!!” He said in that sweet baby voice that you loved, it was adorable. He looked at her with a smile and tan a hand through her hair, moving it from her face.

“Addy.” She said, and you both looked at each other for a second and back to her.

“Is she trying to say…” you started.

“I think so.”

“Who’s that, baby? Is that daddy?” You spoke to her.

“Daddy.” She said. His eyes widened, as he smiled and laughed at her. You laughed with joy as well.

“Holy…”

“Awww!” You said, he smiled and gave her a small kiss on her forehead. His heart melted when she said that, he was overjoyed.