#except now i'm knitting as well

[neilsbeloved]

…in today’s torch exclusive !

summary: yeah… trying to get an exclusive interview from his girlfriend? doesn’t really end well when both of you have been kept apart for so long (or short, either way, you two can never get enough).

pairing: clark kent x student body president!reader

warnings: mature / ass grabbing (f) / clark and the reader are Horny ppl (they match each other’s freaks) / rough make out / gets caught (kinda) / lap straddling goodness / grumpy and sassy clark / misuse of torch office / legally aged students !!!!! / boners

a/n: will probably be continuing this clark kent x student body president/officer dynamic until my death bed (/hj). feel free to send asks btw!

divider from @uzmacchiato !

"Clark!" You hiss, taking multiple steps back until the back of your thighs hit the edge of the table.

Clark makes a sound somewhat similar to that of a growl. He keeps his hands on either side of your body, keeping you from tripping on your feet. He ignores your hiss, continuing his attacks from your jaw to the column of your neck to your collarbones.

The soft breaths that leave your mouth every time he sucks on that sweet spot is like music to his ears, urging him to do even more—hands massaging your sides with a delicateness that contradicts how big and manly they were. Your eyes roll back when you feel his teeth graze over that spot again, lips falling open as Clark hoists you up on the desk.

He spreads your thighs with a single jerk of his knee, slotting himself between your legs. He pulls away briefly, letting a smile come on his face before he begins peppering the edges of your mouth with chaste kisses again. Placing one on every side except your actual lips.

"We shouldn't—" Clark's lips dart up to yours, swallowing your weightless protests as he explores your mouth hungrily. Your arms rest on the back of his neck, hands pulling at the roots of his hair making him groan.

You open your eyes to glare at him, eyebrows knitting in a stern manner. "Clark."

He looks at you lazily, "Mhm, I'm busy."

Clark doesn't give you much choice as raises one hand to tilt your chin up, locking his lips with yours. He wasted no time swiping his tongue on your bottom lip, slipping the wet muscle inside once more as he registers that familiar sugary taste, pretty much telling him what you did right before you came to the Torch office.

You lose yourself on him, the logical side of your brain being put on hold as you leave yourself defenseless in his hands. Letting him explore each and every inch of your mouth like it was something he needed to do.

And in some way, some twisted way in Clark's mind, he really needed to.

Hours of being stuck to the sidelines because of the extra tasks you pick up from those wretched and useless council members that can't seem to do their job has him almost going insane. One more second of not having you in his arms might do the trick though, that's why he's not even thinking of doing that right now.

Nope, not even close.

"Clark," you gasp, finally managing to pull him off of you. Your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath while Clark stares at you impatiently, lips swollen and cheeks flushed light crimson. "My exclusive, remember? Chloe's gonna kill you if you don't get her data."

"Chloe's busy with her Daily Planet column, baby. I'm sure she can wait until we're done," Clark responds, jerking his eyebrows. 

You narrow your eyes at him, Clark, however, smiles at you. One he usually does when he wants something from you, or when he did something he probably shouldn't have—either way, you already know you're done for the moment you see that smile.

"Please?" Clark says, nudging at your waist. "It'll be quick."

You swallow down on nothing. The way Clark looks at you like he's hurting inside, voice aching with need, desperately wanting to be closer.

He urges you even more. "Chloe's not coming back for an hour, we have the whole office to ourselves. We can do the interview in five minutes tops." 

"What's gotten you so needy?" You ask out lightheartedly, planting your arms on your hips.

Clark rolls his eyes, nuzzling his face on the side of your head, inhaling in your scent. "Can't I just miss my girlfriend?" When you don't respond, not even to his wet neck kisses, he sighs. "Okay, fine. You've been spending way too much time doing work that's not even your responsibility. We never have enough time to play around."

You're unable to stop the snort that leaves your lips at his terminology. Play around. The phrase itself is innocent, but when it comes from your boyfriend?

It's basically porn.

He pulls away from you, glaring at you with seriously? written all over his features. His sudden grumpiness overpowering that bright and approachable presence he always has.

"You are such a big baby," you finally give up, pulling him close. Letting your arms wrap around his broad shoulders as you give him a kiss on his pouty lips. A victorious smile quickly stretching across his face.

However, before the two of you can escalate things further, a loud rattling sound comes from the door.

Clark inhales, frustratedly pulling away in record time as he looks at anywhere but you. All the while you hastily hopped off the desk and sat on one of the swivel chairs, crossing your legs in a formal manner while also fixing your hair.

"Sorry! I forgot my pens," Chloe says apologetically. "How's the interview going, by the way?" She says as she rushes over to her table, rummaging through the cabinets.

You give her the best smile you can give, ignoring the way Clark rolled his eye, walking behind her. "It's going really well."

"Perfectly well," Clark supports, voice awfully monotonous.

She finally finds the pen case she's been looking for, happily holding it up for you and Clark to see. "Found it."

Clark smiles sarcastically. Chloe's eyebrows furrows as she looks at him confusedly.

When Chloe turns her back to face Clark, you glare at the man, nostrils flaring.

"I'll leave you two to it," Chloe announces, "Make sure you finish all the questions, okay Clark? And don't forget to record it. Send the file to me afterwards, okay?" She lists them out with a firm tone, shoving the case in her beaded sling bag.

Clark nods, holding the door open for her. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

Chloe leaves the room with a loud thanks! directed to you. Clark closing the door shut before clicking the lock, letting out an exasperated sigh as he walks over to you.

"Chloe has the best timings, did you know that?" You throw the question at Clark, who gives you the same sarcastic glare he gave to Chloe.

Clark slumps down on the desk you previously sat on not before snatching the small recorder and piece of paper on Chloe's table. He grunts, pressing a button on the device, eyes going over the questions.

You watched him with amusement, slowly inching your chair closer to him.

"What can you say about the recent incidents about students criticizing the alleged theme for the Winter Formal? Why is the council letting the students get away with disrespecting and insulting the efforts of their fellow students?" Clark pulls his lips into a straight line, his cheeks puffing out as he looks at you expectantly.

You answer instantly, "For the first question, I have nothing to say. I believe the keyword there is alleged, it's only the alleged theme and not the actual one. However, we'll take note not to ever use that theme. Ever."

"And secondly, I assure you that the council is not letting student get away with their improper behavior. Proper documentations are being done, and cases are being made to properly deal with these students that continue to insult and disrespect the efforts of others."

The questions barely took any effort to answer. Clark found that very hot. Even more so because of the confident look you had on your face, something you always do when you go into your upright-student-body-president-mode.

You stood up from your seat, taking one step to your boyfriend before you moved your face close to his. Your hand discreetly going over the recording device to press the stop button.

Your lips ghost his jaw, moving across the smooth skin of his face as you began nipping on his spots.

Clark's deep breaths slowly turned into low and guttural groans, your hand resting itself on his firm chest as it slowly moved downwards.

You suck on the skin of his neck, putting some light pressure with your teeth before licking the spot. Staring up at him through your lashes as your hand finally reaches just below his belly button.

Clark grabs your wrist with his hand, glaring at you with dark eyes before he pulls you to him with no effort. Adjusting himself on the desk so he can have you straddling his lap, waist at the perfect height for him to rest his hands on.

The two of you wasted no time. As soon as you got comfortable on his lap, arms on the back of his neck, both of your lips connected in a heat-searing kiss. Your bodies pressed together like they'd be separated in a moment.

You feel heat burn in your chest as Clark swiped his tongue on your lips, parting them ever so slightly before he thrusted his tongue into your mouth. Exploring it with a new found fervor, even more hungrier than before.

His hands move down your waist to your ass, giving both cheeks a tender squeeze as he pushes you towards him, as if the two of you aren't already pressed into each other's bodies. You feel a low moan slip from your mouth, Clark responding to it with a groan of his own.

Time seemed to be irrelevant to the moment as both of you completely lost yourselves. The recorder long forgotten, the paper filled with questions now thrown somewhere in the office.

What matters right then was the two of you. Only the two of you.

When you thought it'd continue just like that, it doesn't. Not when the door's rattling again. This time even harsher than before.

You pull away from Clark, slowly peeling your eyes open as you met his, just as blown-out. The outer part of his lips now shining with the remnants of your lip gloss.

"I'm getting the truck," Clark says, jaw clenched, one arm wrapped around your waist to gently let you down from the desk.

"I'll wait for you at the gate." You breathe out, smiling as you wipe his mouth with the handkerchief you had on your back pocket. Something primal flicking across his eyes that had him sucking his teeth.

You compose yourself, grabbing the recorder and piece of paper on the ground and shoving them inside your bag. You watch as Clark walks to the door in strained steps, slowly noticing the way his jeans tightened around his pelvis. He fixes his plaid longsleeve, making sure it goes past said area.

When he opens the door, Pete appears.

"Hey, Chloe asked me to get her recorder—why's the door locked?"

You and Clark share a look, one that says a lot.

He clears his throat, turning to Pete with a smile so casual no one would have guessed what was happening just seconds before.

"Chloe probably locked it on her way out."

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

[alchemistc]

everything you want is on the other side

Buck slides a beer Tommy's way and fights the urge to duck his head. "So, I just thought, maybe, if you wanted to, we could -."

"I'm seeing someone," Tommy says, and blinks, and stares at the label of his bottle.

"Oh," Buck says, and shoves the hurt down deep where it won't inconvenience anyone. That's - it's been - been longer than they were ever together, hasn't it? And, yeah, after that comment in the helicopter maybe Buck had had this expectation that Tommy would wait for him, but that wasn't fair to assume, was it? It's - they're - "I... I'm happy for you."

Tommy gives him a strange look.

"We - is friends an option on the table though? Like, is your ex being around going to screw that up for you?"

Tommy snorts, derisively, and Buck thinks - okay then.

He'd avoided Buck plenty well before, so Buck doesn't really know why he'd have agreed to come out for drinks with him if that wasn't in the table. Maybe this is just - a clean break. They never really got there, until now.

There'd been a sunny afternoon, a few months in, where Tommy had taken him out to a stretch of beach and tossed a football back and forth with him for an hour, the both of them getting progressively sweatier and progressively more horny every time they caught the other checking them out, and Buck had thought to himself - I don't do this with any of my friends. Just - out and about enjoying the day and fucking around for the hell of it, and he'd been so caught up in the idea that Tommy could be a friend as well as a lover that he'd - he'd started picturing it.

A life. Shared, in all the ways that mattered. Holding hands on the beach and smiling at each other in the surf. Teasing one another about the silliest things, too many inside jokes to count, making Tommy laugh and laugh and laugh.

He'd never let it go farther than that. Hazy edges of a home filled with filmy curtains and Tommy's insane DVD collection got shoved away, like pulling back the curtain was just asking for disaster.

Being taken care of, when things weren't easy, when one of them was pissed, when everything was perfect other than a flare up in his leg.

He'd always thought they were on the same page and never bothered to ask if they were reading the same book.

Tommy's was a tragedy, in three parts.

Buck's was a fluffy short story, all purple prose and gratuitous overindulgence, with a kick-your-teeth-in surprise unhappy ending.

So. So now someone else gets the Tommy experience.

He's irrationally annoyed they won't appreciate it. He's insanely jealous by the idea of them appreciating it better than he ever did.

"He - do you want to tell me about him?"

Tommy's brows knit. "Well, he has me doing homework, which I don't love."

Buck lets the words work through him, over him. Younger, again? Like Tommy has a type, and that, for some reason, grinds Buck's gears. Or is that some sort of euphemism for -

"And part of the syllabus was talking to the people who scare me about the things that scare me."

And that sounds like -

"Shilling out all this money out of pocket so the Chief doesn't know I'm a basket case and the first thing he has me do is confront fear like that's not the damn foundation keeping me standing."

Buck picks at his coaster.

Tommy clocks the move and stills, glancing up at him, startled. "You thought I meant -."

"Yeah."

Tommy's hand shifts away from his beer, towards Buck's, before he aborts, spreading fingers against the sticky two-top they'd snagged from a couple who barely glanced at them as they threw on their coats, too starry-eyed in lust to notice the two burly men who'd been lingering by the bar waiting for a table to open up. He couldn't blame them. They'd been right there, obsessed with the way it felt to be naked together in all the ways except the ones that mattered, to get lost in the slide of skin and the feel of tongues sliding together, bodies shifting into one another.

Buck does the scariest thing he can think of. He looks up, and rolls a hand away from his own bottle. Palm up, fingers loose, crawling two inches forward.

His heart is somewhere in his throat and he doesn't look away when Tommy blinks at the extended hand. "I scare you?" Buck asks, and Tommy leans forward to knit their fingers together.

"You scare the everliving shit out of me, Evan."

They didn't really talk, the way they should have.

If Buck has to think back on that day at the beach, with the wind turning Tommy's loose curls into a vortex atop his head, with the tide licking at their ankles, with the ridges of the football grooving into Buck's palm - they'd flirted, and had a surface level conversation over the sounds of a pair of five-year-olds screaming their lungs out as they tried to fill a hole they'd dug in the sand with buckets and buckets and buckets of water that was gone each time they made it back from the surf with a new pail-ful of ocean.

The kids hadn't even cared that their hole never held any of that water in. They'd just been thrilled to pour another bucket full of water in, the sand drinking it all up.

"You never scared me," Buck admits, and hates the way something sad flickers behind Tommy's eyes, because he's spent enough time doing postmortem on their relationship to have an idea about why that would hurt Tommy. "That - it meant a lot, to me, that I always felt so solid with you. That I never had to question..."

Tommy's smile pulls at something deep in his gut. It's not a happy smile, it's the kind with broken glass hiding beneath the surface, ready to slice and bleed in an irreparable way.

"And then I ripped the rug out," Tommy says. It's his judgy tone, the one Buck always hated to hear him use on himself. The one he'd used a lot more than Buck had wanted to notice, at the time.

"I didn't exactly make a good case for myself," Buck tells him, and Tommy squeezes his hand.

"Larry says I let the fear take the cyclic nine times out of ten."

Larry's a weird fucking name for a therapist, Buck doesn't say. "That is not the way he said that," Buck actually says, and Tommy glances up from behind his lashes, the skin on one side of his mouth dimpling.

On early mornings in a bunk when he couldn't sleep after a shitty call, he'd sometimes imagined what those devastating smile lines would look like as the skin around the muscle got thinner, less buoyant. What the specks of grey in his high and tight fade would look like as they became more prominent.

"We workshopped a way to paraphrase it without tearing my own hair out."

"Why are you going to therapy, Tommy?"

The hand squeezing his tightens like a vice.

"Because you scare the everliving shit out of me," Tommy says, amusement in his tone even though his eyes are swimming with unshed tears. "And I'm tired of either of us thinking that doesn't mean something."

"You can't use me as an excuse instead of admitting you're a little messed up in the head."

Tommy's laugh sticks in his throat somewhere, Adams apple bobbing. "That's what Larry said, too."

He tries to picture Tommy in a room with soft lighting, vaguely comfortable seating, a stress ball he could flick between his enormous hands because he has to be fiddling with something at all times or he goes a little crazy - toe tapping or knee jumping while he flexes his palms against his thighs. Larry probably has a field day taking notes of all the ways Tommy stims to make himself feel like a person.

"So...what does that mean?"

He looks like he wants to bolt. It's such a stark contrast - the way he always made sure Buck was the most comfortable he could possibly be and the way he always had his muscles braced for flight.

"It means I can't shake you. Means every time I had a foot out the door the other one was digging in on the other side of the frame. Means I..." Tommy shifts, again, pushes the beer off to the side to reach out and wrap his other hand around their clasped hands. "Means I still don't know what the fuck is wrong with me but I'm hoping you have the patience to be there while I figure it out."

"As...as what, exactly?"

He's scared of the answer, he realizes. Scared that Tommy thinks he's too messed up to - to be with someone. Scared that what Tommy needs is something he's screwed up so many times he's barely spoken to his best friend without a fight in months.

He's scared.

Oh.

Oh, he's scared.

Scared of trying to fill a hole in the sand with briney water.

"I'm a terrible friend," Tommy intones, voice soft, lower lip tucked beneath his teeth. "Think I could have been a better boyfriend."

"You were the best boyfriend," Buck says, a little offended on his behalf, but he's not - he's not wrong. They were so caught up in the being together part that they never figured out what they were trying to do with it.

"I was very good at pretending I didn't want more from you than you were giving me."

It looks like it hurts him at least half as much to say as it does for Buck to hear it. He swallows around a suddenly tight throat. "Will you - can you tell me what you wanted?"

Tommy's face goes through a series of expressions. Lands somewhere between terrified and determined. "Fair warning, I still want them."

Something warm and careful curls up and purrs beneath his ribcage. He's scared. They both are.

That means something.

"Don't try to reassure me if it gets scary," Buck says, and Tommy chokes out a phlegmy laugh, takes a stuttering breath, and lets loose.

---

"Evan."

Buck blinks awake, and rolls his eyes blearily until he catches sight of Tommy, kneeling over him on the bed.

The look on his face has Buck scrambling to wakefulness, and Tommy looks guilty, for a moment, before he tamps it down. "Its okay. I'm okay."

It's -Buck darts a look at the trusty alarm clock he's had at his bedside since the first time he slept through five alarms on his phone - three in the morning and when they spoke on the phone earlier tonight Tommy made it clear he had too much going on tomorrow to make the drive to Buck's. So. Not okay.

"Fine, I'm not - I'm in one piece," Tommy admits. He looks wrung out, exhausted. Something must have happened in the six hours Buck's been sleeping, because he was having a killer shift when they left off for the night. He'd been excited about having to execute some slick maneuver during that high rise fire downtown.

Buck goes to work unbuttoning Tommy's jeans. He leaves his shoes by the door, every time he uses the key Buck gave him three months ago (his heart in his throat, nerves making the words more difficult than they should have been) so the pants come off without a struggle, and then Tommy's whisking his shirt over his head, and he's bare and antsy as he stares at Buck, shifting on his heels. "Big spoon or little spoon?" Buck asks, and something in Tommy stills, the frantic energy bleeding out of him like that question debrided the layer of skin over the blister that is his mental state at this moment in time.

Tommy climbs over him to get to his side of the bed. "Little," he murmurs, already turning to show Buck his back, and around the quiet maneuvering of the duvet Buck gathers him up, gathers him in, an arm under the pillow and his hand spread wide across Tommy's chest.

He'll talk about it when he's ready.

Or Buck will have to do the work and force it out of him, later. Larry says Buck needs to push more than he does and fuck anyone who tells him he's making it about himself.

Larry's kind of an asshole. He doesn't join Tommy very often, but when he does he gets why Tommy keeps going back. It's not the right style for Buck, one-on-one. But he sure does know how to get his point across.

Tommy's got more freckles on his shoulders from helping Buck put together a new garden bed out in the yard three days ago, a kink in his neck from taking a dive playing volleyball on the beach last week.

("We won, didn't we?"

"And now Mr. Side Sleeper won't be able to find a comfortable position for a month."

"Next time I'll let Ravi and Lucy crow about beating us for the rest of our lives.").

"I want kids," Tommy says, out of nowhere, swinging his ass back into the cradle of Buck's pelvis, like he doesn't feel quite close enough to Buck, yet. Buck tightens his hold. "I know we haven't talked about it. Figured it was pretty obvious what your opinion on the matter was."

A barbeque, three months into them trying again, Chris trying to get his attention while he had Robert spitting up on his shoulder and Jee throwing a tantrum about not being the center of attention - when Tommy had swooped in with the assist, yanking Jee up onto his knee to distract her and smiling at a grateful looking Christopher. Buck had stared at him for the entirety of Chris's breakdown of the latest exhibit at the MOMA while the want threatened to swallow him whole.

He hadn't bothered to ask how Tommy had managed to turn that tantrum around so quickly.

There's still so much they don't know about each other.

They're getting the hang of asking now. Telling. Listening. Pushing through the terror of an assumption.

"There was a couple, my last flight. Broken ankle and some scrapes and bruises up in Runyon. Pregnant woman married to an idiot of a man."

Buck hums.

"Guy decided three hundred yards up the trail to let his wife know he never wanted kids."

"Sounds like a nightmare."

"Garret had to strap him down and they still managed to argue themselves hoarse before we made it to the hospital. And I just got to thinking - if I don't tell you shit, you can't read my damn mind and ferret it out. I don't want to be a decrepit old man when our kids graduate high school."

Our kids kind of kicks him in the solar plexus, but he lets it bruise over, for the time being. "You're gonna be built like a brick shithouse when you're eighty, shut up."

Tommy chuckles. Sighs, and tips his head back. "I had a panic attack in the truck because I don't want them without you and I never asked."

Buck presses a kiss to his temple. Another to a new spray of freckles on his neck.

"I get to be the bad cop dad."

Tommy snorts, and snuggles in a little bit more. "Like that was ever a question, I'm gonna be the biggest pushover this side of the Mississippi." He's quiet, for a long, long moment. A hand settles over top of Buck's. "Not now. But I want to - talk about it. Figure out the options."

Kam's been bugging him about the viability of her womb in the most graphic way possible since she met Tommy once, six months ago. So that - that's an option. Maybe.

If they decide on something soon.

They don't even live together. Technically.

"Larry's gonna have a field day with this one," Tommy says, and Buck tucks his nose into the hair at the back of Tommy's head.

"You want me to go?"

"No. I'll tell you, after, but. No, this is a Tommy Special."

"Your dad?"

"My father. My mom. Three uncles and twenty shitty captains and - and Bobby."

The sting is the same as always. He just found a place to store the pain.

"Is this a tarp in the hole situation, or do you think you can put the bucket away?"

Tommy groans. "You know I hate it when you and Larry come up with convoluted metaphor."

His breathing is evening out. The hand over Buck's isn't shaking, anymore.

"You're gonna be a stupid good dad," Buck tells him, and doesn't mind so much when Tommy's lifts up his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles and they come back wet with tears.

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[palmolli]

Why I LOVEEE the Sky and Twilight duo to bits and pieces.

The PARALLELS. AAUAUUUUU- JOJO YOU GENIUS.

They're like night and day, but they're still like... THE SAME. Like twins with different aesthetics. I haven't seen anybody talk about this so I WILL.

Seriously, look at them. Sky's pallete is light, Twi's is dark. Yet they both wear waist thingies. They've both got blonde-ish brown hair, but Sky's is swept to the left, Twi's is swept to the right. Which is funny cuz... SKY IS RIGHT HANDED, TWI IS LEFT HANDED.

Twilight is drawn with sharper edges, while Sky is drawn much softer. They both wear chainmail but... Sky's is silver, Twi's is gold. Both of them wear cloaks of some kind. Sky's is white, Twi's is black. NIGHT AND DAY. LIGHT AND DARK. YIN AND YANG.

JOJO WHEN I CATCH YOU JOJO-

(I'm going insane.)

Sky was born and raised a knight, Twi grew up on a farm. But both of them came from outside of Hyrule in tight-knit communities.

I could go on... and I will...

Both of them have sassy childhood best friends who always got after them, who also was the daughter of a leader, who both lost and had to recover their memory in some way. Except Sky's in love with her, Twilight is not.

Both of them had companions they became incredibly close with, only to have to part with forever at the end of their journey. Except Twilight's in love with her, Sky is not.

Both of them were used by the girl they love, both forgived her. Except Sky knew her all his life, Twilight did not.

Both of their girls have powers. Except one is from the light, while the other is from the dark.

Both of them have animal mounts that they love to death. But one soars in the sky, one gallops on the land.

Twilight is probably going to be the end of his bloodline, Sky is definitely going to start one (THE ROYAL FAMILY.) And more on that, Twilight is the descendant of a hero, but Sky is the ancestor to the princesses. Both of them have relatives ties, just in the exact opposite way. Sky likely has no idea, while Twilight knows all too well.

Both of them fought for those they love, one for familial love, the other for romantic. One earned a new friend, one lost a love.

Oh, and if you believe in the headcanon that Legend is Fable's brother, this gets crazier. Because then, Sky would have a descendant, Twilight would have an ancestor.

AAAUUUUUFHSHJHHHJJJHHHHHH.

(I'm spiraling)

Oh... and their games... heheheh...

Sky's game originally released with motion controls, but then later, it got a button version. Twilight's game got the opposite. Buttons to motion controls. The only two games with motion control sword mechanics. The same thing, but opposite.

Twi's game was gothic and grungy, Sky's was all pastels and sunshine, except both made a lot of people cry at the end. THE SAME THING, BUT OPPOSITE!!!! TWI'S GAME WAS PORTED TO THE WII BUT SKY'S CAME FROM THE WII THEN GOT PORTED.

Sky got his girl back after losing her, Twilight lost his after just meeting her. Eheheh... ahahah.... mweheheh...

This is also another reason I headcanon Sky's beast form is a goat. Twilight wishes he were a goat. Sky likely wishes he was a wolf.

Both are mediators in the group, dependable, and stable. Someone the others would come to for a listening ear and a comforting word, or some words of advice. Someone to lean on.

ffhhjkknfkdjkkkkkkkdhsjs.... I need... to go to sleep..... now... I might be here all day if I keep at this...

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism x Reader: Soft Spot

G/N. Gun, Goo, Vin, Samuel. You know you're their favourite. Masterlists

"There's someone here to see you," the receptionist says with a questionable look on their face.

Oh? You weren't expecting anyone. You follow them to the lobby, all the while they're casting furtive glances in your direction.

What the hell?

They look half impressed and half terrified. Who exactly is here to see you? You round the corner and-

Ah. Ok. This makes total sense.

Gun Park comes into view and you now understand their feelings completely. Looking larger than life, quiet and menacing and confident in an eye-wateringly expensive button-up and slacks that fit perfectly to his form.

My god.

Forget fight or flight, it's usually flight or goddamn when it comes to Gun.

But why is he here?

"You've forgotten this," he says holding out a bento box wrapped in a cute cloth with small chubby cats all over.

He came all this way just to deliver this for you? You soften and smile brightly. "Thanks!"

Gun nods, eyes concealed behind his sunglasses, but his fingers grazes and lingers on yours when he hands you your lunch.

.

.

"Can I try those on?" You ask.

Goo blinks owlishly. "My glasses?" 

"Yep!"

"Nope," Goo says, popping the 'p'.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Sure."

"Really!?"

"Nope," he repeats, smirking in your direction and you pout, bottom lip jutting out and pulling your cutest puppy dog eyes.

Ugh. 

It's just that... Goo has pretty bad eyesight. Yes he likes to wear glasses because it’s called style, but he also damn well needs them. Not that he likes to admit it, because he's sure some bastard would use that to his advantage, though he's confident that he'll be able to beat the hell out of anyone that tries but why work harder for the same result.

So no, he has never let anyone try on his glasses except-

He frowns at you. Your eyes are impossibly wide and sad.

Goddamn it, you've learned this pathetic look from him. And it's also working. Ughhhh.

"Fine!" Goo sighs and he removes his frames. 

You beam at him as he places them on your face.

.

.

"Really?" Mary snorts, arching an eyebrow when she catches the song playing on his phone.

Vin doesn't bother to remove his headphones. Turning up his music with one hand, he flips her off with the other.

She rolls her eyes and walks off, cussing him out under her breath.

That was embarrassing.

What would have been even more embarrassing is if she saw Vin's playlist. She would have no doubt been able to put two and two together, that witch.

It started as songs that he liked. Kinda. He couldn't put his finger on why he liked them, he just knew he did. It was an eclectic mix, everything from ballads through to blues to hip hop. Yet the vibes, to him, were all the same.

He listens to the playlist everyday, even as it grew and more songs were added, he came back to it regularly.

One night, lying in bed, music loud and a singer crooning into his ear as he texts you back, he finally realises the running theme.

It's cringe, and a secret he'll take to his grave-

Because he doesn't actually want to stop listening to these songs, to stop feeling this way-

It turns out-

(Damn, he hates that he's admitting this, but-)

They all remind him of you.

.

.

"Tell me," a voice drawls into your ear and you nearly jump out of your skin.

"Why am I, your boss," A pause. "Or rather, your boss's boss's boss waiting for you to finish work you should have completed 2hours ago?"

"I- I'm sorry!"

You look up at Sammy, contrite and desperate because this report is taking far too long and you've made so many mistakes that your supervisor has rejected it twice before she went home and-

"Leave it."

You blink. Once. Twice. Your eyebrows knit together. "Huh?"

"I'll assign it to-" Sammy signals in the vague direction of your said absent supervisor. 

You think about her peacefully enjoying her evening then coming in the next morning to a monstrous report that is really your responsibility, as well as all her usual work and deadlines and-

You gasp, "No! You can't! I'll finish it in the next 30 minutes, I promise!"

Samuel peers past your eyes that are growing wetter by the second and your panic stricken expression and scans the screen quickly. Your report is almost done but he's already counted 17 errors on a single page.

This must be some kind of company record.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"This can wait," he decides. It really can't though.

"What, I thought it was for your meeting?" It is.

"Don't worry about it." You should be worried about it.

"Are you sure?" No, he isn't sure.

Samuel takes one look at your eyes full of hope and decides that yes, he will have to make this work either way.

He's confident that tomorrow will go well, it has to. With or without this report. And if not, some subtle blackmail and threats will certainly help.

[pizzaapeteer]

Jealous

Enzo gets jealous and tries to keep his cool. Inspired by this song. Fluff, enzo being his usual cheeky shit, bold reader. The usual swearing warning.

A/n: This is dedicated to my wifey @amongemeraldclouds i love you so much enjoy!!! It's not birthday related but it is a present for you my love 🤍🫂🎉 although I had it proofread I'm still 4 mimosas deep so hopefully its okay!!! divider from here

In the cool shade of the transfiguration courtyard, Lorenzo sat tucked amongst the bustle of his friends, taking in the familiar whiffs of their morning smoke and the sweet dew dripping down from surrounding leaves. His body reclined in relaxation, his legs spread, oozing with a confident manner as if nothing could irk his contentment.

His face rests carefree with a casual smirk, listening to the spurts of nonsense his friends ramble on about. He adds in his two cents here and there, his eyes shifting around the scenery of the courtyard, amused by the tight-knit group of Slytherins that had become his best mates. Regardless of how stupid the debate was, spending time in the company of them was his favourite pastime before the long drone of classes began.

Suddenly his ears perk like a radio signal, tuning in on the captivating sound of your distinctive laugh. His body tenses, sitting up with alert reflexes. His eyes narrow, probing the area for his target. You, laughing? Without him in sight, unheard of. He wouldn't stand for someone else making you laugh. You were his girl. Well, unofficially, but he knew, and he was certain you did too.

Despite the division of you being sorted into Ravenclaw, Lorenzo had continued to keep contact, your relationship stronger than some house separation. You were the one exception outside of his friends of snakes- an honour, really, for Lorenzo Berkshire only had the best.

His brow creases with a sharp frown, finding you encircled by a few of the Ravenclaw quidditch team players with none other than that wicked, impudent expression on your face. He watches how you interact flirtatiously, having the audacity to do so, while his jersey sits possessively on your shoulders. Little minx. His gaze doesn't cease, staring with an intensity that could burn through your skull and yet you don't notice him.

The earlier conversation with his friends blurs and a deep scowl morphing in a way that didn’t suit his pretty face. He stands, his body seething with jealous adrenaline, determined to weasel his way over into the conversation if you were to blatantly ignore him. You were relentless, cheeky and outgoing. You always liked to push his buttons in ways that left him strung up on how you really felt. His feet move on their own accord, striding towards you with a composed swagger, reigning in his temper with a deep discipline, approaching with a fake warmness only you'd spot.

“Hey fellas, how we doin over here?” Subtle bitterness slithers in his words, under the playful demeanour he presents, his grin friendly to the group, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Making himself at home, outstretching his arms around you and the nearest guy standing deathly too close to what's his. He tenderly caresses your skin with a hint of possessiveness, while his fingers dig into the guy's shoulder with an unrelenting force that makes the guy's muscles twitch painfully. “Keepin my girl company, huh?” 

“Your girl?” A chorus of confusion arises from the group, the guy under Lorenzo's grip now desperately trying to escape his hold at the new revelation. Ending up on the wrong side of Berkshire is certainly not a fate he wishes to fulfill.

You just laugh, doing nothing to deny being called his, reaching up and ruffling Enzo's hair in a loving manner. “Play nice, Enz. We’re just having a chat.”

He gives you an innocent smirk, though his eyes hold little amusement for the situation, an icy vehemence that would send shivers down a Hungarian horntail's back. "What? I'm always nice y/n."

Meeting his eyes, you can only smile, amused by his sarcasm, fighting back the eye roll.  Sensing his emotions heightening with every second you linger around the other guys, you finally excuse yourself, allowing him to steer you away with eager dominance. He covers his initial jealousy, cracking a wide grin down at you, his arm bringing you closer to his side, walking indoors to the castle, leaving the others standing dumbfounded.

“You just love to test me, don’t you, pretty girl?” His eyes glisten with tease, tapping his fingers on your shoulder, making sure you can’t escape his embrace. He loves it when you let him hold you, even if not as intimately as he would like. He’ll take what he can get with you. 

You laugh, bumping his hip, “Oh please, I was just saying hi to my house athletes. All friendly play here.” 

He snorts, flicking your head with a finger, “I’m the only athlete you should get friendly with.” He presses a kiss to your temple afterward, but really only so he can whisper in your ear. “Wearing my fuckin jersey and all.” 

“Oh, don’t be jealous Enzo,” You playfully brush off his unsatisfactory attitude with a cheeky grin, eyes sparkling with delight and mischief.

“Jealous?” He huffs, a dry chuckle. Stopping in his tracks, he tugs you abruptly into the nearest crevice, looming down on you with disbelief. “What's there to be jealous of?” His tone comes across feigning confusion and nonchalance, trying to keep his cool. His eyes study yours, while subtly trying to gauge what you're thinking. 

Despite his significant height and build that would reduce someone to nothing, you feel no form of intimidation craning your neck up to peer at him with more interest, bearing another amused smile. "You really think I’m that oblivious?” When he offers no response, you jab at his chest with slight aggression, stifling a laugh. “You do! You absolutely do!” 

He looks at you with real puzzlement, now scratching the back of his neck. “You’re fucking playing with me, aren't you?” His eyes narrow at what he thinks is a joke, a game, another moment where you leave him flustered and his jaw on the floor. 

Studying his expression, the deep frown of his brow like a confused puppy, you note the suspicion in his eyes. “I like you when you're jealous. Means something you value is being threatened. Though you're not one to threaten easily, are you, Enzo? " It's hard to stop smiling when you're around him. The way the two of you bicker and banter with one another, and right now, it's impossible not to tease him. "You really like me, don’t you?"

The surrounding air slows, his throat constricting like a hose with a coil in it, his gaze doesn't shift from the cute cocky grin on your face. Fuck fuck fuck. Be cool. Be fuckin cool. A smirk graces his face and he taps your nose. “Course I like you sweetheart, you're my best friend.” 

As if a dark cloud conjured suddenly hid all the joy, your once playful expression drops, and a fury resembling deep offense overcasts it. An attitude spits out with flicks of venom, reminding him instantly how powerful you'd be as a Slytherin. “Did you just try to fucking friend zone me? Lorenzo Berkshire! Take that back right now or I swear-"

“Oh shit fuck! Y/n I’m kidding alright!” He grabs your wrist as you continue aggressively poking his chest with a powerful force for such a small thing. “Calm yourself, women.” He mutters before grabbing your other hand and stopping another attempted assault from you, pinning them against the wall above your head. 

“Merlin, you're a firecracker.” He comments, but it lands more like a compliment. He takes the moment with you defenseless to appreciate your beauty. The anger simmers, taken back by the sudden submissive hold he traps you in, eyes widening with calming breaths. His forehead presses onto yours with an intimate touch that makes your heart pound- vulnerable for once. He notices the fire beginning to light in your eyes, filled with yearning and desire. “I do like you, a fuck ton.” He drops one hand and taps your chin, “You’re my girl ain’t you?” 

His smile is sweet and genuine and it melts all remaining anger away as he admits honestly that you're his. A sheepish laugh leaves you, and the two of you lock eyes, his lashes brushing featherlike against your nose in his bending position. His breath tickles along the ridges of your lips, and you lick them, finally mirroring his expression. "why don’t you kiss me like I am then?” 

Enzo doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips capture yours without hesitation, the fullness of his eager lips slide perfectly, overlapping with yours. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s urgency and longing unravelling throughout the kiss. He releases his grasp on your hands, cupping your jaw and threading his hands into your hair. As though he’s afraid that this moment is a dream that will crumble if he lets go. 

His lips are everything you imagined, like a warm and inviting hug. The moment comes as naturally as a morning sunrise, like a river flowing carefree down a bank, or how two cats rub their heads together affectionately purring with love. It's natural, like everything that is between the two of you. It's like home.

His tongue pushes with a fiery demand, greedily searching for more now that you're finally giving him some certainty on your feelings. His mind is a mess with a clouded blur, he pushes you further into the dark corner as his lips continue to overlap with an exceeding ravenous passion. 

You pull back, stopping him from losing himself completely, and grin breathlessly, brushing your nose along Enzo's, who hasn't pulled away fully. His eyes remain closed, his lips a plush red, and he bites down hard, containing the verbal protest of wanting to stay close to you. 

“Pretty good Berkshire.” 

His own sinful train of thought is stopped in its tracks as you bring him back to reality with your cheeky jab, and he chuckles a breathless laugh. “Pretty good?” His voice a little hoarse and husky, his eyes finally fluttering open clearly still affected by your touch. “Please, I’ve made you starstruck. Look at those rosy cheeks.” He counteracts arrogantly, rubbing the apples of your cheek with his thumb. He speaks with confidence and with no room for argument. “I’m a damn good kisser, y/n.” 

“Yeah aight, I’ll give you a good rating in the quibbler.” 

He laughs, kissing your forehead with a fondness despite his next words. “You're such a little shit, like I’d read that junk.” He retreats back, admiring how your eyes shine with impish intent, tempting him. He wants to kiss you again and again till you're blue in the face, panting and gasping for air, your mind needy with desperation for him and only him. “Though maybe you’d be interested in testing out a few other things to add to your review?” His eyes gleam with sexual intention, a smug smirk gracing his face, making it difficult for you to refuse. 

“Oh yeah? I'd like to se..-" The words die off when a high-pitched mewl echoes through the halls and a blur of black fur grabs your attention. You quickly recognizethe fluff ball as your cat. "Oh shit! is that ken?" The cat scampers past the two of you with frightened, wide eyes before fang bounds past as well, chasing close on his tail. Without hesitation, you step out of Enzo's embrace, chasing afterwards to rescue your favourite feline.

Enzo turns in confusion at the quickness you ditch him for your pet, watching you disappear down the hall. He drags his hand across his face in irritation, finally choosing to follow, muttering to himself. “You got me out here chasing the wrong kind of pussy.”  

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ lorenzo masterlist. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2024. thank you for reading! lemme know if you wanna be on a general taglist by commenting or dming to be added. taglist: @2dloveshp 🤍 my fuckin bb

[chuluoyi]

✎ sweet felicity

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two are his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, crashing his lips against yours ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he hoped the heavens would always bring you back to him—and for you to always choose him just like this, no matter what.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.

[jetblack4realz]

damn bars - yellowstone boys

how the yellowstone (& 1923 too) boys react to you getting hit on at the bar

kayce, rip, ryan, carter, spencer

word count total: 5k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

kayce dutton:

you had gone out to the bar for one reason and one reason only: to dance.

you and kayce loved to dance, but you didn't get many opportunities to. so, when one night john took tate for a sleepover, winking at you as he pulled the boy away, you decided to get out there and swing away like you were teenagers again. you grabbed beth and rip to come too, knowing they'd appreciate getting out even if they didn't dance - would rip ever dance? probably not.

it was fun for the first little bit, all the good swing songs playing as he twirled you around the wooden dance floor. you pulled out old tricks he forgot you knew and he twisted and flipped you into cool routines you forgot he knew. when you decided to take a break, kayce heading to the bathroom while you ordered a drink, you just knew something was going to happen.

but, you ordered anyways, eyes on where beth was shaking her ass away to the fun country music playing and where rip was watching her with the fondest smile you'd ever seen from him.

the bartender slid you your drink. you smiled. "thank you."

he nodded at you, walking down the bar to attend to another customer as you leaned your back against the counter, eyes back to your sister-in-law.

"you've really been busting a move out there."

you turned to see a man, taller than you but definitely shorter than kayce, bigger, with a brown hat and black boots. he wasn't necessarily attractive and there was just something about him that made you want to scrunch your nose, so you did.

"yep," you hummed, sipping on your whiskey.

"you've only had the one partner. i'm sure i could show you some moves if you're looking for a new one," he said, glancing to the side as a smile pulled up one side of his mouth. "i don't see him here anymore."

"he'll be back," you told him, setting your drink down and looking him over again. "and even if i was looking for another partner, you don't look like much of a dancer, buddy."

he knitted his brows at that, looking down at you with a curious smirk on his lips. "spicy. i like that."

you wanted to throw up.

"don't call me that," you said. "that was gross."

"oh come on, darling," he said, shifting so he was more in your view. "just one dance? he'll never even know, he ain't here."

"he is." you held up your ring finger, flashing the rock that was your wedding band at him. "i ain't going with you buddy."

and that was when he grabbed you, hand on your hip as he pulled you into him. he smelled like bad beer, cheap cologne, and straight b.o. you instantly pushed away even as he held you tighter, speaking now: "one dance, baby. life is too short to only dance with one man the rest of it."

"life's too short to dance with ugly men," you retorted, scrunching your nose again as you finally, very forcefully pushed him away from you, backing towards where you knew rip was last standing. except he wasn't there.

you looked at the dance floor and your mind was blown. of course the one time rip wheeler decides to take to the dance floor was when you were actively being harassed at the bar.

the guy didn't like your answer and stepped towards you, mouth open to say something before another figure stepped in front of you, one you knew very well. especially since you'd picked out his shirt. you breathed a breath of relief as he glanced back at you, checking you were okay before returning a much more menacing gaze to your advancer.

"i don't know what you've said or done thus far, but the way my wife is lookin at you doesn't look very good for you," kayce said, his eyes turned in a glare as he stepped towards him.

"look, man, all i wanted was a dance, not anything more-"

"a dance is still too much to ask for, especially when she's already said no," kayce said sternly. "leave. now."

"what, like the whole-"

"i'd really love a reason to punch you and if you keep talking you're gonna be giving me one," kayce warned, but the guy didn't get it apparently because he kept going.

"hey, man i didn't do anything-"

kayce looked back at you. "he touch you?"

the moments between you nodding and kayce full on clocking the guy in the jaw went by in literally the blink of an eye. the man stumbled back and kayce swung again, effectively knocking him to the floor. he kicked him then, the man folding in half with a groan. kayce moved to do it again when you grabbed his arm.

"baby, let's just get out of here," you told him. "i don't need you getting in trouble."

"i'm the livestock commissioner, i'll be fine," he said.

"well, then, just..." you moved around him to where the dude was sprawled on the ground, looking up at your husband in fear as some blood tricked from a cut in his lip and also between his teeth. everyone in this town knew kayce dutton could throw a punch.

you stomped on his hand then, hard, earning a shout and an instant recoil. you could've sworn you felt a crunch under the heel of your boot when you did.

"so you can't grab any other girls anytime soon," you said before turning on your heel and grabbing your husband, who looked like he was chomping at the bit to get back to pummeling him. "c'mon, baby."

but, tonight was supposed to be fun. when you pulled him out the front door for some fresh air and maybe to bar hop, you thought to remind him of that. you turned to him with a smile, hand cupping his face just below his jaw. "c'mere, cowboy." you kissed him slowly, his hands falling to your waist almost instantly as he folded to your touch, returning the kiss eagerly.

when you pulled back, he kept you close, kissing you again.

"thank you," you breathed out when you finally broke again, smiling up at him. "i can always count on your mean right hook to get me out of any bad situation."

"i practice it just for that," he said quietly, pecking your lips again.

you laughed lightly. "seriously, thank you though," you said, wrapping your arms around his middle as you relaxed in his hold. "for saving me."

"i'll always save you," he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "and i'm never going to the bathroom while we're out again."

rip wheeler:

to get rip to go out was a chore. it usually took some promising of later nightly activities and some chanting and begging from the wranglers too. and when you finally got him there, he wasn't exactly interactive, mostly just watching you dance and getting you the appropriate amount of refills to keep you semi-aware.

aware for situations like this.

you were dancing the night away with teeter, hands in the air as you laughed and jumped and twirled with your favorite of the cowboys, glancing up at rip regularly to shoot him a wink or shout something about how great his ass looked in those jeans, when suddenly you felt hands on your waist.

you spun around, brows shot straight up as you swatted this strange, tall and skinny man who oddly reminded you of a drugged out, dark haired jimmy, man away from you, stepping back and bumping into teeter. "damn you're ballsy, dude," you said. he stepped back to you, his hands landing on your waist again, fingers brushing over the waistband of your jeans as teeter grabbed your shoulders and helped you shuffle away. "seriously, get off!"

"hey, come back here, baby-"

it was instinctive, really. your father had taught you how to throw a proper punch and rip had taught you the best places to throw it, and well, the first one that came to mind was the throat.

he staggered back with a choked breath, hand rising to his jugular as he stared at you with wide eyes. "you crazy bitch!"

"did you seriously just call me the bitch?" you said, stepping towards him now with your hand balled into a fist.

but, before you could throw another punch and before the psycho dude could fully recover, rip was now in the picture. two extremely well-placed punches sent the creep into the surrounding crowd. no one did or said anything for a few moments, everyone having seen him grab you and insinuating exactly who rip was in this situation.

he turned back to you, grabbing your hand tightly and sending a look teeter's way that had her collecting the rest of the wranglers, who had all suddenly appeared at your side.

"let's go," he said strictly.

"can we go to another bar?" you asked as he dragged you out of the facility and towards the truck. he let out a short laugh.

"there's no way in hell i'm letting you back into another bar anytime soon," he said. "if another psychotic bastard thinks he can put his hands on you i can't promise that i wouldn't kill him right then. it took a lot of restraint not to keep going in there, baby."

"rip, come on, let's have fun tonight - woah!"

and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder in a fireman carry. he barely even stopped to do it, just scooping you up and continuing on to where he'd parked the truck.

"nope," he said. "and anyways, there's other ways to have fun." he pulled the door open and set you on the passenger seat with a smirk. "you have a couple promises to fulfill for even dragging me here in the first place."

"damn," you mumbled as he gave you a quick kiss, shutting the door and crossing to the other side. as he got in and buckled, you looked over at him with a bit of a dopey smile on your lips. "have i told you i love you recently?"

"i'm sure you have, baby, but i'm happy to hear it again," he told you, smiling your way as he started the truck up.

"well, i do love you. and thank you. that sucked."

"and it ain't ever gonna happen again on my watch," he promised. "he really just snuck up on you there."

"literally crazy."

ryan:

you weren't much of a games girl, which everyone thought was weird given the man you were with. but, you were content to watch, to sit at the bar conversing with the wranglers who weren't involved in the game of pool or dancing, and to watch colby crash and burn as he approached girls again and again.

that last one was your favorite activity.

every now and again you would wander back over to where ryan was playing lloyd or jake, cheer him on, give him a quick kiss, and then return to the designated spot colby kept coming back to after another failed attempt at wooing a tourist.

the tourists were funny too. you could always tell which ones had just bought their hats and boots before or even while they were in montana just to blend in. some of the girls were wearing such california things you wondered if they were wanting to blend in at all, which the answer was no. colby, and plenty of other cowboys, liked the tourists. or at least, for a quick one.

you were watching him with a grin as he stumbled on his words with a pretty brunette, sipping on your drink casually. he was using his hands to emphasize something and she did not seem like she was interested in that something at all. you giggled to yourself.

"you like people watching?"

you glanced to your side to see a shorter man with spiky blond hair at your side. this guy didn't even take a try at a hat, sticking it with bright and shiny new black tecovas with a pointed toe and a snakeskin design that was so opposite of what you were used to.

you didn't think you'd ever been turned off more by a boot.

"yeah, i do," you nodded, looking back at where colby was actively losing his chosen girl's attention. "it's entertaining."

"it is," he agreed, taking the seat next to you. "you from around here?"

for some reason, you laughed. you guessed it was because he was so obviously not from here that for him to ask you if you were was just funny to you. "yep. you ever heard of the yellowstone dutton ranch?"

"it got anything to do with the park?" he asked.

you laughed again before taking a sip of your drink. "no. around here, when people talk about the yellowstone, they're talking about the 800,000 acre cattle ranch just outside of town owned by the livestock commissioner and the oldest family in montana."

he seemed shocked, but he tried to get through it, continuing his little q&a. "you're from there?"

"it's my family that owns it," you answered easily.

"and what's it like owning 800,000 acres of some of the most coveted land in america?" he asked, tilting his head at you. if you hadn't before, you definitely piqued his interest now.

you shrugged. "it's a lot of work, but it's worth it. it's beautiful."

"lonely, though, i bet," he said, and that made you laugh again. wow, he really tried that one.

"no, actually," you told him. "need a good amount of people to run that ranch. don't get too much time to yourself."

"do you want time to yourself?" he asked.

"i'm good with what i've got, thank you," you told him. you looked over at where ryan had caught sight of your predicament and was making his way over to you. you stood, shooting the man at your right a polite smile. "one of the cowboys we've got is particularly attractive. i'm entertained enough, don't you worry about me."

he saw ryan then and stood as well. "i wouldn't say he's particularly attractive. you could do better."

"are you suggesting yourself?" you asked with a laugh, holding an arm out to wrap around ryan's waist as he came to your side, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before eying the man in front of y'all. "sorry, pal. you may be decently cute, but you ain't no cowboy. if you're looking to get lucky in this town it'd do you good to remember that. shoot for your own kind."

the man looked up at ryan. "you her cowboy?"

"damn straight," ryan answered. "you better take that advice. a lot of the cowgirls you'll see around here anyways are taken, you're asking for a fight talking to 'em. you're just lucky she played nice. it's the only reason i am too." ryan nodded, tilting his hat at the man before stepping away and bringing you with him. "best of luck. just not with my girl."

he took you back to the pool table with him where lloyd was laughing at the sight of you. he pressed another kiss to your head.

"did you really have to call him cute?" he asked you.

"decently cute," you reminded with a shake of your head. "i called you particularly attractive, which is an understatement. i just didn't wanna shake the guy's confidence down too much. those boots are doin that enough for him."

ryan laughed. "damn tourists."

carter:

nearly everything carter did reminded beth of how rip was at that age. and nearly everything you did as you consistently visited reminded her of how she was at that age.

it had her worried and excited.

"don't break his heart," she told you one day, cornering you after lunch. "i've been there, i've done that, it's terrible for everyone involved. save yourself the trouble and just snag him now, you know you want him and he wants you. just date, okay? and don't be a bitch later."

the words shocked you, but definitely kicked you into gear. carter was shier than you ever were, awfully polite and gentlemanly as beth had trained him to be, and so you were the one to get him into going to the bar.

"will we even get served here?" he asked, holding your hand as you led him in.

"hell yeah we will," you answered, smiling back at him as you approached the bar. you were quick to pull out your id - a fake one, but one nonetheless - and slide it to the bartender. "an old fashioned please."

"what about me?" carter whispered.

you laughed lightly. "just get your id out, darlin'."

confused but obedient, he pulled out his wallet and was surprised to see a new driver's license in the clear slot he usually kept his in. one that said he was 21.

he held it up as he cleared his throat, catching the bartender's attention. "make that two." he looked back at you. "these any good?"

"i think so," you answered with a shrug. "you ever have bourbon before, or just beer?"

"just beer," he nodded.

"well, hopefully you'll like it," you said with a shrug. "i've seen your dad make them back at the ranch. i'm sure you'll like them."

"oh, he's not my dad," he corrected as the bartender slid them over to y'all.

you furrowed your brows. "really? you look exactly alike."

it was as he was taking his first swig of his drink that you felt someone slide between you and the person sitting next to you, their arm settling on the counter in front of you. you looked up, brows raised as you found a man, definitely in his late 30s, in a nicer shirt than this bar deserved, brand new boots, and what looked to be a cross between dress pants and jeans. interesting.

"can i help you?" you asked, his positioning crowding you into your seat even though you didn't move much. this was your bubble, he was the one who had to get out of it.

"just wondering if you had anyone paying for this drink," he said, his hand now on your whiskey as you narrowed your eyes.

carter moved sharply to stand, but settled when you set a hand on his knee, thumb rubbing circles into his jeans. you offered the guy a very thin, very fake smile.

"that's a nice shirt," you said, earning a wider smile from the man. "where'd you get it?" he almost went to answer, but you continued, your next few sentences stringing together in almost one breath.

"oh, well, i bet you don't know since your wife bought it for you. or - is it ex-wife, now? i don't see a ring, but i definitely see that faded tan line from it being there for years and recently taken off. probably because of a very similar situation we find ourselves in now. your wife is at home, with the kids, waiting for you to take her out to a dinner that will never happen because you're here, scoping out for the youngest woman you can find to sloppily sleep with in the back of your brand new honda civic that you convinced yourself and that girl was some new sports car because it's a 'newer model'."

already, he was in shock, staring at you with a scared kind of wonder that for some reason made you so proud.

you continued. "so, either you're here trying to do that again behind your wife's back, or she's already divorced you, which for her sake i hope is the case, because you seem like a pathetic piece of shit who blames his infidelity on being overworked and undersupported when really you're just a pedophiliac horndog who doesn't understand what the word 'no' means."

you took your drink back from him, taking a sip from it as you watched his expression change between shocked, offended, confused, and embarrassed.

"and yes," you added, "i do have someone to pay for my drink."

he gaped at you as you turned away from him, hand still on carter's knee as you grinned into your glass, sipping from it again. he glanced behind you at carter and you knew he wanted to exclaim how carter was a boy and he was a man, but didn't because he didn't know what else you would say.

"you psycho bitch," he muttered. "all i did was offer to pay for your drink."

"yeah, well i'm quite obviously young enough to be the daughter you had when you accidentally knocked up the drum major when you were a junior, so it's still kind of disgusting," you told him, rolling your eyes. "especially when it's so easy to see that the man i'm sitting next to is my boyfriend, or at the very least, someone else who is paying for my drink because we got them to us at the exact same time and my hand is on his knee. so fuck off, dickwad."

and he did, scoffing as he left. carter turned to look at you with wide eyes before he breathed out a laugh.

"you're my favorite person ever," he said. you smiled at him, shrugging lightly.

"i was trained by the best," you hummed.

he smiled at that before giving you a curious look, tilting his head at you. "so, i'm your boyfriend?"

"i'm hoping," you said, smiling back. "i mean, i really like you, and i think you like me. beth told me to get on with it already because why waste time, hence why we're here. i can call you my boyfriend, right?"

"yeah, yeah you can," he said, nodding as he breathed out a laugh.

you were beaming, maybe even blushing as you glanced away for a few moments before continuing conversation. "how's your drink?"

"surprisingly good," he answered. "you have good taste."

your smile softened a bit as you looked at him, nodding slowly. "yeah, i do." you finished your drink in one swig, setting the glass on the counter. "hey, do you wanna get out of here?"

"but, we just got here," he said, furrowing his brows.

"well, i just have this feeling more situations are going to arise that will either warrant me coming up with more speeches like that or you punching a guy square in the nose, and i'm not in the mood for either," you answered, standing and pulling your wallet from your bag.

"hey, no, i pay," he said. he tossed a ten and a twenty on the counter, his hand going to your lower back as he followed you out of the bar.

"hey carter?" you asked as he opened the passenger door to the truck, holding your hand to help you up. he smiled up at you.

"yeah?"

you reached forward, taking his face in your hand and pressing your lips to his gently. he froze for a minute, but stepped forward to reach you better and deepened the kiss as best he knew how, his hands on your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

when you pulled away, he was grinning, "damn."

spencer dutton:

when you and spencer left for africa, neither of you were fully prepared for the sheer amount of idiot tourists there would be, both on and off the safaris spencer went to go rescue.

most times, you accompanied him on his little adventures that were the hunts, him wanting to keep you close and you wanting to stay out of the city. but, for one fateful leopard chase, he'd told you to stay back at the lodge, which ended up being the right decision. you met back up with him in nairobi, where you'd stayed, and were sat at the bar waiting for him.

now, when a lady was without her man, other men noticed.

and the british men in africa noticed.

"no, thank you," you said with a polite smile as the tall, british man at your side told the bartender that he would pick up your tab. "i've got it taken care of."

"no, my lady, i insist," he said, helping himself to the seat at your side. he turned to the bartender then. "it'll be on mine. and i'll have a sidecar, please."

"a brandy man," you said, raising your brows as you sipped on your glass.

he chuckled, nodding as he then eyed your drink "yes. and... what it is you're drinking, ma'am?"

you smiled at him as you set your drink down. "whiskey."

"whiskey," he repeated. to say he was surprised would be an understatement, his brows raised so high they nearly touched his hairline. he didn't seem put off by it though, a smirk rising to his lips. "very american."

"well, i am american," you answered as you brought the amber drink back to your lips. "and so is my husband."

"and where is your husband?" he asked. there was a certain air to british people that made them seem as if they were always looking out for you and your wellbeing - he did not have it. his smile had shifted as he eyed you and your whiskey and his arm had somehow slid across the bar to nearly be touching yours.

"he's here," you told him, glancing over his shoulder in hopes that spencer would just appear out of the blue. "he's speaking with some coworkers currently."

"ah, a business man," he said with a gruff laugh.

"a hunter," you answered shortly.

his laugh cut short as he watched you with a hanging smirk, waiting for you to laugh and say instead that he was the viscount of hereford or something. but, you didn't. instead, you nodded, smiling as you set your glass against the counter once more.

"yes, he's an awfully good gunman," you continued. "grew up hunting in montana - where we're from. then, he went off to war. and, i mean, surely you've heard war stories about the american armies - they're intense. he learned a lot. it's definitely his area of expertise, shooting, so he does well here."

you felt a hand on your shoulder then, earning a quick check backwards. a smile tugged your lips up as spencer leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, his eyes on the man opposite you.

"you talking about me, darling?" he asked.

"yes, sir, i am," you hummed before turning to smile at the british man. "this is my husband, spencer dutton."

"i've heard about you," he stammered, brows knitted tightly as he stared at spencer. "you're the hunter, the one on the safaris who shoots the maneaters. the american."

"he's been hung up on the american thing," you mumbled to spencer, shooting him a sideways smile and shrug.

"yeah, i am american," spencer said with a bit of a huff. "had to clean up after y'all during the war, so i thought i might as well keep doing it here. just a bit more exotic, being in africa and all."

the guy didn't know really what to say, looking to you for help but you sure as hell weren't about to offer it. spencer's hand rubbed across the expanse of your shoulders, lingering on the exposed skin he could find.

"now, i appreciate you keeping my lady here safe while i was off, but it'd be good of you to move on now," he said, his brows raised as he eyed him.

"yes, of course sir," the guy answered, standing quickly. he looked to you, offering a tight smile as he nodded. "ma'am."

you nodded in return, an amused smile growing on your lips as you turned back to spencer. "it's about time you showed up. i thought you got eaten by that leopard."

"two leopards, actually," he said with a sigh as he sat on the chair next to you. he smiled when he met your eyes, reaching forward to grab the seat of the chair beneath your legs and pulling it towards him, the legs making a dull screeching sound before he stopped you in front of him. "i missed you."

"i missed you too," you answered, smiling as you reached a hand up to cup his jaw and bring his mouth to yours. he was happy to oblige, his hands on your waist as he tugged you to the edge of your seat.

"you're not leaving my sight for a while, baby," he mumbled as he kissed you again.

you laughed, shaking your head when you pulled back. "i reckon we should probably get back to our room then, hun. i wanna hear all about your hunt."

"i got hit on," he told you with a shrug, his grin growing as you raised a brow.

"serious?" you wondered as he stood, taking your hand and stepping back to let you out from between the bar.

"i'll tell you about it in our room," he said with a hum. you held up a hand as you began walking to the door.

"i don't wanna hear it," you said with a shake of your head. "i mean, she was probably right for thinking it-"

"they."

"they?"

"they."

"they were probably right for thinking it, but those things they were likely dreaming up about your cute face? that's my reality, baby. and i'mma make you say a lot of things that have nothing to do with those other ladies."

he laughed thinly, squeezing your hand as you pulled him out into the night air and down towards your hotel. his steps quickened as he moved close behind you, a certain urgency in his tone as he mumbled in your ear. "you never fail to, baby."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[wakasaz]

Caught

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Pairing: Wakasa Imaushi x Benkei Little Sister!Reader

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Not Proof Read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ WC: 1.4K

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ TW: 18+, MDNI, Age gap, unprotected sex, oral, humiliation?, public sex, pet names, Wakasa being a little shit, I think that's everything.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

It wasn't supposed to happen at all.

You work at the gym with your brother Benkei and his best friend Wakasa. You're pretty sure Wakasa only agreed to hire you because of Benkei. You work the front desk and occasionally clean the equipment, while Benkei and Wakasa teach classes and have one on one personal training with different members of the gym. You're the only girl who is ever here well except for Senju but lately she's hardly here.

The gyms members are mostly delinquents or former ones. Men your brother grew up around or fought at one time. Occasionally you get a random civilian who walks in thinking it's a normal gym but quickly leaves when they see the clientele.

Today was supposed to be like any other day and it was until Benkei left. Claiming he had important Business to take care of and it was urgent. You sit at the desk flipping a magazine while you blow bubbles with your gum and twirl a strand of your hair.

You didn't realize how quiet it has gotten till just now. You look up when you hear the slam of the front door and realize your alone. well not totally. Wakasa is standing across the gym, shirt off, sweat dripping down his chest and a towel around his shoulders as he wipes down the equipment he was just using.

You don't mean to stare and honest you don't even realize you're doing it until

“Oi!” Your eyes widen “just gonna lean against the counter and gawk at me all day little Arashi?”

“I—”

“Didn't know I was looking?” He raises a brow and you bite down on your bum popping the last bubble you blew making a popping sound. As you stand up straight.

“Just going to stand there looking like a deer in head lights or are you going to do your job and come help me clean up so we can leave?”

You nod your head and run over. Grabbing a towel and disinfectant on the way. You go to equipment across from Wakasa and start wiping it down trying to ignore him behind you. You can feel him staring.

Minutes pass in silence then you feel warmth against your back and you feel someone breath against your neck.

“Ever boxed little Arashi?” Wakasa says as he puts his hands on your hips

“W-what?” He chuckles

“Ever spar with anyone? your dear older brother ever show you how to throw a punch or did he just say to call him when you're in trouble?"

He grips your hips tighter

“I can throw a punch!”

He laughs against but this time he spins you around so face you get dizzy then your nose to nose with him. He's smirking at you.

“Show me”

“What?!”

“You hear me Little Arashi. Show. Me” He leans in close when he says the last two words.

“You want me to hit you?”

He's full of laughter now. A laugh you've never heard from him before.

“You think you can?” He tilts his head his hair swaying to the side, raising an eyebrow, smirk widening.

You glare, knitting your eyebrows together and you fist you hand and go to hit him because how dare he think less of you but just as you do he grabs your hand instantly. Stopping the hit like it was nothing. He raises a brow a again and widens his smirk.

“Really? you call that a punch? A kitten could hit harder”

You huff and yank your hand away about to leave because while you might be his employee you didn't sign up for him to pick on you while your older brothers gone.

“In the ring”

“Huh?”

“Get. In. The. Ring.” He points to the boxing ring in the middle of the gym. You're eyes widen and he starts walking over towards it pulling the ropes down. “I'm going to show you how to throw a real punch. Now get over here.”

You do as he says. He helps you in then gets in himself. Both of you discarded your shoes before getting in.

You stand opposite of each other when he explains the basics then tells you to come at him promising to go easy on you and not really hurt you. He blocks every hit like he can see what you are planning before doing it. You're panting and sweaty while he looks bored.

“Is that Really all you can do?” He tilts his head again. You huff and go at him again determined to land one hit even if it doesn't hurt just one. But he shocks you. You yelp when you feel him grab your wrist and yank you forward then you feel him swipe your feet out from under you. You're falling backwards and hit the bottom of the ring but what makes you gasp is Wakasa is on top of you pinning you down. You both bounced when you first hit the ground but now you're pinned down by a solid chest of muscles.

He's so close your noses almost touch, you can feel his breath on your lips. “Benkei really should have taught you to fight. It's dangerous around here especially for someone as pretty as you”

Your eyes widen and then you gasp as you feel his lips touch yours. He using your gasp to his advantage, slipping his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss. Before long you're kissing him back. Your hands end up in his hair and he is grinding against you. Your legs on either side of his waist. You don't know when you spread your legs but right now you don't care to remember.

His hand is At the bottom of your shirt and slips up under it. You can feel the warmth of his palm on your skin and you mean into the kiss.

He's kissing your neck now as his hands play with your tits under your shirt. You're pulling his hair and moaning. Before long you're naked below him and his Head is between your thighs eating you like a man starved. He's licking and biting anywhere his mouth and tongue can reach. Switching back and forth between tongue fucking and finger fucking you.

You're moaning his name as your back arches coming undone on his face as he licks up ever drop like it's gold. He crawls up your body before discarding his workout shorts And boxers. You gasp when he pushing in not expecting him to be as big as he is. He bottoms out and waits for you to adjust before moving. Once you nod he starts thrusting, slow at first but slowing picking up speed.

You're both grabbing onto each other anywhere you can. Mouths all over the other, kissing, licking, and biting. The gym is filled with slapping sounds and moans. Wakasas hand finds your clit and he starts rubbing lazily as you both chase your high.

Wakasa flips you both over putting his hands behind his head “ride me Little Arashi” smirking up at you. You bounce and grind on him his hands going back to hips to help you move. You reach your peak minutes later cumming all over him. You don't remember how many times you have for him tonight too fucked out to care.“What would your brother think? To see his little baby sister getting fucked by his best friend and her cumming all over his mouth and cock”

And just as the words leave his mouth you both hear the door slam open. Your head whips to the door and you cover your chest, eyes wide.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Benkei yells as he storms over

Wakasa lazily pumps up into you from below “you're in my gym Benkei” He says lazily

“You're in my sister!”

Wakasa chuckles as he continues to lazily move. You threw yourself on him, embarrassed, hiding in his neck. “Aw, you're embarrassing her Benkei” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

they continue to argue before Benkei says something about wakasa being a dead man before you're being pulled off him and a jacket being wrapped around you. Next thing you know Benkei is chasing Wakasa around the gym. Wakasa is faster a lot faster. He runs over to you kisses you and says “we aren't don't little Arashi, I'm picking you up at 8” He winks and runs again after hearing Benkei yell he's going to kill him if he doesn't get away from you.

You stand in the middle of the gym in Wakasas jacket. Benkei must of grabbed it and threw it around you watching at Wakasa runs around like an idiot and your older brother screams behind him that he has killed men for less. But you just stand there smiling remembering how Wakasa gave you several of the best orgasms you've Ever had.

[anthotneystark]

Well, if you're rough and ready for love (Honey, I'm tougher than the rest)

(edit: now on ao3!)

Eddie is suffering.

It’s hardly the first time, but it’s self-inflicted this time. At least it’s not going to physically almost kill him like the bats did.

Emotionally, sure, but not physically. That has to be some kind of win.

“Did you get Vecna’d? Do I have to get my trumpet? I don’t know if you can play Metallica on a horn, but I’ll try if you need me to.”

“Buckley, I would pay money to see you attempt it,” he says absently, his gaze never moving.

“Good, I could use the bonus.”

“Probably a good time to say I’ve only got Monopoly money.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

He hums an agreement, startling a moment later when a hand is suddenly blocking his view.

“Stop drooling, it’s not attractive.”

“Nothing about me is attractive to you.”

“Fair, but still. Ew,” she snorts.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t help it. He’s just so….” He doesn’t even have a word for it, so he just sighs.

“Who would have thought. Mr. Anti-Conformity drooling over Jock Extraordinaire. He’s wearing pastels. What have you become?”

“Shut up, he’s your platonic soulmate.”

“He is. And I love him. I just also know that he’s all sporty and preppy.”

“He can be as sporty as he wants as long as he keeps wearing those shorts he had on the other day.”

“Gross.”

“Even you can admit he looked good.”

“Sure, but you’re drooling again.”

He should be allowed a little drool. Steve had looked so biteable.

“He’s not even wearing shorts today, it’s too cold for that, doofus.” It was. Summer had well and truly turned into fall. Shorts had been replaced by jeans (except on the days Steve and Lucas played basketball, then the shorts came back out), polos more often than not were exchanged for sweaters, and by god, it was kissing him even more than the shorts and tank tops of summer had.

(This is without even considering the extreme number of shirts that Steve had sacrificed to become half shirts “for more air flow, because I can’t just walk around shirtless, obviously.” Because it was obvious. Showing his chest was too much, but the soft skin of his stomach, interrupted by the trail of dark hair vanishing under his waist band, wasn’t too much. Obviously.)

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have been worse with less skin showing. But it was because somehow, knowing that the soft knit of those sweaters was covering slowly paling skin, strong muscles and that beautiful, amazing layer of softness that rounded out hard edges…well, it completely ruined his train of thought until he couldn’t remember where he’d been going originally.

Worth it, just getting to imagine how Steve looked under his clothes.

“He’s worn this stuff before, why does it have you in a coma today?” Robin sighs, put upon even though it was her decision to sit with him.

“His hair.” Because that was the kicker today. Because Steve Harrington had never walked outside looking less than completely perfect.

Because Steve somehow managed to look amazing even roughed up and dirty.

Because Stevie was comfortable with himself and picked the clothes he liked and didn’t bother hiding scars that only proved how far he’d be willing to go to protect his loved ones and didn’t care about if he didn’t look perfect.

“He didn’t style it.”

“I can see how you’d get that impression, but I assure you he did.”

“What?!” That makes Eddie finally look at her, nearly falling over where he’s sat.

“Yeah. It’s just not hairspray. He’s trying something new.”

“It works for him.” The response is automatic. Because it’s true. Because poofed up and closer to god could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and gunked up and water-logged could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and bedhead could only look that good on someone as pretty as Steve.

Steve is just. So pretty.

But today, today it’s not firmly in place, soft even if it’s not going to move from it’s position. Today it’s not slicked back with water as he pops up from under it to splash one of the kids. Today it’s not half flat from where he slept on it, the same side he’ll leave pressed into Eddie’s shoulder if he’s not quite ready to start the day.

Today, it’s soft, curling around his ears, over his forehead, fluttering in the wind. It’s not the same kind of curly that his own hair is, the chaotic kind that if he tried to brush it, it’d eat the brush. It’s gentler, and he desperately wants to touch it.

“Seriously, I’m worried about your brain right now.”

“My brain is fine.”

“Close your mouth then.” Well, that’s embarrassing. He tosses a glare at her, and it’s just enough time to miss Steve heading their way. He does fall over where he’s sitting this time, but it’s so worth it because it makes Steve laugh.

He’d do an embarrassing amount of things to hear that laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, looking so fond and amused at Eddie’s antics that it makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s still surprising, having that look aimed at him, getting it from Steve.

“Fear not, Sir Stevington, I will survive,” he says, pushing himself up dramatically. Steve’s eyes crinkle as he snorts another laugh, and they both ignore Robin quietly bleching.

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to see you get through everything just to get taken out by your own theatrics,” Steve says. Eddie doesn’t even have time to react – Steve’s smiling and that always slows him down – when his gorgeous, beautiful friend pulls off that pale green sweater and presses it into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t get cold on me, alright? I saw you shivering,” he says, like he hasn’t just ruffled his own hair once more and completely distracted all of Eddie’s thoughts in the blink of an eye.

And then he’s gone, off to give another attempt at skateboarding (trying to follow Max’s instructions and letting her laugh at him when she hears him fall before she does whatever trick it is perfectly even without her sight), and Eddie is left standing there, watching that perfect, broad back covered by a too tight tee shirt.

“This is a whole new level of pathetic, I think.”

“Shup it,” Eddie says, then freezes, feels her shit-eating grin growing. “Shut up!” He groans.

She can laugh all she wants, he decides, pulling Steve’s sweater over his head. It’s warm with his body heat, smells like his soap and his cologne and him.

She can laugh, he’s got a beautiful boy to watch, one who looks at him with a promise of what’s to come, when the time is right.

[uasyndrome]

Unspoken Heat

a/n: I made this because this has been on my mind FOREVERRRR. Idk why, but I love Lust Quirk au's (maybe because I love the idea of feeling obsessed and feeling desperately horny)!!! I've searched high and low and there's like none with shoto and I need some with my man fr. AWW I want to have his babies so bad. I WANT TO JUMP REALITIES AND LET HIM HAVE HIS WAY WITH ME FREAKING NOWW

I was going to make them do it from multiple rounds, but it's now basically 2 am and I'm tired T-T

Todoroki x Reader

warnings: smut, desperate/needy shoto, maybe self deprecation?, idolizing too/body(or person?) worship, cursing, maybe a lil ooc pervy bakugou?

The late afternoon sun bathed Musutafu in gold, casting long shadows across the sidewalks as you and Shoto Todoroki walked side by side, patrol jackets fluttering gently in the breeze. Your third year at U.A. had brought a sense of maturity to the class of 1-A, and work studies had become a near-daily responsibility. Today, the two of you had been assigned to patrol the central district, checking alleys, deterring petty crime, and just being a presence.

You walked in a comfortable silence, the air between you warm with familiarity. It was always like this with Shoto—quiet, but never awkward. He matched your pace effortlessly, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark hero uniform, the breeze catching a loose strand of his red-and-white hair.

"You did well back there," he said after a while, his voice calm but sincere.

You glanced up at him. "You too. You always handle tense situations like they're nothing."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Not nothing. But... I feel more focused when you're with me."

Your heart skipped. There it was again. That subtle electricity that hummed in the space between you. A lingering gaze that lasted a beat too long. The accidental brush of hands that sent sparks across your skin. These little things happened often, but neither of you acknowledged them. You told yourself it was just closeness. Just friendship. Nothing more.

Except it never felt like just that.

As you rounded a quiet corner, your conversation was cut short by a sudden crash—a loud boom that echoed down the alleyway to your left. You and Shoto instantly fell into step, instincts sharp, bodies tense.

"This way," he muttered, already igniting frost along his right side.

You nodded, fingers flexing as your own quirk readied. When you turned the corner, a tall figure in tattered black robes stood in the center of the alley, glowing eyes visible beneath the shadow of a hood. Civilians had already fled, but the chaos told you this one wasn’t your average troublemaker.

"You two... interesting," the villain crooned. "So much tension... so much heat."

Your brows knit in confusion. "Who are you?"

The villain chuckled, raising a gloved hand. "Call me Eros. You won't remember it for long."

Without warning, a blast of pink-tinted energy surged toward you. You dodged, rolling across the pavement as Shoto countered with a jet of ice. The alley filled with steam where fire and quirk energy collided. You fought together seamlessly—as you always had—back-to-back, covering each other, coordinating with unspoken ease.

But in the chaos, one of the villain's tendrils of energy struck Shoto square in the chest.

Shoto staggered as you turned towards him to quickly observe his condition.

"Shoto!" you shouted, rushing to his side as Eros hissed and disappeared into a flicker of mist.

"I'm fine," he gasped, waving you off. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, his skin flushed a shade deeper than usual.

"You don't look fine," you said, touching his arm gently.

He flinched.

His breath hitched visibly, like your fingers were fire.

You pulled back, startled. "Shoto?"

"I'm okay," he said again, but his voice was strained, tight, like he was holding something back. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You frowned in concern, stepping closer to him. "Let me help you back. You don't look steady."

Shoto hesitated, jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in his neck. "I'm—"

You looped an arm around his waist before he could protest again, carefully easing his weight against your side. His body was warm—warmer than usual. Not from fire, but from something deeper, something internal. You didn’t think much of it, assuming it was the aftershock of the villain’s quirk. The way he leaned into you, though… something felt off.

As you guided him through the empty alley, his breathing stayed shallow and ragged. He was quiet, unusually so, but you chalked it up to exhaustion. He was always quiet. Still, you could feel how his muscles trembled beneath your touch, how tightly his fingers curled at his sides as if holding onto control by threads.

You gave a soft laugh. "Guess this villain was more annoying than dangerous, huh? Weird quirk, though. Did it feel like anything?"

His voice came after a pause, low and hoarse. "Heat. It feels like heat. Everywhere."

You gave him a sympathetic smile, brushing his damp bangs from his forehead. "You probably need rest. That energy blast must’ve overwhelmed your system. You’re burning up."

He moaned softly at your touch, his jaw snapping shut, face flushing violently.

You froze. "Shoto?"

"I’m fine," he said quickly. Too quickly. But you let it go.

The walk back to the dorms was quiet. You kept a firm but gentle grip on him, not noticing the way his hand would twitch whenever your fingers grazed his hip, or how his breath caught whenever your body pressed a little too close. You didn’t see the way his eyes dropped to your lips when you spoke, or how his pulse throbbed visibly at his throat.

He noticed all of it.

Every brush of your hand. Every time your chest pressed against his arm. Every time your voice wrapped around his name like velvet. It was unbearable.

By the time you reached the dorm’s front doors, Shoto’s restraint was a fraying thread. He leaned harder into you, teeth gritted, his voice strained when he muttered, "I can get to my room. You don’t have to—"

"Don’t be stubborn. I’m helping you."

He didn’t have it in him to argue. You got him inside and helped him up the stairs. Your grip on his waist was steady, strong, and far too intimate for his overstimulated senses.

His room door clicked open, and you helped him to the edge of his bed. You reached down, kneeling to untie his boots, and when your fingers brushed his ankle, he nearly moaned.

Shame burned through him. He turned his face away, biting his lip hard.

"You really are burning up," you said softly, standing again. You touched his forehead and cheeks without hesitation, and it was like every nerve in his body exploded with want.

He couldn’t take it.

He grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, holding your hand away from his skin. You blinked at him, confused.

"Shoto...?"

His voice was raw, quiet, desperate. "Don’t. Please. I—"

You sat beside him slowly, your voice soft with worry. "Tell me what’s going on. Did the villain’s quirk do something to you?"

He looked at you finally, and the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, though he fought to hide it. His cheeks were pink, his pupils blown wide, lips parted as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

"I don’t want to make you uncomfortable," he said, barely audible.

Your heart squeezed. "You won’t. I want to help you. You’re my friend, Shoto."

His chest heaved. Friend. That word stung in this moment. Everything in him screamed for more—for your mouth, your skin, your voice whispering anything but friendship.

But he swallowed it down. Forced it down.

He nodded stiffly. "Just... give me a minute. I’ll be okay."

You hesitated, then gave him a small smile. "Okay. I’ll check on you later, alright?"

When you stood and moved to the door, he gripped the bedsheets with white knuckles, shaking. As the door clicked shut behind you, he collapsed back onto the mattress, groaning in frustration.

Shoto exhaled shakily the moment the door closed, relief flooding him—he could finally stop hiding the aching erection you'd nearly grazed with your touch. Shoto stood frozen for a moment, heart pounding, hands trembling at his sides.

Gone.

You were gone.

And with your absence came a rush of relief so sharp it nearly made him groan. The pressure that had been mounting under your gaze—your concerned eyes, your soft voice, the warmth of your hand on his skin—it was unbearable. Torture. Divine, slow torture.

And now, finally, he didn’t have to hide it.

He collapsed against the edge of his bed, chest heaving as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Shit…”

His cock was throbbing, straining against the fabric of his uniform pants—aching with every beat of his heart. It had been twitching all through your touch, your voice, the way your fingers had helped him. He didn’t even dare shift in place, afraid the friction alone might make him embarrass himself in front of you.

But now?

Now he was alone. No angelic presence to stop him. No soft, innocent eyes watching him like he mattered.

“Y/n,” he breathed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. His fingers reached for his belt, unfastening it with shaky urgency. “I’m sorry…”

He whispered it like a confession—like breaking some sacred vow.

Because you weren’t supposed to be touched like this. Not by him. Not this way.

Not when he saw you as something more than he has ever seen anyone. Not when you were the only one who made him feel peace, made him feel real. You grounded him, softened the heat and chill in his blood with nothing more than a smile.

You weren’t meant to be worshipped like this—half-naked, in his fantasies, laid out across his sheets while he whispered your name with raw, needy reverence.

But god, he couldn’t help it.

He dragged his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself, his cock springing up flushed and already leaking. The cool air hit his skin and he hissed, his hips jerking slightly in response.

“I shouldn’t…” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You’re too good… too good for this.”

But the thought of you haunted him.

The innocent way you’d tilted your head earlier when asking if he was okay.

The way you’d sat between his legs to remove his shoes, completely unaware of how close your face had been to his erection. He’d had to clench his fists to stop from reaching out, from grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him.

He wanted to see your eyes widen in shock—and then flutter closed with pleasure.

He wanted to hear you say his name, needy and breathless, while your walls fluttered around him.

“Fuck…” His head fell back, hand tightening around the base of his cock. The pressure shot straight to his gut, stars dotting his vision. “Y/n… you’d feel so good…”

He stroked himself slowly at first, thumb brushing over the head, smearing pre-cum down the shaft. Every tug of his fist sent a shiver through him, every breath a broken whisper of your name.

He imagined you hovering over him, straddling his lap, your soft thighs pressing against his hips.

He’d hold you gently—reverently—like you were breakable. Because you were. To him, at least.

Your touch alone had undone him.

He remembered that time you’d fallen asleep beside him during a movie night. The way your head had lolled onto his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck. He’d stared at the ceiling for hours after that, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have you close, to feel the weight of your trust in the curve of your body leaning against his.

Now, he pictured you like that—eyes fluttering open, lips parted, whispering his name as you straddled and sank down onto him.

He moaned, louder this time, stroking harder now. His hips bucked into his hand.

“I need you,” he choked out, voice strangled with desperation. “I need you so bad…”

His thighs tensed, abs flexing as the pressure built in his core—tight, scorching, unbearable. His free hand fisted the sheets beside him, knuckles white. Every inch of him burned, a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re in my head—every damn second. I can’t stop thinking about you…”

His rhythm grew frantic—painful in its urgency.

Visions of you danced behind his eyes—arching for him, panting, whispering his name with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“I’d take care of you… so gently…” he gasped. “You’d never have to beg. I’d give you everything.”

And with a strangled cry, his hips jerked off the mattress, his orgasm tearing through him like wildfire. Hot spurts coated his fist and belly, and he trembled through it—breathless, helpless, shattered.

He collapsed backward, chest rising and falling with shallow pants, your name still on his lips.

But the ache didn’t stop.

The fire didn’t fade.

The lust quirk still pulsed through his bloodstream, and the emptiness that followed release felt worse now—like he’d only scratched the surface of how badly he needed you.

He covered his face with one arm and let out a broken groan.

“…It’s not enough,” he whispered, voice cracked and hoarse. “God… it’s not enough…”

He didn’t know how long he could last before something snapped.

Before he snapped.

And the worst part was… all he really wanted was you. Not your body. Not your moans. Just… you. In his arms. Real.

And he didn’t know what to do with that kind of need.

Minutes dragged into an hour.

Shoto had changed out of his sticky boxers and his pants. The fabric kept clinging to his still-sensitive cock, and every accidental brush reignited that searing tension coiled low in his stomach.

The orgasm should’ve helped.

It should’ve.

But instead, it left him feeling more wrecked. More hollow.

He sat at the edge of his bed again, hunched over, damp strands of his two-toned hair clinging to his forehead. His shirt stuck to the light sweat on his back, and his thighs were tense, twitching occasionally from the phantom memory of your fingertips brushing his skin.

Why do you have this effect on me…?

He dragged a palm down his face, then through his hair, breathing hard. His cock had begun to swell again—painfully so, full and pulsing, begging for attention he was ashamed to give. Not again. Not with your voice still echoing in his head, the memory of your worried expression haunting him.

You were just being kind. That’s all.

He had to clench his jaw, dig his nails into the sheets, force himself not to buck his hips upward into the air like an animal in heat. The only thing that kept him from doing something reckless was the reverent, aching love he carried for you.

You’re too good for this, he told himself again.

You were sweet. Good-hearted. Light in his otherwise silent world. He’d seen the way you laughed with Kaminari, comforted Iida, sparred with Bakugou without flinching. You were so alive. And you let him be near that warmth.

You weren’t supposed to be the star of his darkest fantasies.

But it was impossible not to remember the way your lips parted when you were surprised—or the breathy little laugh you made when someone flustered you. The way your hoodie would ride up when you stretched after training, revealing the soft slope of your stomach and the waistband of your gym shorts.

And worst of all, that one time you’d laid down on the training room mats after a particularly brutal session. You’d been exhausted, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed, limbs spread lazily. He remembered it too well. The sight had burned itself into his memory—your bare legs, the arch of your back, your chest rising and falling.

He’d had to excuse himself to the showers that day. Freezing cold. And it hadn’t helped.

Now, as the lust quirk sizzled through every nerve ending, that memory surged back with dizzying intensity.

His cock twitched, leaking steadily, He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand against it, trying to will the heat away.

“I can’t… I can’t keep doing this…” he whispered to himself, voice thick with guilt.

His hips rocked against his own palm, almost involuntarily. He breathed through his teeth.

“Y/n… fuck—” his hand curled tighter, knuckles white. “You’re perfect. Too perfect.”

The pressure built again, sweat beading on his brow, thighs tensing as he gritted his teeth through the sensation. He bit down a whimper.

She doesn’t even know what she does to me.

He wanted to be strong. To fight it. But he was slipping—crumbling, second by second. His body was betraying him, trembling with the need to be touched, held, taken apart.

And only you could do it.

Only you had the power to pull him from this precipice.

But you weren’t here.

And all he could do was ache.

You tapped your phone again, hoping for a new notification. Still nothing.

"He's acting weird," you muttered, voice just above the background buzz of chatter . You slumped into the chair beside Midoriya, pulling your knees up to hug them against your chest. "I haven’t heard from him since he went to his room."

Midoriya blinked, setting his chopsticks down. "Was it a bad patrol?"

"No," you said slowly. "He got hit by the villain’s quirk."

Midoriya straightened. "Oh—are you okay? Did it affect you too?"

"No, just him." You hesitated. “I think it… affected him in a weird way.”

Bakugou snorted from across the table where he sat with Kirishima and Denki, arms crossed, eyes narrowing like you’d just piqued his curiosity.

"You check if it’s some mental quirk? Might be messin’ with his head," he said gruffly.

"He seemed flushed," you said, cheeks warming as the memory surfaced. “Sensitive. Even when I just touched his arm.”

Kirishima blinked. "Wait, like—physically sensitive?"

"Yeah," you nodded. “It was like even the smallest touch startled him. He got all stiff and wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

Denki leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Yo, wait, wait—are we talking, like, sensitive sensitive?”

You gave him a look. “What does that even mean?”

Kirishima, bless him, looked torn between smacking Denki or laughing. “Bro…”

Bakugou leaned in just a little, voice low and laced with mock innocence. “You sure you didn’t touch somewhere you weren’t supposed to, Princess?”

You choked on your own spit. “Bakugou!”

Kirishima and Denki burst into laughter.

"Man, what if he got hit with some kinda… y’know, body stimulation quirk?" Denki waggled his eyebrows. "Could be a total sensory overload."

You slapped your hands over your cheeks, trying to will away the heat that exploded across them.

"I'm going to sit with the girls," you muttered, standing up quickly and grabbing your half-finished plate. “You guys are the worst.”

“Aw, c’mon, we’re just teasing!” Kirishima called after you, still laughing.

"She totally touched his dick," Denki whispered to Bakugou, loud enough for you to hear.

"Wouldn't blame her," Bakugou muttered with a smirk. "That half-n-half bastard probably gets hard just hearing her voice."

Your face was on fire.

You stormed over to the girls’ side of the room and flopped down between Yaoyorozu and Uraraka.

“Rough crowd?” Mina asked with a sly grin.

You groaned. “The boys are being idiots.”

“They probably are,” Yaoyorozu agreed gently. “But are you okay? You seem genuinely upset.”

You sat up, clutching the pillow to your chest. “It’s Shoto. He got hit with a villain’s quirk today on patrol. He’s been acting weird ever since. Flushed, tense, avoiding eye contact—just… not himself.”

Uraraka tilted her head. “Was it a mind-affecting quirk?”

“No. It was weird. The villain kept saying strange stuff, like… we had tension or something. The quirk looked pink, kind of foggy. Like mist.”

Mina’s eyes widened. “Wait. Was the villain hot? Or like… sexy in a weird way?”

You blinked. “Uh. I mean… no? Just creepy.”

Mina leaned forward, suddenly excited. “Girl, I think it was a lust quirk.”

Yaoyorozu’s eyes widened. “That would explain the symptoms. Heightened arousal. Sensitivity. Mood imbalance.”

“You’re saying Shoto’s—”

“—basically dying of sexual frustration right now,” Mina finished, dead serious.

Your mouth dropped open.

“I-I didn’t mean to—I helped him back to his room earlier, I didn’t know—he was all flushed, and I thought he was feverish!”

Momo gently laid a hand on your knee. “If that’s what it is, he’s probably overwhelmed and embarrassed. But the quirk will fade. It always does.”

“Yeah, but,” you said softly, voice tight, “I left him alone. What if he’s not okay in there?”

Uraraka gave you a gentle nudge. “Then maybe you should go check on him again.”

Mina smirked. “Just, uh… knock first.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning as the girls giggled and Momo offered a supportive smile.

You excused yourself from the table as soon as you could, and walked to the stairs. You climbed up the stairs two at a time. The hallway felt colder than usual as you made your way toward Shoto’s room.

You hesitated in front of his door.

Was this really a good idea? The girls had all but convinced you it was a lust quirk—and if that was true…

You took a deep breath and knocked softly.

Silence.

“Shoto…?” you called, pressing your ear lightly against the door.

Still nothing. But then—you heard it.

A muffled gasp.

The noise worried you a little. Especially since he hadn't answered you the first time either. You determined he must have not been doing anything too intimate, since you hadn't heard anything else. Your worry and curiosity for the poor boy took over.

“Shoto?” you whispered again, pushing the door open gently.

And then you saw him.

The room was dim, lit only by the low glow of his lamp. His hero uniform was strewn in pieces across the floor—jacket, gloves, undershirt. He sat on the edge of his bed, drenched in sweat, pants shoved halfway down his thighs. His chest rose and fell with heavy, labored breaths, one hand clenched in the blankets, the other wrapped tight around the thick length of his cock—slick, flushed, and painfully hard.

Your breath caught.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours.

For a second, neither of you moved. His face was a masterpiece of desperation—lips parted, cheeks flushed, a single line of sweat trailing down the curve of his neck. His eyes were wild with shame… and something deeper. Something darker.

“Y/n—” he rasped, voice cracking, utterly wrecked.

You stumbled a step back, stunned. “I—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—!”

He groaned and turned away, jerking a blanket over his lap with a shaky hand. “Don’t go…”

That stopped you cold.

“I can’t—fuck—” His voice broke as he hunched forward, hiding his face in his hand. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It hurts.”

You stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering in your chest.

“I tried,” he said hoarsely. “God, I tried so hard to hold it in. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Shoto…” you whispered, taking a tentative step inside.

“You were so close earlier,” he said, trembling. “ I could smell you, feel your warmth, and all I could think about was how perfect you looked… like you belonged there.”

Your knees weakened. “Shoto, the villain—”

“I don’t care about the damn villain,” he snapped, but not angrily. Desperately. “I’ve wanted you since before that fight. The quirk just made it worse. I can’t fucking breathe without needing you.”

The air felt electric. You could barely comprehend what you were seeing—what he was saying.

He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting through the shadows as he looked up at you. “You make everything feel quiet. Peaceful. Like I’m not broken.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“If I let myself touch you… I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

He clenched the blanket, jaw tightening. “You deserve better than that. Better than me losing control like some animal.”

But even as he said it, his hips twitched beneath the fabric.

“Then tell me to leave,” you said, softly.

His breath hitched.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

You step fully into Shoto’s room and quietly click the lock behind you. The soft sound seems to echo in the stillness, heightening the tension that already simmers in the air.

“Then don’t, Shoto,” you whisper, voice trembling with emotion.

His breath catches as he looks up at you—eyes wide, glassy with disbelief, as if his mind can't accept that this is real even as his body aches for you. His gaze roams over your figure, lingering, drinking you in with something between awe and hunger. You shift nervously under his stare, suddenly unsure of what to do next.

You’ve imagined moments like this before—soft, dreamy fragments tucked away in your mind during quiet nights—but now that it’s real, your hands feel too still, your heartbeat too loud. Do you kiss him? Touch him? Say something?

Your eyes flicker downward, catching the way the blanket over his lap rises and twitches with every breath he takes. The shape of him beneath the fabric is impossible to ignore. Just seeing you standing there like this—seeing him barely clothed and willing—is making him grind subtly against the blanket, his face twisting in pleasure so intense it’s nearly painful.

He hisses softly, trying—and failing—to stifle a low moan.

And that’s when it hits you.

He doesn’t need something perfect or rehearsed. He just needs you.

Taking a deep breath, you cross the room and straddle his lap, your knees sinking on either side of him. His breath stutters again, eyes locking with yours as his hands automatically find your waist, large and warm and trembling slightly. His hips jerk upward once, just barely, like his body can’t stop seeking yours.

His fingers dig gently into your sides, groping with reverence and need, as though he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you in his hands. The last of his restraint is hanging by a thread—and you can feel it fraying.

Your cheeks burn as your eyes lower, hooded with desire. “Shoto… don’t hold back,” you murmur. “You can touch me. I want you to.”

His gaze meets yours—dark and unreadable, but smoldering with something desperate and deep. You feel his breath fan across your lips as you slowly reach down and pull the blanket away.

Your eyes widen involuntarily. You knew he was big—had guessed from the way he shifted or adjusted sometimes—but now, seeing the reality of him, it steals your breath. Heat rushes to your face and pools deep in your stomach.

Before your thoughts can spiral, Shoto’s strong hand tilts your chin up, guiding your gaze back to him. And then his lips crash into yours—fervent, hungry, needy. The kiss is all-consuming. It’s not gentle. It’s not patient. It’s a confession. A surrender. A firestorm.

His mouth moves against yours like he’s starved for the taste of you, like you’re the only thing keeping him sane. You gasp into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair, and that sound—you making that sound—shatters what little control he has left.

Everything about you is too much. The way you touched him. The way you looked at him. The softness of your skin, the way your breath caught when he kissed you, the tiny tremble in your voice when you whispered his name. Every second with you is a temptation too potent to bear.

“I need you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice wrecked. “You have no idea how much I’ve needed you.”

And he means it—body and soul.

Shoto flipped you gently onto your back, his touch reverent despite the heat rolling off him like a tidal wave. His lips crashed against yours again—hungry, unrelenting. You could feel how much he needed you in every kiss, every shuddering breath, every shaky brush of his fingers across your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse and barely coherent. “If I’m being too rough… I—God, I don’t mean to be…”

His hips rolled helplessly against yours, the thick heat of him dragging against your soaked underwear, barely restrained. You gasped, your back arching instinctively at the overwhelming sensation.

“You’re not,” you managed, lips brushing his. “I want this. I want you.”

But he couldn’t stop—he couldn’t stop rutting against you, shame and pleasure colliding behind his blown pupils.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to use you—I just… I need you so bad I’m losing my mind…”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, grounding him. “Then let me help you,” you whispered. “You don’t have to hold back.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a sob, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips stuttered and trembled. You felt him tense—and then melt into you with a breathy gasp, his whole body shivering in release. Shame crept into his features immediately, his eyes flickering away, jaw clenched like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

But you cupped his cheek gently.

“Hey,” you whispered. “It’s okay. I’m still here.”

He kissed you again, slower this time—aching, longing, as though he couldn’t believe you were real.

And then his hands reached for your shirt, brushing it up slowly, hesitantly, until you nodded. His breath caught as each inch of your skin was revealed—his gaze hungry but awestruck, like he was looking at something sacred.

“Can I…?” he asked, voice trembling.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart pounding.

But when he began to shift, ready to press himself to you again, you touched his chest, stopping him gently.

“Wait,” you said, flushed. “You’re… really big, Shoto. I need to… prep a little first.”

His eyes widened, and he nearly choked on a breath. “Oh. Right—I—I didn’t think—”

His hands gripped the sheets beside you like restraint was physically painful.

“I’ll just—start slow,” you murmured, even more flustered now.

You slid a hand between your thighs, trying not to focus on the fact that he was watching—completely still, utterly silent. But when your fingers dipped past the hem of your underwear, he whimpered—actually whimpered—like he was in pain.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed. “Everything you do—every little movement—it’s…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

You gasped softly as your own touch teased along your entrance, trying to ease the tension inside you. It was vulnerable, messy, and deeply intimate—but the way Shoto watched you made it feel sacred. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted, and his hand twitched—itching to touch you.

“I can’t,” he breathed. “I can’t just watch…”

He knelt between your thighs, and before you could stop him, he took over—his fingers brushing yours aside, sliding in so gently, so perfectly it made your breath catch.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, voice shaking with restraint. “I want to make you feel good… not hurt you.”

You moaned, clutching his wrist as he moved inside you, curling his fingers just right. The pleasure hit fast—your body already hypersensitive from everything that had come before. When your release crashed over you, it made you tremble, thighs locking around his hand as you cried his name.

His jaw clenched. He looked at the wetness coating his fingers—then brought them to his mouth.

“Oh my god…” he groaned as he tasted you, eyes fluttering shut like he’d been starving and just got a taste of heaven. “I’ve waited so long to know what you taste like…”

And he didn’t stop there.

He leaned in, slowly, reverently, and lowered his mouth between your thighs as he pulled you underwear aside.

The last thing you saw before you cam again was the look in his eyes. It was as though they were screaming "I worship you".

“I’ve wanted to take my time with you,” he murmured, lips brushing your thigh as he just finished making you see stars with his tongue against your pussy. “But I don’t think I can tonight.”

You exhaled, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Then don’t hold back.”

His hands explored your skin like he was learning it by touch alone—slow, sure, until he reached the waistband of your underwear.

His fingers hooked around the fabric, but he paused.

“Tell me again,” he breathed, his forehead pressed to yours. “That you want this. That you want me.”

“I do,” you said without hesitation. “I want you, Shoto. All of you.”

He groaned—deep and quiet—and tugged your underwear down, revealing all of you to him. His eyes trailed down your body, reverent and ravenous all at once.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do. Shoto show me,” you said, pulling him back to you. “Show me how much you want me.”

That’s when he moved—slow, steady. His body fit between your thighs like he was meant to be there. His lips found your chest, worshiping you there, one hand caressing your hip as if grounding himself to the moment.

And when he finally aligned himself with you, his breath caught in his throat.

“You’re so warm…” he murmured, voice breaking as he started to ease in. “So tight. You feel like heaven.”

You gasped softly, your hands gripping his arms. The stretch, the fullness—it was intense. But Shoto never stopped watching you, checking your every expression, every sound you made, as he moved deeper inside.

When he was fully seated within you, he shuddered. His head dropped to your shoulder, and he held you there for a long moment, unmoving.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispered, almost broken. “You’re everything.”

You kissed his temple, running your hands down his back. “Then don’t hold back, Shoto. I want to feel everything.”

He began to move.

Slow at first—deep, rolling thrusts that had your breath catching and your legs tightening around his waist. He moved like he was savoring every second, every squeeze of your body around him, every sound that spilled from your lips.

And then he picked up the pace.

His rhythm became desperate, intense, the bed shifting with the force of his need. He moaned your name into your neck, his grip on your hips growing tighter. Each thrust pushed you further into the bed, and yet all you wanted was more.

“Y/n—God, I can’t—I’m so close—” he gasped, voice rough and trembling.

You cupped his cheek, pulling him back to look into your eyes. “Then let go. I’m yours.”

The moment those words left your mouth, he buried himself deep and spilled inside you with a groan so guttural, so raw, it sent a shiver through your entire body. Not long after that your climax spilled from your tight walls as well, which pulled a shudder from the both of you. He trembled above you, clutching you like you were the only thing holding him to earth.

You held him as he came down, his chest heaving against yours, the sweat between your bodies making you stick to one another. Still, neither of you moved. The only sound was your breathing—steadying slowly as your fingers stroked through his damp hair and the lust quirk finally starting to wear off.

After a long moment, Shoto looked up at you, his expression soft. Reverent. Almost tearful.

“I love you,” he said. “I think I always have.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I love you too. I think I always have too".

[har-rison-s]

whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

talk to me about coryo here

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word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days. 

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being. 

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely. 

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process. 

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood. 

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper. 

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees. 

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all. 

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that. 

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips. 

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words. 

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing. 

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten. 

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him. 

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again. 

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.” 

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going. 

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her. 

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering. 

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise. 

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him. 

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade. 

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?” 

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate. 

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in. 

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough. 

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled. 

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her. 

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over. 

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now. 

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face. 

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release. 

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially. 

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once. 

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination. 

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her? 

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him. 

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n. 

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. 

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there? 

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them. 

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment. 

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood. 

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled. 

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words. 

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further. 

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him. 

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything. 

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[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty: "stop distracting me."

ᰔ pairing: joel miller x reader

ᰔ summary: you try to work from home with a cold, but joel isn't having any of it.

ᰔ author's note: this series has been posted to ao3 and i update it daily :) if that's your preferred platform, you can find it here!

ᰔ content warning: modern!au, no outbreak, comfort

You groaned and laid your head on the desk as you shut your laptop. You were sure your brain had started to leak out of your ears at this point. If you looked at another order form, you were going to throw your laptop out of the window.

There was a knock on the door, slightly ajar from the last time you left your desk. When at home, you had an open door policy for your office. Joel and Sarah were always welcome to come in. The only exception was when the door was closed. If you were in a meeting or working on a deadline, you needed the quiet.

"Come in," you called out.

"You okay, darlin'? It's been a while since you came up for air." Joel closed the door behind him, though he left it ajar.

"I'm fine. I'm just up to my ears in order forms," you sighed. "They haven't looked at these since I came back, so I have a week's worth of orders to go through."

The side of Joel's mouth turned downward, his eyebrows knit together as he tried to think of a solution. He had been a firsthand witness to the last week you had.

You had come down with some sort of illness that left you in bed for the week. Joel was by your side as he nursed you back to health. Even now, he didn't think you were ready to go back to work, even if it was from the comfort of your own office. He had checked on you three times so far today. With each check in, you looked worse and worse.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you should get some rest." Joel laid the back of his hand against your forehead. He sucked in a breath of air; you were hot to the touch.

"If I don't finish these, they'll never get done," you argued. "After I finish this batch, I'll go lay down." You tried to sound more assertive, but you sounded exhausted more than anything else.

"I'll hold you to it," Joel warned. He meant it too. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Oh, I know," you hummed, a bit amused.

Joel left you to get back to work despite his gut telling him to get you to bed. He was often the one to pull you away from your work when you weren't feeling well. While you grumbled at first, you usually thanked him once settled in bed.

He held off for an hour before he was back with a bowl of soup.

"You made this for me?" You asked as you glanced up from your laptop. Joel nodded, the bowl and a glass of water set on your desk.

"I did. You shoulda seen the look on Sarah's face when I broke out the soup pot," Joel chuckled. You grabbed for the bowl and ate a few bites. You almost melted into your seat from the comfort it brought you.

"Thank you. I'm almost done with the batch, I promise." You were trying your hardest to power through, but the words were starting to blur together. That, and Joel's concern sat like a weight on your shoulders. Every word you typed felt like more of a draw to leave your desk and curl up in your husband's arms. Still, you had to power through. The work had to be done whether you wanted to do it or not.

"I know. Call for me if you need me." Joel squeezed your shoulder before he took his leave again. You didn't know it, but he was already preparing for when he inevitably had to pull you away. If you were left to your own devices, you'd stay at your desk and stay glued to it through the night.

You stuck to your laptop for a couple of hours before there was a knock at the door. You were on the last few forms of the second batch you had gone through.

"Joel, I'm almost done," you said without looking up. "Stop interrupting me."

"Not happening. Come on."

You moved your hands as Joel reached over to close your laptop. When you turned around, he frowned. Exhaustion and pain were written all over your face.

"Honey–"

"No, I don't wanna hear it," Joel stopped you, a tone of finality in his voice. You stood from your seat, and he wrapped an arm around your middle. He guided you out of your office and down the hallways of your home.

"It's just a few more forms," you argued. "It'll take me ten minutes." Despite your protests, you didn't fight back as Joel sat you on the bed. He lifted your shirt off of you, and replaced it with one of his own.

"You said that two hours ago. Will you just let me take care of you?" Joel raised an eyebrow as he handed you a set of pajama shorts. You sighed before you nodded and took the shorts.

"The soup helped," you told him as you changed.

"Good. I got some tea boiling that'll help. That one you bought at the market." Joel lifted your side of the blanket once you were in comfortable clothes. He tucked you in and kneeled beside the bed.

Once settled in bed, you felt your body finally give to the sickness you had been holding out on. The throbbing behind your eyes had returned, along with the ache all over your body.

"Can you at least bring me my laptop so I can work from bed?" You were met with two raised eyebrows and a hand on the hip.

"Now why am I going to tell you no?" Joel watched as you faltered against the bed, your grumbles muffled by your rustling under the sheets.

"How dare you care about my wellbeing?" You rolled over and buried your face in Joel's pillow. He rubbed your back before he left the side of the bed.

"I'm getting you the tea. If you get out of bed, I'll drag you back myself," he warned. He didn't wait for a response.

Joel went downstairs to pour you a mug full of tea and took a sleeve of saltine crackers with him. He braced himself to fight with you, or at least argue back and forth, about the work situation. He was quiet as he entered your bedroom.

"If you have a—"

Surprised, Joel shut himself when he saw you passed out in the bed. You held his pillow close as you snored softly. Just as he expected, you were asleep as soon as your body had the chance to rest.

He set the tea and crackers down before he turned off the bedside lamp. Once the room was dark and the curtains were closed, he left you to finally catch up on the rest you desperately needed. If anyone knew what you needed, it was Joel Miller.

[alexa-yukiyu]

hi! Do you mind writing something with a 3y/o child reader and the white beard pirates? Like specifically everyone is celebrating something, and then child reader slips and gets hurt and starts sobbing really loud and all the pirates are panicking?

Parties and Falls (Whitebeard pirates x male!reader)

A/N here we go! And along with this being a request I also wanted to dedicate it to @henrioo since I saw you were feeling down because of the lack of male readers out there and I wanted to cheer you up, this is not one of my best works but im hoping I can make more pieces so that you and all the male readers out there can enjoy and feel included!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which means reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

With a Yonko as a captain and one such as infamous as Whitebeard, one who was able to fight on equal ground with the Pirate King Himself, people usually thought of the Whitebeard pirates as a fearsome foe, and although it was true that you would not want them as foe, behind all that lied a close knitted family who all enyoyed one thing, partirs

With a whole bunch of pirates who could drink whole barrels of alcohol, they are the kind of crew that would throw whole week-long parties with everyone involved, and that was the case right now

Dokucha was not the exception. He always had a grand time when all his brothers were brought together on such a happy occasion

He wiggled his way around his brothers to reach the bar where Ace was currently sitting, struggling slightly to climb the top of the stool.

“Ace-nii, can I drink some of that too?” The boy asked, pointing to one of the pints the flame user was currently downing

“Sorry, lighting bug, you can’t have this.”

He pouts, leaning his head on the counter

“But everyone is having it!”

He chuckles

“Sorry, Dokucha, tell you what, how about you ask Thatch to prepare you something? I'm sure he can whip up something delicious for you.”

The boy lights up at that

“Really?!” He beams, the grin on his face quickly returning

“Yes, really, and make sure to thank him. He should be on the kitchen.”

“Okay!” He exclaimed, excited at the promise of a beverage; however, it was in his excitement that he forgot he was on top of a stool; losing his balance, he fell to the ground, the sound of the chair hitting the wood below being drowned by the cries of the child, the crew quickly sobering up at the sound

The entire crew looked down at the small child who was now crying on the ground; some were already rushing to get to him

Izou was the first to reach the small boy, picking him up and giving him a hug, trying to calm him down

He wraps his hands around his brother, their cries still ringing around the Moby Dick

“H-Hey Dokucha, hey, hey, don’t cry, lighting bug, it’s okay. We’re going to take care of you,” Ace reassures him, gently patting the head of the boy

“It hurts!” He cries

“Where does it hurt?” Ace asks as Marco makes his way over to the two

Thatch follows behind, rushing over

He simply points to his hands, small scratches littering them from their fall to the floor

Marco sighs, igniting his flames and holding Dokucha’s hands, healing all the small scratches. However, this did not lessen the cries of the small boy as tears rolled down his cheeks, hiccups escaping him.

“Buttercup, you’re okay. Look, see, your hands are all better now,” Vista says, joining his brothers in trying to calm down their youngest frowning when he shook his head and dug his head deeper into Izou’s shoulder as he continued crying and screaming

Whitebeard, who so far had been watching the whole ordeal play out, stepped in, gesturing at Izou to hand him over, who obliged

Whitebeard smiled gently at the crying boy in his hand

“There, There was that scary?”

He nods

“Y-yeah, and it hurt.”

“Well, you are alright now; look at you; there isn’t a scratch on you now.”

He cries, looking at his hands, and just as he had told him, there were no marks on his hands

“Breath in and out for me, yes, just like that, see you are okay.”

He sniffles, rubbing his eyes dry

“It was really scary.”

“It was scary, huh?” he says with a soft smile

“You feel better now?”

He nods smiling

“Thank you, PaPaw”

Again it’s not my best works but I really hope you enyoyed and @henrioo I really hope this was able to cheer you up a little, and I will try to write more male!reader from now on!

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[thewitchblue]

"Please, we need you."

Dick was not above begging. He desperately needed your help. You don't bother looking away from cooking your breakfast. He broke into your apartment to plead for your help. Why are they bothering you this time? You retired years ago. You said flatly,

"No."

Of course they would come to you. Your power is biokinesis, and you hate using it. The ability to control the processes within every living thing felt unfair. You could control their blood cells, the photosynthesis of plants, you could use their stomach acid to attack their organs, and there are so many body horrors you can do. You could ruin people. Permanently, if you aren't extremely careful.

You can control vital organs, snap or fuse bones by controlling the calcium, and knit muscle together by manipulating the protein and blood controlling the muscles. It was overpowered, and you felt no joy in your abilities. It's beneficial, yes, but you became their crutch when someone goes rogue, and now that you are retired, you have become their last resort panic button. What's even happening? Did the Justice League become evil again? Doesn't Bruce have plans to neutralise them?

Younger you were in love with being a hero and being the best. Older you now realised how robotic and fruitless the fighting always has been. You gave up your suit. You gave up that life.

"Hate to break it to you, cupcake, but you're needed. Get in your suit."

Jason said as he, too, crawled in your window. He paused to look at Dick. They appeared to have the same idea to recruit you without discussing it among themselves. You sighed. You don't even have your suit anymore. You got rid of it to stop the temptation to return. You retired. You're done. Why can't they respect that?

"Even if I wanted to, I destroyed my suit. I'm not going out there."

The eldest brothers looked at each other as Tim also crawled in. What is this? A clown car? Where did he come from? Tim admitted sheepishly,

"We made a spare suit for you. Y'know... just in case you came back?"

He was rudely shoved out of the way by Damian. The two glared at each other for a moment before both of them gave up on their combined annoyance. Dick said,

"This is an emergency. Every other hero has been taken over except us."

You shut off your stovetop and plated your pancakes with a scowl. They deal with something like this monthly. What is the big issue now? You grabbed your fork and maple syrup.

"This happens all the time. Why do you need me now?"

Silence followed your question. None of them wanted to admit why they came to you. After a long moment of silence, Dick, ever the leader, decided to tell you since nobody else was saying anything,

"Bruce has been taken over as well."

You nodded. That makes sense then. Bruce is their beacon. Who they all turned to for any plan when there is little hope left. Still, you didn't want to come back.

"Constantine?"

"Out of commission."

"Plastic man?"

"Taken over."

"Wally?"

"Outrunning it, but unable to help."

You groaned. Obviously, they would take the League first and foremost, but the backup heroes are also taken over? What about the all of the other solo heroes?

"Am I really your last option?"

You were perplexed. Why are you among the last to be mind controlled? Was it something in the food? Tim shrugged. He explained,

"You were a missing hero. They don't expect you to come out of retirement."

You took a bite out of your pancake as you contemplated what to do. They obviously need your help, but the fight would be taxing. You're out of practice, too, so you'll be more tired than previously.

Nobody can fight someone who could fry their brain or fuse their muscles together to prevent movement, but it would take a lot out of you to fight so many heroes at once. You finally said,

"Let me finish my breakfast first."

And so they all awkwardly lounged around your apartment as you ate, to your amusement and their stress. They all felt a timer going off, but you felt like dragging your feet until you could feel your responsibility to the world suffocate you.

"When did you take this picture?"

Jason cried in outrage, holding one of your various framed photographs. You snickered. That's the photo of Jason cuddling with Artemis, clearly asleep but Jason was smiling so serenely and she was clearly trying to struggle away from Jason's iron grasp without waking him up like a trapped bunny struggling against the inevitable.

"And when did you take this?!"

Dick said as he held up his favourite plushie that you stole. He had to buy a new one after months of searching. In your defence, he never came to you and never asked for it. You said defensively,

"It was a souvenir! I took something from everybody. I stole Tim's old Superboy shirt that's honestly kind of embarrassing. Why is Kon shirtless, Tim?"

Tim decided it's best not to answer that question. Kon gave it to him. He found it in a store in Thailand and decided it was funny enough to give to Tim. Neither of them talk about it now, and it turned into a pyjama shirt for when everybody else is out of the house. It was so poorly photoshopped that it would be a shame to throw away. It's better to hide it. They laughed about it every time they looked at it now. Even Bernard found it funny when Tim showed him the shirt.

Damian stared at you with raised eyebrows. What did you take from him? He didn't notice anything missing. You gave him a sharp smile before getting up to do the dishes. You innocently said,

"Jon actually willingly gave me a goodbye picture. Does that cheek kiss mean anything?"

Damian froze as all eyes turned to him. He looked disgusted in the photo, but you could tell there was something there. What's with the Bats pining painfully for the Supes? Bruce isn't any better. They actually kissed (while undercover, but you snapped a photo and blackmailed him for weeks).

"Are me and Dick really the only normal ones?"

Jason was in disbelief. Did they break the Super curse? You scoffed,

"Dick is the only normal one, and even he dated an alien. I know about your past situation with Kara, Jason."

Jason, Jason, Jason. Always the "I'm too tough for love," but he thrives on it.

What is up with all the Bats pining aliens anyway? Tim let his crush go when he aged and met Bernard (who he never shut up about to his friends), Bruce let go of his Clark crush the day after their kiss, but Damian is still hesitant to admit he may be gay and kind of annoyed he is so similar to his father. Even their taste in men are the same, gross.

"Is there a point to your useless questioning, or are you ready to fight?"

Damian asked with crossed arms. You chuckled. He's just mad Jon gave you that photo. You have a lot of photos all over your home. Some petty, some wholesome, some purposely ugly. You had a little bit of everything.

Dick found the photo of Bruce very comfortably kissing a startled Clark. It looked like they were going to make out judging by the way Bruce was holding him and the robbers in the background. Bruce was undoubtedly thinking of a plan, but you managed to snap the picture after locking the tugs into place by fusing their knees together and their wrists to their hips.

Dick decided to question you about this after the fight. Your feet cracked as you walked to the window, drawing their attention back to you. You locked your window and opened it again.

"Fine. I'll fight."

You said before you crawled out of the window. The others quickly followed until everybody realised you had no idea where you were going, so Dick took the lead. You asked,

"What's the plan then? Am I fighting alone?"

Jason looked at you as if you were crazy. Alone? No. They are too antsy to sit around and do nothing. If they can be useful, they will be useful.

"Never alone, cupcake."

Jason said. You didn't know how to feel about that. They are incredibly useful, yes, but you weren't sure if they would get in your way or not.

You put on the suit in the Batcave with a sigh. Back to this chaotic storm. You said after a pause,

"You'll be the guards then. I'll work on frying the control."

The others nodded. That works for them. They need to be doing something, or they would feel useless.

You all arrive to where Bruce was last tracked to be and found a massive base. You scowled as you eyed the ranks. Most of the sidekicks would be easy to take care of, but the big members were more challenging. The control would be more established.

You decided to target Batman first in the meantime. Batman has everything possible in his utility belt, no matter how unlikely something will happen with the wits to back up his fighting prowess, so he's one of the biggest threats to your crew and you. He's dangerous.

"This is going to hurt."

You warned just before shutting down various parts of his brain. You grimaced as you forced the mind control out of him. It was a battle of wits that Bruce eventually was able to join in helping the more you pushed out.

You closed your eyes and winced. Even with the help, whatever is in control was digging their way through you as well. Bruce was the easiest one with his mental fortitude. What will happen with the others? What will you have to do for Clark? Or Wally with his speedy thoughts? Could you even keep up with his thoughts? The idea made you nauseous already. They are going to be the hardest. Wonder Woman might be the next best target. She'll be the next easiest because of her godly genetics, and she can help in the fight against Superman.

You succeeded in releasing Batman's mind control and immediately moved onto Wonder Woman. She's a massive threat already to the Bats. Batman can join the fight, but even he will struggle with Wonder Woman. He'll have to rely on the others for help while he figured out a way to take her out.

You scowled when you entered her mind. The mind control is becoming smart. It moves locations now. You have to chase it through the brain and even through the nerves and veins in the brain.

It's sentient, you realised. You thought maybe it was just a device or someone else, but no. They are a hive mind of living beings. It's a parasite that you have to chase through their brain to "cut" out. You have to cut their feeding ground.

You hissed in pain as you moved through the heroes. You have no idea how you will deal with the aliens like Starfire and especially the Supes. You had to double-check that you didn't transfer the parasite to yourself multiple times.

There are so many heroes and so many devastating combinations that you had to break up. Everybody was in chaos, but the Bats worked as smoothly as a well-oiled machine. It would be admirable if you weren't so preoccupied with both fighting heroes and killing the parasites.

The League was getting overwhelmed. They were struggling to fight off the horde of sidekicks that they trained, and the solo heroes weren't easy to take down either. You were working as quickly as you could, but these parasites are so quick in their squirming and don't give up. You were trying to fry them out and starve them without causing any lasting damage on anyone. You were so, so, so careful in protecting them that it was slowing you down substantially.

You were also being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. Would it kill the League to stop picking up sidekicks? You managed to share with the telepaths to look out for a parasite and to distract it until you can get to the hero, but they were also struggling by the numbers.

You shuddered. You needed more help. Could you get Constantine to help at all? What about the other magicians? You weren't sure there was any more help to have. The parasites are smart and learn from each other. When one goes down, they all learn. Soon, you'll run out of tricks, and who's to say a similar parasite won't come back again? There could be more out there.

You almost collapsed when you finished the last hero, shivering. There are at least 30 sidekicks turned into newly made heroes, not even counting the League and the solo heroes, but you managed.

Before anybody could hug you or even thank you, you were gone. You slipped away silently, but everybody knew that you saved the world. You were the main and only reason they won.

The earth isn't conquered, and the heroes don't have to be killed by the Bats. You left a note to Batman about everything you learned about the parasite, but you left the clean-up to the telepaths. They can assess any damage done to the heroes better than you ever could.

You did your best to heal the damage done when you had to shut off parts of the brain in your mission, but you know the telepaths will be much better suited than yourself with assessing mental damage. Everybody was perfectly normal and functional, at least, so that had to count for something, right?

You undid all the fused bones and locked muscles as you left the building. The sound of seemingly hundreds of bones cracking back into place again is a sound you wished you weren't familiar with.

The following screams haunted your memory as you watched everybody fall to their knees in agony. You fixed their muscles and bones, so it's to be expected to be agony.

You had to decommission everybody at some point in order to work out the parasite without fuss, so everybody was in severe pain. Nothing but agony follows you, but they are all healthy, and that's all that matters in the end.

You went home after dropping off the suit into the BatCave and collapsed on your couch. Now, you can relax and retire once more. You sighed in relief at the thought. You don't know how many heroes you helped, but it felt like far too many.

You really hated being a hero.

[withahappyrefrain]

"For someone who hates me, you're not pulling away."

Feels like this was MADE for Jake!

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," you muttered, praying your sunglasses would conceal what you were really looking at.

It seemed like a higher being was out to personally spite you. Because not only were you being forced to spend the whole day with the guy you hated,

He looked fucking hot without a shirt.

Of course he did. It wouldn't be fair if he had a physical flaw, the universe had decided it so.

It was supposed to be a bonding experience, pilots versus mechanics. Why was beyond you, considering you actually liked everyone in your current squadron.

Well, except one pilot. A blonde pilot. A cocky pilot. A pilot who thought the sun rose for them personally to shine a light on their ass. A pilot who had become the bane of your existence.

"Hey Rosie!" You ignored the nickname (all because you wore a fucking red bandana) he insists on calling you, turning to your coworkers instead.

"Your not so secret admirer has arrived," your coworker Nicole giggled.

"Please don't remind me. I already have a headache from him and the game hasn't even started," your index fingers rubbed your temples in a vain effort to soothe the dull ache that came from Jake Seresin.

"Well don't look now but he's coming your way," and with that Nicole walked away, no doubt to go flirt with Bob.

"Hey Rosie, looking pretty good," he pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, making it clear he was looking at you.

"You're going to get burnt with all that baby oil, Seresin," you stared at your phone, not wanting to make eye contact. Or to look at his broad chest.

"Aww, you care about me." He was close. Too close. You could see the hair on his broad chest.

"The same way one cares about a dying mosquito," you took a step away, hoping it would deter him.

Jake has the audacity to chuckle, "You're funny Rosie. Why don't we make this game a little more interesting?"

You raised your eyebrows in mocked surprise, "You're actually going to show good sportsmanship? I'm impressed Seresin, miracles really do come true!"

If your comebacks deter him, he doesn't show it, which is honestly the worst part. No matter what you say, it doesn't drive him away. No, it has the opposite effect, encouraging him to continue to try and interact with you!

Fucking Seresin.

"Nah, but God, you're real cute Rosie," he has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you hate so much. His perfectly white teeth are showing as he oozes Hollywood charm. It's the smirk that makes you briefly consider continuing to chat.

"What do you want Seresin?" You grumble, looking down at the sand. The warmth you felt washing all over your body was clearly the sun, nothing (or no one) else.

"Why don't we make a bet?"

"What are you, twelve?"

Again, he chuckled, as if he found your remarks amusing rather than insulting, "C'mon Rosie, there must be something you want."

"For you to leave me alone." If you had looked up from kicking the sand, you would have seen the assured look on his face fall, his brows knitted together in worry, the corners of his lips turning downward.

But you didn't, giving him time to remask, "Alright Rosie, if y'all win, I'll leave ya alone."

The offer made your head shot up, "And if your team wins?"

His grin widens, "You know me Rosie, I'm a simple man." Lies. "There's not too much I want, just one thing really."

"Just name it Seresin."

"A kiss."

He couldn't be serious. He was.

But your crew had prepared for this game. Nicole would certainly be able to distract Bob, was the dagger's dark horse. You felt good about your chances.

So you shook on it.

Which is how two hours later, you ended up in the parking lot, pressing Jake against his stupid Jeep Wrangler, your lips on his, hands tangled in his stupidly soft hair.

"For someone who claims they hate me, you're not pulling away," He murmurs, victory written smugly across his face.

"Shut up and kiss me Seresin."

"Anything for you Rosie."