#he deserves to look like the stray cat he is

[kawoala]

📧 you have two (2) new messages !

@ aizawashouta ˒ 5h ago

“capital-b Bitch”

contents; word count- 564. profanity. kitty!! this is short, sorry. i blacked out writing this. enemies to lovers. neighbors! au.

If there’s one thing you’ve noticed while living in this building, it’s that your neighbor is a capital-b Bitch. You’ve had exactly one interaction and it went something like this:

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I am darkness incarnate. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even think about me. If I hear loud noises from your apartment, I’m breaking the door down to shut you the hell up.”

Okay, maybe not exactly like that, but pretty damn close! He exudes the energy of a ten-year-old street cat who's been through so much shit, that he refuses to trust anyone or anything. He glares at you every time you get your mail, and from what you’ve picked up, he’s the same for everyone else in the building.

Even now, as you’re crouched down outside of the building, rain pouring down on you, trying to give a stray cat some food, you can see him glaring at you from the doorway.

“Come here, kitty,” you coo softly, reaching forward just a little bit. The cat retreats back into its corner and your brows furrow, frowning slightly. “I just want to give you some food, kitty.” You tear some chicken off of the piece you’re holding and toss it over to the cat. It hesitates, sniffing it suspiciously, but inevitably eats it.

His stare is burning into your skin, your brows furrow further at the thought of it. You glance over at him, hoping he’ll get the hint and go away, but his stare doesn’t waver.

You roll your eyes and stand. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?” You put your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes. “You keep glaring at me like this is your cat and I’m trying to steal it, or something.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks closer to you, then past you, crouching down right in front of the cat. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and you peer over his shoulder in confusion.

The cat comes out of its hiding spot, purring and curling around his hand.

Your jaw drops. “What- what the hell? How did you do that?”

He turns slowly, eyes half-lidded, shaded by his hair. “She’s my cat.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. “What?” Your voice is quiet, hands dropping limp at your sides. “Why is she outside then? You must not be a very good cat owner.” You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth. You’ve always prided yourself on being nice to people, even when they don’t deserve it, but that was . . . Not your best moment. “I- sorry, that was rude. Why is she outside?”

He stands to his full height and you take a step back, almost intimidated by his aura. “I work long hours. It’s not good to be kept up in that apartment all day.” He walks by you again, brushing your shoulder as he does so. “She didn’t come to you because she doesn’t really like chicken. She only ate it because she’s gluttonous. Try fish next time; all cats like fish.”

“Oh,” you breath out, shoulders slouching in defeat. The cat follows him as he walks inside, swaying its tail in an almost mocking manner. “Bye, kitty,” you whisper, frowning.

Okay, so maybe he’s a Bitch, but he’s a Bitch with a cute cat.

[narancias-headband]

Guess my notifications were off for this blog entirely. I forgot it existed oops. Will assess the inbox and put in an effort to finish vanquish that one damn fic (it is now my enemy).

But I wanted to show you guys what I bought once I got my first paycheck from my new job :)

They finally made an Okuyasu figure that wasn't super ugly 😭

And I'm going to a convention this weekend! So maybe I'll post some pictures from there/of shit I buy there soon too. :)

[antennatoheaven]

i called my dad and talked for like an hour but he interrupted himself in the middle of a conversation to greet his cat by singing a little song to him which implies he does this frequently I love him so much :')

[danketsuround]

tumblr doesn't care about my kuwareiko cringe compilation but i want to post these and not expand on them at all because i feel like they speak for themselves.

i regretfully did not screenshot the "i've been keeping up with your accomplishments" line (*camera cuts to me being dead on the floor*) (keeping up with her!??!?? even though she shut him out???? ohhhhh myg) and also the part in the finale oh my gah (*camera moves and shows me being dead on the floor in a different spot*) (you know what i mean) (HOLDING HANDS?)

but aside from these i also like the implication that kuwana doesn't even care if he dies as long as reiko isn't compromised. then kuwana practically groveling simply because he wanted to speak with her again, making small talk even under the time constraint. reiko's coldness towards him when he calls her for the first time in years, but balancing herself on him when things start to fall apart. they leech on each other so much. just very sad pathetic and desperate normal people.

i don't even know what to say other than ASKHDSKDHSJDHDJDHSJDGWJS because i get it so much but it's hard to put into words, how they are very sad people who are unfortunately very attached to each other. not a "we would find each other in any universe" pairing, but a "we found each other in this one terrible and preventable instance, coincidentally, but feel bonded because of our involvement in all of it"--or something.

and kuwana feels so indebted to her, she could do anything to hurt him but chooses to hold him instead. (*CUT TO ME DEAD IN YET ANOTHER CORNER ROTTING AWAY*)

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

“ok last week sucked total ass but this weeks gonna be ok” (my cat gets out because someone left the door open) (i know for a fact it was not me!!! because i was putting groceries away by the time everyone else got in the house!!!!!!)

update he came home everyone cheer goodnight.

[oceantornadoo]

Could you maybe write a fic for Simon pursuing a reader who has no experience despite being in her early 20s?

(disclaimer: this ask said early 20s but i didn't really focus on that exact age for reality and inclusivity purposes)

you like to think you're a pretty calm person. have to be, for the kind of work you do - can't be a hothead when you're dealing with hundreds of other hotheads (a.k.a. military men). that environment, seeing the vicious effects of too much testosterone and loyalty to those who don't deserve it, has led you to this predicament. a lack of experience with men. all the ones you've met are loud or self-absorbed and your work is so time-consuming so that when you've found yourself at this precipice, you realize you have no experience to guide you. only a few drunk kisses and one teenage crush to act as the map for the journey you're about to take.

it was odd, how easily you fell into simon riley. he duped you into your first date, calling it a celebratory post-mission dinner when in reality, he'd had the reservations for weeks. it progressed smoothly from there: coffee and ice cream and a scary movie you didn't want to see alone. a few weeks later and you let him into your sacred apartment, a couch no man had ever sat on. he was so respectful, soft words and light touches to get you comfortable with him.

you intrigued simon. it was like befriending a stray cat; one wrong move and he'd be out in the hall. he'd asked around (a.k.a. asked johnny) and found out you'd never dated anyone on base. not surprising, he hadn't either, but your skittish nature led him to believe you'd never dated anybody. you were comfortable with men, sure, but you'd never made any moves on simon despite seeming to like him so much. if he were a less confident man, he would think you weren't interested, but it was in the way your eyes lingered on him, the glances you shot him when you thought he wasn't looking. he decided a conversation was necessary to clear the air so he didn't keep handling you like a bomb that could go off any second.

the two of you were watching footie, a bowl of popcorn in the middle. your hands brushed occasionally as you ate, your knee touching his, but nothing further. simon was well practiced in restraint, and he would wait as long as he needed to, but he felt like he was operating blind, no night vision goggles in sight. "love." it was like flipping a switch. you jumped up, snatching the popcorn bowl and murmuring something about supplying a refill even though it was more than halfway full. he let you have your freakout in the kitchen, giving you time to collect your thoughts. finally, you came back ten minutes later, hand shaking slightly as you put the bowl back down, which was decidedly not full. "can i ask you somethin'?" his hand gripped your knee before you could get up again, settling you back on the couch. your eyes were wide, searching his at a rapid speed as you tried to figure out what he was asking.

"w-what?" he started stroking your knee slowly, thumb brushing over the fabric of your sweats. he didn't answer right away, letting the rhythm of his thumb calm you until your shoulders dropped a fraction. "do i scare y'?" he murmured in a low tone. your shoulders dropped completely, your head collapsing on the couch behind you. you figured it was time to have this talk anyways. "no, it's nothing like that. i trust you, si." he nodded, checking a question off his list. his thumb was still stroking you, the motion anchoring you to the moment. "did someone hurt y'? before me?" you shook your head. "no, it's nothing like that. i just-" you cut yourself off, biting your lip. you chanced a glance at simon, his face open and patient. "i just don't have a lot of experience with men. and it makes me nervous, thinking i'll do something wrong." simon nodded in understanding. "'s while y're so jumpy. how much experience?" you muttered your answer too low for him to hear. "wot?" ugh. "none." oh. oh.

simon was rewriting scripts in his head. no experience was not what he was expecting, but it didn't put him off. if anything, he felt honored you picked him to give you experience. "doesn't matter, love. we can go 's slow as you want. just gotta tell me what y' want." your hand covered his on your knee. "i want you, si. i just don't know how to show it." he squeezed your knee. "trust me?" you nodded instantly. suddenly, you were being moved, strong hands around your waist dragging you into simon's lap. he arranged you into a straddle, setting you back on the middle of his thighs. simon didn't want to give you the wrong idea by putting you on his cock so soon. there was time.

"ya ever kiss anyone?" you gave him a small smile. "not sober. none that i really remember." he laughed, the feeling vibrating through his chest down to his thighs. it was exhilarating, being so close to him and not being scared. you were still nervous, sure, but there was less expectation hanging over your head now that you had talked. "c'mere. we'll take it slow. close your eyes." he sat up a little, a hand on your hip preventing you from being jostled. you closed your eyes obediently, lips parting slightly with the exhale of your breath. you could feel his body heat come closer. he brushed his lips against yours, pulled back, and then gave you a real kiss.

you weren't sure what to do. you had listened to enough advice podcasts to know you shouldn't use any tongue, but that was it. his lips were soft, if a bit chapped, pressing against yours deliciously. he felt so close, so intimate, and you pushed back against him, just a little. it melted your heart a little as he pushed back, warm and willing. your hands instinctively dove into his hair, finally feeling those strands you'd been dreaming about. it went on and on, experimenting with little licks and bites as you got more confident. unfortunately, the more passionate you became, the less air in your lungs. you pulled back with a gasp.

"fuck." his lips were swollen and red, his hair sticking up at all angles. ravished. "good?" he asked, licking his lips. you nodded. "can we do it again?" the eagerness would have made you cringe if you didn't want it so much. "yeah, baby, anytime you want. c'mere."

--

i hope i did this justice!! my first kiss was terrible but i was also 14 so i think it would be better with an experienced man lol

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Jason stepped into Wayne Manor, he looked more like a stray cat than a boy. When Bruce introduced him to you—you couldn’t help but notice the defiance in his eyes, like he expected you to reject him immediately. But instead of recoiling from his rough edges, you smiled and offered your hand. It was the first moment Jason felt truly seen.

Jason didn’t know what to do with kindness, especially not from someone who looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re going to love it here,” you said warmly, still holding out your hand.

He didn’t take it, but he didn’t forget the gesture either. That moment rooted itself in him, and he clung to it in the months to come.

You were the first person to make him laugh in years. It started small—quiet chuckles he tried to hide—but eventually, you had him cackling so hard that tears streamed down his face.

You were unlike anyone Jason had ever met. While Bruce was the stern, brooding authority figure, you were warmth and understanding. You treated him like an equal, never pitying him for his past or scolding him for his sharp tongue. You’d sit with him during his training, patch him up after patrols, and listen to him vent about the unfairness of Gotham’s streets. Jason began to feel that you were the one good thing in his life—a tether to keep him grounded.

Even in those early days, Jason couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy whenever you spent time with others. Whether it was Dick dropping by the Manor or Bruce pulling you away for a mission, Jason would watch, his jaw clenched and fists tight. You were his sanctuary, and the thought of sharing you with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jason always found reasons to keep you close. He insisted on sparring with you during training, claiming no one else could push him like you did. He memorized the way you moved, the sound of your laughter when you managed to pin him, and the way your eyes narrowed in concentration. He lived for those moments.

Whenever you went on patrol, Jason was there, watching your back like a hawk. At first, you thought he was just being protective, but over time, his behavior grew more intense. If a thug so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Jason’s fists would leave them unrecognizable. “They deserved it,” he’d mutter, his knuckles dripping with blood, his gaze softening only when it landed on you.

Jason began planting seeds of doubt about everyone around you. He’d point out flaws in Dick’s plans, subtly criticize Bruce’s parenting, and even question Alfred’s judgment, all to make you feel like he was the only one you could truly rely on.

When Jason died, it shattered you. The boy who had been your closest friend, your partner in everything, was gone. Bruce tried to comfort you, but nothing could fill the void Jason left behind.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, his first thought was of you.

You. The only light he’d ever known. The one thing that kept him tethered to humanity. And you hadn’t saved him.

His obsession became worse, this bitter, consuming need to make you pay for abandoning him—and to keep you. Jason spiraled, his love for you warping into something darker, something unrecognizable.

Jason stalks you now, though he doesn’t see it that way. He calls it watching over you. You’re his, and Gotham is dangerous, especially with the Bat family’s enemies constantly circling.

He knows everything: where you go, who you talk to, what makes you smile. The line between love and control blurs with each passing day.

Sometimes, he visits you in secret. You’ll come home to find your favorite meal waiting on the counter or a new book sitting on your bedside table. Other times, you’ll catch glimpses of him in the shadows—just a flicker of red and black before he’s gone.

And then there are the times he lets himself be seen. He’ll stand in the middle of your apartment, waiting for you to come home. His voice is low, almost dangerous, as he says, “You don’t lock your windows, princess. Someone could get hurt.”

You try to confront him, try to reason with him, but Jason isn’t the boy you knew. He’s sharper now, more unhinged.

“You think you can just forget me?” he growls, pinning you against the wall. “You think you can move on, live your life without me? That’s not how this works princess.”

Jason’s obsession manifests in unpredictable ways. One moment, he’s protective and tender, swearing to keep you safe at all costs. The next, he’s violent and possessive, tearing apart anyone who gets too close to you.

He’s killed for you, though he’d never admit it. That coworker who flirted with you too much? Dead in an alleyway. The stranger who catcalled you on the street? Beaten within an inch of their life.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something raw and desperate. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you. I’ll take care of it.”

You try to push him away, but it only makes him cling harder. Jason doesn’t see the line between love and obsession. To him, it’s all the same.

Jason’s ultimate goal is simple: to have you. To keep you with him, away from the dangers of Gotham—and away from anyone else.

“I’m not asking, princess,” he says one night, dragging you into his arms. “I’m taking you. No one else gets to have you. Not Bruce, not Dick, not anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let you go.”

And maybe, deep down, a part of you doesn’t want him to. Because for all his madness, Jason is still Jason—the boy who made you laugh, who understood your pain, who loved you in a way no one else ever could.

But at what cost?

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[ohmy-gojo]

jjk as cats with you as their caretaker au ෆ

you were just a simple employee at a cat adoption center. for most people it would be a dream, getting paid to take care of kitties? hell yeah. it was yours for a long time, but now..

"satoru, suguru. how many times have i told you both to not go outside?"

the white and black cats stared at you sheepishly, caught red handed trying to leave the shop. you had closed the shop, which meant no going out now. they both were the troublesome duo, always causing chaos. satoru tried to appease you by rubbing his head in your leg which made you crouch down and pat his head. this action however irked suguru, causing him to meow angrily at the white cat and jump to your arms

"oh hush, stop being so possessive suguru. satoru deserves love too, everyone deserves love here," you paused then took them both in your lap "well everyone except sukuna, thats why hes in the cage."

at your words the unusually colored red cat hissed angrily, giving you a stink eye. can cats even make such expressions? you honestly dont know. maybe the lack of sleep is getting to you. satoru and suguru simultaneously looked at him haughtily, flexing to not be stuck in the cage, rather in your arms

"everyone should be like kento here, hes such a good cat. isnt that right ken?"

you left the black and white cats to check kento— whom you affectionately call ken, sitting in his cat couch unbothered. you in fact have nicknames for every cats here but only call them that when theyre not being naughty. which means you call kento 'ken' all the time, much to the annoyance (and jealousy) of other cats

satoru and suguru's faces fell at the sight of you leaving them, giving a whining mewl. sukuna smirked at their frowny faces. 'heh.. karma' he thought in cat language

you took kento in your arms and gave him rubs. "youre such a good boy ken, arent you? yes you are, yes you are!— the goodest boy,"

kento preened at your words and huddled closer to your arms. hes always on his best behavior to get this treatment. he looked down on satoru and suguru, giving them a look of superiority

you were now walking around with kento in your arms, you already closed the shop so you just gotta leave for home. suddenly you remembered about the other cat, choso. whom you haven't seen in quite some moments

"shit!" you hastily put kento down much to his dismay "have any of you seen choso??""

sometimes you thought you were going crazy. here you were asking them questions as if they could answer. maybe you should quit and start therapy

but thats a problem for later! now you had a cat to find. in a hurry you accidentally stepped on something.. soft. which was chosos tail, he hissed in pain from his position under the chair where he was sleeping

at this satoru, suguru, sukuna laughed. even kento let out a quiet snort. in cat language of course. they already knew where choso was, opting to stay quiet instead.

"im so so sorry cho!!" you held the brown cat face to face with you, "forgive me?"

the brown cat pouted at you before finally accepting your apology with a quiet meow. you smiled happily and peppered his face with kisses. choso was now a happy cat. the others? well not so

sukuna, sick of you giving all these stray cats (deregatory) affection meowed loudly to get your attention. he then did something he absolutely hated but since he was desperate... he gave you kitty eyes (cat version of puppy eyes) you stared at him for some time before sighing heavily

"yeah yeah, im gonna get you out now. maybe don't scare away customers anymore?" you rolled you eyes but took out the keys to unlock his cage, he knew this method would work. "but who am i telling this, you still gonna do that no?"

sukuna just stared at you innocently, tilting his head. you scoffed but took him in your arms at the same time. you looked down at the four other felines who were at your feet, eager to be picked up. they were truly spoiled. weird thing is, they only ever acted this clingy and affectionate towards you, not other people or even their owner, mr. gege (they hated him for some reason, especially satoru). you stared at their hopeful blinking eyes and sighed again

"okay okay, you all can come to stay at my home tonight."

they all cheered. you once again thought you were mad to think cats can cheer. but oh well.

[elysianightsss]

Just a little price thot🥰🌸

You meet Price in a supermarket. Bumping right into him, more like slamming into him. The pint of chocolate ice cream and box of extra soft tisses that were safety tucked in your arms going all over the floor. Moving rather swiftly for a beefy man of his size, he quickly darts to the ground to grab the dropped items.

He’s so careful about the way he gives them back to you, holding them out to you with a small smile. The comfort items look so much smaller in his hands than they did in yours, he doesn’t even have them all the way out to you. They’re practically against his stomach, unconsciously encouraging you to come to him for them.

Then you look into his eyes and you think you feel your knees going weak, he definitely feels his buckling. The way you blink up at him with your pretty eyes all teary with smudged mascara and your soft lips formed into a sad little pout.

The words who did this he instinctively wants to say die on his tongue when he realises you aren’t his to protect, you don’t even know each other. Strangers, and he already wants to fight your battles without even know what they are.

“M’sorry.” You sniffle.

“Not a problem little darlin.” It’s a deep rumble from within his chest when he speaks. Thin lips curving up slightly, his bushy moustache moving with them, those thick mutton chops and that full beard catching your attention too. His voice is gruff and accented. You reckon you could listen to it every second of the day and never want for silence.

John was there from then on. He was just there, had inserted himself into your life, almost like a stray cat you feed once and suddenly it comes back everyday. This gorgeous older man had simply become a part of your day to day life.

You’re heading to work? He’s giving you a lift in his black chevy truck. You’re on your lunch break? He’s luring you outside for a cute little picnic in the park. You’re finishing work? He’s taking you back to your place and staying. He’s cooking you dinner, massaging your tired body. Lingering touches and longing stares. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he fancied you.

Especially when it came to you dating other guys. He’d hate when you’d come home after a date, he’s in your apartment obviously waiting for you to return, and you’re all sad it didn’t work out. Questioning yourself and your worth or beauty. It would have Price’s ruggedly handsome face contorting in anger.

He would tell you no man would ever be good enough for you. He would also say no one was deserving of you. John would express that although he very much believed that, he would love it if you gave him the chance to try.

You would be so confused what he meant. Only understanding when he would hover over you, caging you in with his tall, burly figure and repeating the words “be mine” over and over again like a mantra.

He caught a look in your eyes at his words, similar to the one he saw when he first met you. It was clouded with confusion and want but it was there. Price knew. It was so obvious he wondered how no one else had seen it. But he knew, one look into your pretty eyes and he knew you needed taking care of. And the retired vet was more than happy to fill that role in your life.

[propertyofwicked]

SMITTEN - LN

ln x reader, platonic!grid x reader SMAU

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open ✧

warnings: none, just a little swearing throughout - also she's a short one

masterlist the playlist

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

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yourusername 10 years ago today, i competed in my final karting race in order to pursue my dream career - and i would do it all over again, especially when i still get to spend my days with these losers

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pierregasly

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yourusername thank you mclaren for having me today! trying to get the drivers to sit down and answer my questions may have shaved a few years from my life but i had fun regardless!

check out the video on youtube now!

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mclaren thank you for babysitting! 🧡

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yourusername taking a break from being your favourite journalist to become the ultimate stray cat whisperer

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yourusername test drive

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username3 test drive? THE CAR OR LANDO?

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yourusername back to work, and back to mercedes for the first time in a while! keep your eyes peeled for some race week content coming your way!

tagged: lewishamilton, georgerussell63

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georgerussell63 right well that's just cruel y/n. please violate lewis JUST ONCE

⤷ yourusername lewis didn't have a habit of running me off the track repeatedly

⤷ georgerussell63 that was ONCE. 14 YEARS AGO.

⤷ yourusername that's a strange way of apologising

⤷ username14 sometimes i forget she used to kart with like half of the grid

⤷ username14 like girly out here interviewing her childhood friends every week

mercedesamgf1 i feel like we need context for the last image, y/n

⤷ yourusername there are some things you will never know, admin

landonorris come back to mclaren tf?

⤷ yourusername soon 🤫

username4 lewis actually took part in social content? don't give me false hope i beg of u

⤷ yourusername not only did he take part, but he served cunt whilst doing so

⤷ lewishamilton i don't think i want to know what this means

⤷ yourusername probably for the best grandpa 💖

username15 sorry is everyone just ignoring lando being desperate in the comments?

⤷ yourusername if we ignore him, he'll go away

⤷ landonorris wrong. ill get worse! hope that helps x

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 42,601 others

yourusername cats out the bag

view all 2,671 comments

landonorris milf.

⤷ yourusername im not a mother??

⤷ landonorris *yet.

username3 wait how short is she? 'cos lando is not that tall i SWEAR

maxverstappen1 don't you mean...cougar?

⤷ yourusername you wanna talk to me about age gaps rn?

lilymhe that should be me holding ur hand

⤷ yourusername it still can be babygirl

⤷ lilymhe say less

⤷ alex_albon no please do say more - if im losing my girlfriend id like a full explanation

⤷ yourusername my hairline is still intact?

⤷ landonorris devoured.

username15 does he not get bored of you asking him questions all the time?

⤷ yourusername not really, 'cos when i run out of work related questions i spiral into asking if he's mad at me every 20 minutes

⤷ username6 honestly so real for that

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request some domestic Ford x Reader headcanons? Just how they would live together either before portal or after the portal (or both hehe). Ty!

Given how dedicated Ford is to his work, it’s more often then not did you find him sleeping on or in places he probably shouldn’t, you’d try and make his position a little more comfortable by covering him with a blanket or putting a pillow or two under his head in hopes of preventing a crooked neck.

You’d press a kiss to the top of his head and whispered sweet dreams to him, unknown to you that after everything with Bill Ford had became a light sleeper, and so would feel touched whenever you take care of him in small but meaningful ways.

This sweet yet insufferable nerd would find himself captivated by you so much doing mundane things that he ends up drawing them in his note book subconsciously. So much to the point where when he pulls himself out of his own mind, he finds several two page spreads dedicated to you feeding stray cats, talking and or playing with Dipper and Mabel, giving Waddles a bath, or just you standing in the kitchen first thing in the morning looking haggard but beautiful none the less.

Physical touch is his love language followed by acts of service to make up for the fact that he spends most of his time in the lab more so then by your side like he should as your partner. you knew how much his work meant to him but Ford could clearly see the glimmers of his neglect within your eyes when you tell him you understand that his work was high priority.

It hurt him to know that he was the one causing the distance between you two and he felt as though you shouldn’t compromise yourself just to better suit him and his wants and needs. So he’ll always try to make up for his neglect and try to spend his mornings with you by making you breakfast and bring it to bed for you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. Ford only wanted to repay you for being there for him while condemning himself for not tearing the favour.

‘Normally you’d be in the lab by now.’ You pointed out as you watched as he slipped back into bed with you, something he rarely did since he was more often than not fast asleep on that makeshift bed down in the lab.

Ford feels just how cold his side of your supposedly shared bed was and could only imagine the amount of times where you’ve fell asleep alone, dreaming of the day where he’d come up and join you, only to frequently be greeted with the sight of an empty and cold mattress instead of him.

Why he never comes to your shared room was a mystery to even himself as he felt it went a lot deeper then him just being sleepy, was it because he didn’t feel as though he should share a bed with you after the amount of times he has neglected you for his work? Possibly but he wanted to change that and stop being absent in your relationship.

‘I fear I haven’t been the best of romantic partners as of late and for that I must apologise and make things right by you.’ He replied and you placed a hand over his own, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘I won’t disagree with you there but please take your time Ford, I’m not going anywhere.’ You tell him softy and Ford was once again proven why he didn’t deserve you nor your kindness.

So Ford would slowly start to do things for you that he knew you were less then wanting to do unless it was the last resort whether it be washing the dishes or tying your shoes when the laces come undone and you huff in annoyance. Anything that maybe an inconvenience to you Ford will do for you instead so that you don’t have to bother with it.

He’s got a good memory and knows your likes and dislikes like the back of his hand and he treasures this knowledge greatly, no notebook needed when it comes to you that you feel seen and loved whenever he remembers the little bits about you that would go over someone’s head.

Like how you like your morning drink, how you like your sandwiches cut, your favourite flower, your favourite memory-which was of the time the Mabel drew on him and thrown glitter on his red turtleneck while covering his hands in her sticker collection- and how you loved to steal his turtlenecks because you miss him whenever he’s in the lab.

So he starts to leave his favoured red turtleneck where he knows you frequent as he hides nearby to watch you smile softly and wear the turtleneck for the rest of the day. Whatever made you happy made him happy in return, being in a relationship with him may have not been that easy but he thanked you for staying with him when you could’ve left him.

Listens to you speak and could listen to you talk the day away and it could pertain to anything and everything, Ford just likes hearing you speak passionately about things you loved or have experienced while out in town and come home just to tell him. So much so that he gets this look in his eye whenever you speak about your daily activity that you’d have to stop and ask; ‘what’s with that look in your eye?’

He doesn’t understand what you meant by that and asks himself; ‘what look my dear?’

You: the one that you get whenever you’re really interested in what I’m saying, even if it’s boring.

Ford: because what you’re saying is investing to me, even if it may seem boring to you but to me I’m just being feed more reasons why I adore you.

You burrow your head into the Turtleneck you stole from him because of the feelings he brought out within your chest.

You would return the favour by listening to him speak his mind about the oddities of Gravity Falls in depth and his theories about how many more of them could be out there, waiting to be discovered and documented. He even told you about the time he drop kicked Gnomes once, the mental image of it made you laugh.

Ford is a bit of a homebody when it comes to date nights, not for any reason in particular, other than the fact he wanted to be focused on you and only you. So Mabel helps him plan for these dates in extensive detail, even if it was written in glittery pink gel pen. Most of the time you spend it on the roof of the shack where you can watch the stars come out while enjoying the others company.

It wasn’t much but it was much to you and Ford as you rest your head on his shoulder, take in the fact that he was here with you and inevitably fall asleep on his shoulder after he rests his head atop of your own, whispering sweet dreams to you this time before he manages to carry you back to bed; where this time he joins you and brings you into his arms tightly before falling asleep himself, warning his side of the bed at long last.

Also you probably have to patch him up after he goes out monster hunting, the man maybe smart be he’s often times reckless with himself. Also kiss his scars please he’ll love you for infinity if you did so, and also kiss his hands for he had gotten unnecessarily picked on about and call them his unique gift that he shouldn’t be ashamed of, you thought having six fingers was cool. You’ll have that man melting faster then butter if you do and you get to see his hardened face become soft and tender that you can’t help but smother in kisses.

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (i) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky’s birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa….

word count: 6.6k

warnings: its just fluff, secret birthday planning & a lot of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. i’m thinking of making it a three part series.

masterlist | next part

Steve Rogers looked across the table at you, arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. The room felt warm and quiet despite the weight of the conversation, the faint hum of Stark Tech monitors filling the silence as your words lingered in the air.

Sam Wilson sat across from you, leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in mild skepticism, but there was something softer in his expression—something almost amused.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sam began, tilting his head toward you. “Your brilliant idea for Bucky’s birthday is to—what—borrow Tony’s time machine, go back to the 1940s, and hang out with his family?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the edge of the table. Your voice had a determined edge, but your eyes betrayed a flicker of nervous energy. “I mean… think about it, Sam. When was the last time Bucky had a real family celebration? A moment where he wasn’t running from Hydra or fighting for his life or—” you paused, chewing your bottom lip—“feeling like he’s some kind of burden on the people around him?”

Steve straightened in his chair, his sharp blue eyes shifting from Sam to you. There was a stillness to him, like he was processing your words as if they were mission intel. “You’re not wrong,” he said finally, his voice calm but measured. “But it’s not exactly simple. Time travel isn’t… well, it’s not just a weekend getaway.”

“I know that,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he could build up steam. “I know it’s not simple, Steve, but it’s worth it. You know what this would mean to him. To see his mom & sisters, Steve. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as well, as a slow grin spread across his face. “Y’know,” he said, pointing a finger at you, “I thought this idea was crazy at first, but now I’m starting to think you’re just crazy enough to pull it off. The question is, how do you convince Stark to hand over the keys to his fancy time machine?”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan for that,” you said, brushing off Sam’s teasing tone with a wave of your hand. “Tony owes me. Big time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” You smirked, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression. “Let’s just say it involves a highly classified Avengers mission, a stray cat, and one very expensive pair of Tony’s sunglasses.”

Sam barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Okay, now I definitely want to know.”

“It’s not important!” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. “The point is, I can get Tony on board. But I need you two to back me up. He’s not going to go for this unless he knows it’s not just some ‘sentimental whim.’” You air-quoted the words dramatically, your voice dropping into a passable imitation of Stark’s dry tone.

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that said he was almost convinced but still holding out for the catch. “Let’s say you get Tony to agree. How exactly are you planning to make this work? The timeline has rules. You can’t just drop in on the 1940s like it’s a costume party.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that. Look, I’ve been thinking this through. We’d be careful. In and out, no interference with the timeline. Just… a quiet visit with his family. Maybe a week, max. Enough time for him to have a real birthday celebration. I mean, wouldn’t you want that if you were in his shoes?”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze settling on a spot on the wall. For a moment, the room went quiet. Sam exchanged a glance with you, his humor softening into something more thoughtful. Steve’s voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but firm. “Yeah. I would.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out across the table, your hand brushing against Steve’s. “Then you understand why this is so important. He’s been through so much, Steve. We all know that. He deserves to feel important.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re laying it on thick. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re whipped for the guy.”

Your face went red, but you didn’t back down. “Of course I’m whipped for him Sam, I’m in love with him. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Steve and Sam both froze, their expressions caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

Steve blinked, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, his voice low, “I can’t argue with that.”

Sam recovered first, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re really pulling the romance card, huh?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your voice. “Are you in or not?”

Sam laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m in, I’m in. You had me at ‘time machine.’”

Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “But we do this by the book. No cutting corners, no unnecessary risks. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said quickly, your eyes bright with excitement. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.”

“Alright, so what’s the next step? Do we just march into Stark Tower and ask Tony for a favour.” Sam clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Because I’ve gotta say, I don’t think the guy’s gonna go for it without some serious persuasion.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’ve got a plan.”

Later that evening, the three of you stood in Tony’s lab, the soft glow of holographic displays casting blue light across the room. Tony Stark was pacing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” he said, stopping mid-stride to look at you. “You want me to loan you my multi-billion-dollar time travel machine so you can throw a birthday party in the 1940s?”

“Not just a party,” you corrected, your tone matter-of-fact. “A family reunion. For Bucky.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You know, when I built this thing, I had slightly higher ambitions in mind. Like, oh, I don’t know, saving the universe?”

“This is saving the universe,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “His universe.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s important, Tony. For Bucky. He hasn’t seen his family since the war. This would mean everything to him.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You people really know how to tug at the ol’ heartstrings, don’t you?”

Sam smirked. “Comes with the territory.”

There was a long pause, and then Tony shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But if you break it, you buy it. And by ‘it,’ I mean the space-time continuum.”

You beamed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room had brightened. “Thank you, Tony. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving you off. “Just don’t make me regret it. And keep Rogers out of trouble while you’re at it. Don’t want him to end up fighting someone in the alley.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He had a feeling this was going to be one birthday Bucky would never forget.

That evening, the living room of the Avengers Compound had never felt so cramped. Steve sat in his usual spot, his arms stretched over the back of the couch, trying to look casual while his stomach twisted with the weight of your not-so-secretive plan.

Next to him, you perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, your knee bouncing nervously as your eyes flicked between the TV and Sam. The movie playing on the screen was some action flick that none of you were actually watching—except maybe Bucky, who was obliviously sprawled out on the recliner, munching on popcorn.

Steve couldn’t help but glance at Bucky every few seconds, half expecting him to suddenly leap up and call their bluff. It was a ridiculous fear, considering how utterly relaxed Bucky seemed, but it didn’t stop Steve’s heart from racing every time Bucky so much as turned his head.

Sam, seated on the armrest of the couch, leaned over toward you and murmured under his breath, his tone just loud enough for Steve to catch. “So, what’s the next move, mastermind?”

Your lips twitched into a quick, nervous smile as you shot him a sideways glance. “We need to talk to Strange,” you whispered, your voice low but brimming with determination. “But we have to be careful. Bucky can’t know. Not even a hint.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and slouched slightly, doing his best impression of someone who actually cared about the car chase on the screen.

“Can you two stop whispering?” Steve whispered yelled, though his voice lacked any real authority. He reached for the remote, fiddling with the volume button and turned it up. “If you’re going to conspire, at least don’t do it two feet away from him.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “What do you want us to do, Steve? Write notes and pass them like we’re in fifth grade?”

Sam smirked, leaning closer to you. “I mean, it might be safer. He’s got super-hearing. For all we know, he’s—”

“Sam,” Steve cut in, his tone warning, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not helping.”

Bucky, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him, let out a low chuckle at something on the screen. Steve froze, his eyes darting to you, and you looked like you were about to jump out of your skin. Your eyes flicked back to Sam, then to Steve, your expression screaming this is impossible.

“Alright, alright,” Sam said quietly, lifting his hands in surrender. “Let’s just get out of here before you two have a nervous breakdown. We can go talk to Strange.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the excuse to move things along. “Good idea,” he said, standing and stretching like he’d just remembered an urgent errand. “We’ll, uh, be back in a bit, Buck.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked casually, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You froze, your face an open book of panic, and Steve jumped in before you could flounder. “Oh, uh… just running an errand. These two are just tagging along for backup.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, finally turning his attention away from the movie to look at you. “Backup? For what?”

“Moral support?” you stated hesitantly.

Sam snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement before he covered it up with a cough.

Bucky gave you all a skeptical once-over but eventually shrugged, settling back into his chair. “Whatever. Just don’t die out there.”

“Got it,” you blurted, grabbing Sam’s arm and practically dragging him toward the door. Steve followed, his stomach knotting tighter with every step.

The three of you didn’t speak until you were outside and halfway to Steve’s SUV.

Sam finally broke the silence with a low whistle. “That was smooth. Real smooth.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks still flushed. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Sam replied, grinning as he climbed into the back seat.

Steve rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door for you to get in & sit, his patience already wearing thin.

Once you were on the road, the tension in the car started to ease, though Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line. You sat beside him, fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you stared out the window. You looked nervous but determined, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Steve studied you for a moment, his mind drifting to all the times he’d seen that same look on your face. It was the look you got when you were planning something big—something you believed in with your whole heart. He couldn’t help but admire you for it, even if it made him nervous.

“So,” Sam said, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his seat, “what’s the game plan with Strange? You gonna sweet-talk him like you did with Stark?”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the window to look at Sam. “I don’t think Strange is the ‘sweet-talk’ type.”

“Good point,” Sam said with a grin. “So what’s the backup plan? Bribery? Begging? Threats?”

“None of the above,” you said firmly. “I’m just going to explain the plan and hope he understands.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No clever strategy? No emotional appeals? You’re really putting all your eggs in the ‘logic and reason’ basket?”

Steve cut in before you could retort. “She’s right. Strange isn’t the kind of guy you can manipulate. He’ll respect honesty.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. You were stubborn, sure, but you were also smart—smarter than you gave yourself credit for sometimes.

When you arrived outside the Sanctum Sanctorum, you were the first to get out of the car, despite the nervous energy radiating off you. Steve followed close behind, with Sam bringing up the rear, muttering something under his breath about “mystical nonsense.”

Stephan Strange greeted you at the door, his expression unreadable as always. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, the red of his cloak catching the door light in a way that made him look almost regal.

“This better be important,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I don’t have time for casual visits.”

You stepped forward, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. “It is important. I promise.”

Strange raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the two men behind you. “Alright. Come in.”

The inside of the Sanctum was just as strange and imposing as Steve remembered. You seemed unfazed, though he noticed you glancing around with a mix of curiosity and awe.

“So,” Strange said once you were seated in his study, “what’s this all about?”

You took a deep breath, your hands resting in your lap. “I want to use the time travel machine Tony built to take Bucky back to the 1940s for his birthday.”

Strange blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “That’s… specific.”

“It’s important,” you said quickly, leaning forward slightly. “I just want him to have a chance to see his family again. To know they’re okay. And I promise we won’t do anything to change the timeline. No interference, no big disruptions. Just… a visit.”

Strange studied you for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re asking me to approve a plan that involves traveling to the past and interacting with people who are supposed to remain unaware of future events. Do you understand how delicate this is?”

“I do,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’ve thought it through. The only thing I plan to do is explain to his family what happened to him—why he disappeared. They deserve to know he’s okay, even if they never see him again. And when I bring him there, it’ll just be for a week. A chance for him to see his family once.”

Strange’s gaze flicked to Steve, then to Sam, as if gauging their reactions. “And you’re both on board with this?”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my birthday, but if it makes Bucky happy, I’m all for it.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It’s risky, but I trust her. She won’t let anything happen to the timeline.”

“You’re lucky I’ve seen weirder requests.” Strange said letting out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. As long as you stick to your word and don’t try to rewrite history, I won’t stop you.”

Your face lit up, and Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. Strange wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, but he’d clearly seen something in your determination that convinced him.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Strange waved you off, his tone dry as usual. “Just don’t make me regret it. And for the love of all things sacred, don’t try to save Barnes from falling of the train in the past. You’ll just make things worse.”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly. “This is about giving him something good now, not changing what’s already happened.”

“Good,” Strange said, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Now get out of my Sanctum before I change my mind.”

As you walked back to the car, your steps were lighter, almost bouncing. You turned to Steve and Sam, a wide grin on your face. “That went better than I expected.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, thanks to your sales pitch.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t lose your smile. For the first time all day, you felt a genuine sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this plan was going to work.

Okay, see the thing was Steve had witnessed his fair share of devotion in his lifetime. He had seen love in wartime letters clutched tightly in trembling hands, in quiet glances exchanged across rooms, and even in the sacrifices people made for each other on the battlefield.

But nothing—not in the 1940s, not in the decades since—compared to the sheer, shameless fervor of your love for Bucky Barnes.

He leaned back against the counter of the kitchen, arms crossed, as he watched you chatter animatedly with Sam and Natasha, your eyes alight with that unmistakable spark. You had this way of talking about Bucky that made it impossible not to notice the utter adoration woven into your every word.

It wasn’t just love; it was full-blown, unapologetic obsession.

“And then,” you said, your hands moving wildly as you recounted some small, undoubtedly inconsequential moment, “he just sat there, all broody, like he was single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. And I said, ‘Bucky, you don’t have to pretend to be a tortured poet every time it rains!’” You grinned, clearly delighted with your own story. “He didn’t laugh, of course, but I swear I saw his lip twitch.”

Natasha smirked, sipping her coffee. “Sounds like a real charmer.”

“Oh, he is,” you said, beaming as though Nat’s comment had been an actual compliment. “You just have to get past the murdery vibe, you know? It’s all part of his charm.”

Sam snorted so loudly that Steve thought he might choke on his drink. “Murdery vibe? That’s the phrase you’re going with to describe your boyfriend?”

“It’s accurate!” you insisted, unbothered by the teasing. “You just don’t understand him the way I do. Beneath all that scowling and brooding, he’s—”

“A ray of sunshine?” Natasha interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” you said brightly, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, again. “He’s my sunshine.”

Steve suppressed a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved you—he really did—but hearing you wax poetic about his grumpy, perpetually unimpressed best friend was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t the first time, either. In fact, it was a near-daily occurrence.

What astounded Steve the most, though, was how far you were willing to go for Bucky.

Time Travel.

Literal time travel, just so Bucky could have one good birthday with the family he’d lost decades ago. Steve wasn’t sure if it was romantic or utterly insane—probably a mix of both. Either way, he couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“So,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “how’s the time travel plan coming along? Did Strange give you the green light?”

“Green as it gets,” you said, practically bouncing in your seat. “He said it wouldn’t mess up the timeline as long as we’re careful. I mean, no big hero moves, no trying to rewrite history, and definitely no saving Bucky in the past.” You paused, your face briefly clouding with thought. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, but you know… rules.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Man, you really would mess with the space-time continuum for him, wouldn’t you?”

You turned to him, your expression dead serious. “In a heartbeat.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the sound low and amused. “Y’know, I’ve seen people go to some crazy lengths for the people they love, but this…” He gestured vaguely, as if words couldn’t quite capture the enormity of your plan. “This might take the cake.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “Steve, if you could go back and give Peggy one more dance, wouldn’t you?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, his chest tightening as the image of Peggy Carter flickered in his mind. He didn’t answer right away, but you didn’t push him. You just gave him a knowing look, your eyes full of understanding.

“Alright, fine,” Nat cut in, breaking the heavy silence. “Let’s not get all sentimental. You still have one problem, genius. Tony Stark. What’s the plan for getting him on board?”

“We already got Tony on board,” you said smugly, folding your arms as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You? You convinced Tony Stark to let you borrow his precious time machine?”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “I just told him it was for Bucky’s birthday, and he rolled his eyes and said, ‘Fine, but if you break it, you’re paying for it.’ Honestly, I think he secretly likes the idea. He’d never admit it, but you know how he is.”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Sam, her expression halfway between impressed and incredulous. “I can’t believe Stark fell for that.”

“Oh, he didn’t ‘fall for it,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just pretends to be all grumpy and detached, but deep down, he’s a big softie.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Man, I think you’ve got a thing for grumpy guys.”

“Only one grumpy guy,” you said, your smile softening. “And he’s worth it.”

Steve looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t used to seeing someone care about Bucky like this—someone who saw him as more than just the Winter Soldier or the guy with a past too dark to talk about.

You saw Bucky. The real Bucky. And you loved him for it.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony strolled in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “What’s all this about me being a softie?” he asked, his tone dry as he leaned against the counter.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re a grumpy softie. Big difference.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, I’d revoke your time-travel privileges.”

“Softie,” you said, waving him off.

Tony smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention to Steve. “So, Captain Sentimental, are you ready to supervise this little field trip? Because I am not cleaning up any timeline messes.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?”

Tony looked you over, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re really doing all this for Barnes?”

You nodded, your eyes shining. “He deserves it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, his usual sarcasm melting away. “Well, good luck, sunshine. Try not to get too lost in the 1940s.”

As Tony left the room, the conversation drifted to logistics—timing, equipment, and all the little details that needed to be ironed out before the mission. But even as you talked, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said.

Sunshine.

Steve glanced at you, watching as you leaned over a map on the table, your brow furrowed in concentration. You might not have realized it, but Tony was right. You really were a ray of sunshine—Bucky’s sunshine, in the darkest corners of his life.

And for that, Steve couldn’t be more grateful.

A few hours later, Steve sat on a folding chair, leaning back slightly as he gazed at the clear night sky. The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint hum of the compound below and the soft rustling of the wind.

Beside him, Bucky nursed a beer, his metal fingers absently turning the bottle in his hand, the soft clink of metal on glass barely audible. Sam was sprawled out in another chair, his legs stretched long, an empty bottle balanced precariously on his knee.

The silence was companionable, broken only by the occasional sip or the muffled sound of Sam muttering about how the stars weren’t visible like this back in D.C. Steve let himself relax for a moment, the crisp air cool against his skin. But, as usual, his thoughts wandered to you and your relentless energy over the past few weeks.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head toward Bucky, “your girlfriend is disgustingly obsessed with you.”

Bucky choked on his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed the wrong way. “What?” he said, laughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Steve smirked, taking a sip from his bottle. “I’m just saying. It’s impressive, honestly. I’ve never seen anyone so… determined to adore someone.”

“Yeah, man. She’s got it bad. Like, embarrassing bad.” Sam laughed outright, his deep chuckle rolling into the night.

Bucky leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head, the grin softening into something fonder. “She’s been like that since day one. But hey, I can’t say much—I’m just as bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Sam said, raising his bottle in mock toast. “Two of you are a real power couple of mutual obsession.”

Bucky just chuckled, his eyes flicking up toward the sky as silence fell over the group again. Steve let it linger, his thoughts wandering to how Bucky’s face softened every time you entered a room, or how his mood lifted when you were around. It was a strange thing to see—the hardened Winter Soldier so easily disarmed by one person—but Steve couldn’t deny how much you had changed Bucky.

Maybe even saved him.

After a few minutes, Bucky spoke up, his voice quieter now. “She’s planning something, isn’t she?”

Sam, mid-sip, choked on his beer, his coughing fit loud enough to make Steve wince. “What?” Sam rasped, pounding a fist against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, keeping his face neutral despite the mild panic rising in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Bucky turned to him, his expression amused. “Oh, come on, Steve. She’s been vibrating with energy for weeks. Every time she looks at me, she lights up brighter than the damn sun. She’s up to something.”

Steve fought to keep his expression steady, his mind racing for an answer. He couldn’t exactly tell Bucky the truth—that you were plotting a time-traveling birthday reunion with his long-dead family. Instead, he opted for the simplest approach: deflect. “Could be just a coincidence.”

Wow Steve well done, what a deflect. Idiot!

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, because her suddenly acting like a kid on Christmas has nothing to do with the fact that my birthday’s coming up.”

Steve’s lips twitched. He wanted to feel annoyed at how sharp Bucky could be, but mostly he was impressed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. Maybe she’s just excited.”

Sam cleared his throat, raising his hands as if in surrender. “Listen, man, I love my life, so I’m not spilling anything. But if she’s planning something, it’s probably just a good old-fashioned birthday party. Cake, candles, maybe some embarrassing speeches. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve nodded, grateful for Sam’s quick thinking. “Exactly. Nothing big. She probably just wants to make it special.”

Bucky studied them both for a moment, his blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I know she’s up to something.”

Steve exhaled, letting some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Bucky didn’t know. Not really. And as long as they kept playing it cool, he wouldn’t find out until the time was right.

That was when they heard it: your voice, ringing out from somewhere below, loud and unmistakable. “Baby! Come down, I need your help with something!”

Sam froze, his bottle halfway to his lips, before glancing at Bucky with a grin that was entirely too pleased. “Baby, huh?”

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She had to call you that now?”

Bucky’s grin stretched wide, his expression a mix of amusement and pride. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, his voice louder than yours. “I’ll be down in a minute, babydoll!”

Steve closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. A six-foot-three super soldier—grumpy, broody, intimidating Bucky Barnes—was casually calling you “babydoll” in front of them like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sam, predictably, couldn’t contain his laughter. “Babydoll?” he repeated, his voice cracking with amusement. “Man, I’ve heard it all now.”

Bucky shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “What can I say? She likes it.”

“And you like her calling you ‘baby,’” Steve added, his tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“Damn right I do,” Bucky said, standing up and stretching. “You two can sit up here and laugh all you want, but I’ve got a girl waiting for me. Try not to get too jealous.”

As he disappeared down the stairs, Sam turned to Steve, still grinning. “You know,” he said, shaking his head, “for a guy who used to be Hydra’s deadliest weapon, he’s real soft now.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got someone who loves you like she does.”

Sam nodded, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s good for him.”

Steve looked out at the stars, his mind drifting again. He couldn’t help but agree. For the first time in a long time, Bucky had someone who saw him—not as a soldier or a weapon, but as a man worth loving. And that, Steve thought, was the best gift anyone could ever give him.

Somewhere in 1946, Brooklyn.

The modest brownstone on Brooklyn’s east side stood in quiet defiance of the bustling world around it. Mrs. Winnifred Barnes—Winnie to her late husband and close friends—sat at the small kitchen table, her hands folded tightly together, a pot of tea growing cold on the counter. The house was too quiet now, emptier than it had ever been. Rebecca was at school, and though she tried to keep the chatter alive when she was home, it couldn’t fill the void left behind by James.

Her boy.

It had been several months since the letter arrived, stamped with the insignia of the United States Army. The words blurred in her mind even now, but the message was clear: Missing in Action. Presumed Dead.

Her James. Her troublemaker, her beautiful boy with his wide grin and steady blue eyes. Gone. And no one could even tell her how, or where, or if he’d suffered.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers curling tighter. Every time she thought she had no more tears left to cry, the ache returned, fresh and sharp as ever. But this time, something else lingered—a strange sense of unease, like the air had shifted. It was quiet, but not in the usual way.

Something was coming.

The knock at the door startled her. It was brisk, not hesitant like the neighbors checking in or the pastor bringing by a casserole. Winnie frowned, wiping her hands on her apron as she rose. Her steps were measured, careful, as though the visitor might vanish if she approached too quickly.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a sight that immediately threw her off balance. The young woman standing there looked as though she had stepped out of some dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

Your clothes were strange, fitted in ways Winnie couldn’t quite comprehend, and your hair was loose and flowing in a style that seemed almost scandalous. But it was your eyes that caught Winnie most—a peculiar mix of softness and urgency.

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked, your voice steady but kind.

Winnie hesitated, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Who’s asking?”

You smiled faintly, “I… I need to speak with you. It’s about James.”

Winnie’s heart clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. “James?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“May I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle but insistent. “I promise it’ll make sense. I just need a moment of your time.”

Winnie hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping aside. Something in your voice—or perhaps the way you said James’ name—demanded trust, though it made no sense at all.

The kitchen felt smaller with you standing there, your presence filling the room in a way Winnie couldn’t quite explain. She gestured toward the table, and you sat down without hesitation, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Winnie remained standing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as though bracing herself.

“What do you know about my son?” Winnie asked, her voice firmer now, tinged with suspicion. “The Army already sent their letter. Unless you’re here with new information—”

“I am. There’s something you should know.” you interrupted, your eyes meeting Winnie’s with unwavering determination. “I know this is going to come as a shock but Mrs. Barnes, James isn’t dead.”

The words landed like a bombshell, shattering the fragile quiet of the room. Winnie felt her knees threaten to buckle, but she forced herself to stand tall. “What did you say?”

“He’s alive,” you said softly. “It’s a long story, and I know it’s going to sound… unbelievable. But I promise you, every word is true.”

Winnie sank into the chair opposite you, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain you could hear it. “You’d better start talking, young lady.”

You nodded, your hands tightening briefly on the edge of the table before you began. “When James fell from the train, he survived the fall. But… he didn’t come home because Hydra found him first.”

“Hydra?” Winnie repeated, frowning.

“They were… they are… a very bad group of people,” you explained, your voice tightening. “They were part of the war, working in secret. When they found James, they… they took him. He was badly injured—he lost his left arm—but they didn’t care about helping him. They used him.”

Winnie’s throat went dry, her chest tightening painfully. “Used him? For what?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your words pressing visibly on your shoulders. “They replaced his arm with a metal one. And then… they brainwashed him. They erased who he was and turned him into someone else. They forced him to do terrible things—things he would never have done if he’d had a choice.”

Winnie stared at you, her hands trembling. “You’re telling me… my boy’s been alive all this time, and he’s been… tortured?”

“It’s worse than that,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “They put him in cryo-freeze, a kind of suspended animation. It keeps the body from aging. They would wake him up every now and then, make him do their missions, and then put him back on ice. He was never in control, Mrs. Barnes. Not once.”

The room seemed to tilt, and Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand. If all this is true, why hasn’t he come home? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

“He couldn’t,” you said softly. “Not until recently. But now… now he’s free. He’s safe. And I wanted you to know that.”

Winnie shook her head, disbelief and hope warring in her chest. “How do you know all of this? Who are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m from the future. From 2025.”

Winnie stared at you, waiting for you to laugh, to smile and admit it was all some elaborate joke. But your face remained serious, your eyes filled with an honesty Winnie couldn’t deny. “The future,” she repeated faintly.

“Yes,” you said. “I know how it sounds. But it’s true. I came back to tell you about James because… because you deserve to know.”

Winnie leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. None of it made sense, and yet something about your voice, your demeanor, made it impossible to dismiss you entirely. “If you’re from the future,” she said slowly, “then tell me something else. Tell me about… Steven Rogers.”

Your expression softened. “He’s alive too.”

Winnie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No.”

“He is,” you said, your voice gentle. “He survived when he put the plane down in the water. They found him 70 years later, frozen in the ice, but alive. Just like James.”

Winnie felt tears welling up in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. “They’re both alive,” she whispered. “My boys are alive.”

“Yes,” you said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “And they’re together. Living in Brooklyn. James is free, Mrs. Barnes. He’s been pardoned for everything Hydra made him do, and he’s a hero now. People love him.”

Winnie’s breath hitched, a sob breaking free from her chest. She clutched your hand tightly, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “He’s safe. He’s happy.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Winnie allowed herself to believe it. Her boy was alive. And somehow, impossibly, everything was going to be okay.

Winnie’s hands, now resting limply on her lap, still trembled with the weight of what she’d been told. She didn’t know where to begin. What question could possibly make sense of the impossible? How could you, so composed and confident, sit there and tell her these outlandish, earth-shattering truths as though they were simple facts?

Her James.

Alive. Free. Safe.

But at what cost?

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. Your voice was patient, a warm balm against the storm raging in Winnie’s chest. “I know this is a lot to take in. If you need me to explain anything again, I’m happy to.”

Winnie blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus. Her hands twisted together in her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “You’re telling me my son’s been alive all this time… suffering, being used like some kind of—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, unable to finish the thought. “How could anyone do that to him?”

Your face softened, your expression filled with sympathy. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “Hydra is… they were ruthless. They didn’t see him as a person. They saw him as a weapon. But he’s not like that anymore. He’s found his way back to himself.”

Winnie’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know all of this? You’ve never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

To Be Continued….

[holylulusworld]

Cat shows

Title: Cat shows

Written for @buckybarnesevents HotBuckySummer Week 9: Free Week

Summary: You’re in trouble.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader; Alpine x Reader

Warnings: crack!fic, fun, fluff

A/N: A random drabble.

Catch up here: Shopping trips

“Mrs. Barnes, your husband is here to bail you out,” the cop mutters under his breath. You refused to leave the interrogation room without your cat. You fought tooth and nail, telling them you’re going to sue them if they don’t bring Alpine back to you.

You reluctantly follow the cop out of the interrogation room, grumbling under your breath. Arresting you was unnecessary.

“Doll, there you are,” Bucky jocks toward you. “I was worried sick when you didn’t come home. I thought you wanted to have lunch with your friends, and you were just gone. Alpine too.”

“Oh, yeah…that,” you chuckle. “My friend got this crazy idea to go to this cat show. She said Alpine is too pretty to hide.”

“Where’s Alpine?” Bucky looks at the cop standing next to you. “You! Where is my cat?” The cop swallows thickly when Bucky steps closer. He didn’t miss that your husband is the former Winter Soldier.

“Uh—the cat is…uh,” he stammers. The cop starts to sweat seeing the angry look on Bucky’s face. “The cat will be right there, Mr. Barnes.

You watch the cop run off, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry, Buck. This is all my fault. If only I didn’t listen to my friend. I find these shows stupid and hate how they treat the pets but Alpine looked so pretty with their new collar.”

“What happened?” Bucky gently cups your face. “Baby doll, you got to tell me what happened. I can only help you if I get all the information.”

“Okay,” you sigh deeply. “I attended that cat show with Alpine for fun. We weren’t that bad. Alpine looked cute, and we got a nice ribbon. We didn’t win, but it was fun. Alpine even won some cat food.”

“Alpine won food,” Bucky snickers. “How did you end up at the police station if you won cat food at a show?”

“Uh-“ you drop your gaze and sigh again. “There was this bitch, the one who won all the competitions. She wanted the ribbon Alpine won too, and the food. I told her to leave Alpine alone.” You sniff and glare at the cop carrying Alpine in a pet crate. You can hear Alpine hiss at the man, and smirk.

“I sense there is more to this story, doll,” Bucky presses on. He quirks a brow and you throw your hands up. “Baby, tell me everything.”

“She said Alpine, my pretty princess, and queen of our castle, looks like a mangy stray. She wanted me to give her the ribbon and the food.” You grit your teeth seeing the woman and her spoiled cat walk toward you and Bucky. “I told her if she wants the food so badly, she can have it and—” you grin at Bucky. “I threw it at her.”

“You threw cat food at the lady,” Bucky snorts. He watches the arrogant woman pass you by and laughs. “At least you didn’t threaten to kill her.”

“I was tempted,” you giggle when Bucky snatched the box with Alpine out of the cop’s hands. He rips the box open to free Alpine. Alpine lifts their head and slowly walks toward Bucky, hissing at the cop as they pass him by.

“Come here, punk,” Bucky says as he crouches down to help Alpine jump on his shoulder. “There you go, Alpine. Did you miss me and mommy.” Bucky asks while slowly getting back up.

“Aw, I bet Alpine missed me,” you say. Looking Alpine all over, you sigh. At least your cat didn’t get hurt.

“Sir, you should talk to your wife,” the cop mutters because Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him. “Next time she won’t get away so easily.”

Bucky turns toward the cop like in slow motion. He cocks his head and stares the cop down. Your husband doesn’t say a word. It’s unnecessary because the man murmurs something before walking off.

“You still got it in you,” you purr his name and pat his chest. “You’re scary as shit when mad, baby.” You take his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Let’s get Alpine home. Our champion deserves the best food.”

“Next time you want to throw cat food at someone insulting Alpine, give me a call.”

“See, that’s why I love you,” you giggle as you walk out of the police station, holding hands with your husband. “You’re ready to throw cat food at ladies messing with me and Alpine…”

Tags in reblog.

[versupital]

p is for p*ssy 🐈‍⬛

JJK HALLOWEEN!! getoxreader

sum it up ❥ suguru is cursed to turn into a cat by nightfall, and you are a lonely witch who takes advantage of his human parts during the day.

CONTENT: shapeshifter!geto, modernau, swan lake adaptation, fluffy, soft, praise kink, virgin!reader, unprotected, creampie, overstim, nudity unrelated to sex

word count. 8k

song inspo 💿: west savannah ft. sza

A/N:

to conclude my beloved Halloween jjk series, i am giving our bby geto the soft love story he deserves. everything about this fic is gentle from the conversations to the smut and so, it may be boring and out of some of your interest range, so i apologize. this is just something i wanted to do. ofc it’s still a little *nasty* just not rough.

The moon kisses your skin as you sink into the small pond in your front yard.

With no neighbors for miles, you're able to do so without clothes, letting your body recharge in moon water, drenching your hair and skin.

Your practices may appear silly, but that is why you live like a recluse, your only friends being the wildlife and the riverbed. No one around to judge you as you splash your bare shoulders in the cool water.

You lean back in the pond, arms balanced on the wet earth around you. You stare up at the stars. Your eyes begin to flutter closed, until you hear rustling.

Not uncommon. Of course there's wild animals all around you, and you usually welcome them. With it being dark though, you have to be a bit more cautious.

You open your eyes and turn, scoping the scenery. At first, you don’t spot anything until you hear rustling again. Your eyes follow the noise, then you see that walking along the bushes near your porch is a fuzzy, black ball. You cannot quite make out what it is until you squint and see bright purple, slitted eyes staring at you.

It's a cat.

You gasp in excitement and pull yourself out of the water. The cat scurries around the corner of your porch and you frown, but you know how you can get it to come back.

In all your bare skin, you bolt inside the house, dripping water, and begin to scour your fridge for the tuna you had very recently made.

The real reason you live so far from society is because you are not quite an ordinary human. You see, any food that you cook heals the person who eats it. You first discovered this when your brother had busted open his head as a child, and you'd made him a sandwich out of sympathy. Hours later there was not so much as a scar in the place he'd been bleeding out of.

And ever since, when your parents weren't looking, you and your brother would beat yourselves up just to test your powers. He remains the only person who knows about them.

With this ability, you figure the stray cat could use a bit of healing. You fix the tuna into a small bowl, a soft shimmer coming from the fish.

You walk back outside, still stark naked. You don't see the cat anymore but you can hear it in the bushes. You squat down and place the bowl on the grass, just under the awning of your wooden porch, and then you back away.

“Here, kitty kitty,” you coo.

Moments later, the skinny cat emerges, glancing up at you to see if you intend harm. You back away farther and soon, it dips its head and begins eating the food.

Within minutes, the patchy fur around its ears begins to fill in, the mats disappear, and the crust around its purple eyes dissolves.

You smile to yourself. You've only had to use your healing technique on yourself in the past years, so you weren’t entirely sure how powerful they still were. This confirms you’re still fully capable.

The cat would go on to disappear, but for the next couple of months, you’d search for it outside, both day and night. It only ever appeared at night, though, and only about twice a week. Sometimes less.

“Why hello, kitty,” you’d say when seeing the cat, and it would regard you with a mew, but it would never quite come close enough to touch.

A week passed, for the first time in months, and there was pure silence. No sign of the cat. You found yourself rocking on a chair on your porch, waiting, and it didn’t come for an entire seven days.

Until a full moon-bathing night.

The cat returns, completely different in appearance and nearly a brand new animal. It's belly is thick with nutrition, ears sharp and full, tail furry and active.

And to your complete surprise, the cat approaches you in the pond.

You jump with surprise, and turn around to face the cat, putting your hand out of the water. It sits down next to the water and watches you intensely.

You don't move for a moment, afraid to scare it off. But after several beats, it nudges your wet hand and you rub your palm across its back.

You jolt with the realization that you have earned its trust.

"Welcome back," you say softly, moving your hand to scritch its chin. "I wish I knew what you were. A boy or girl. So I can name you. Right now, your name is 'here, kitty kitty.'"

The cat's ears twitch as it rolls onto its side and licks its paw.

"Oh well," you shrug. "Kitty will have to do for now. Anyway," you shake your head, realizing you are trying to hold a conversation with a cat. "Where have you been, naughty cat? I was worried about you.”

The issue with you holding a conversation with the cat is that it seems to be listening. It looks up at you with a slow blink and mews.

You smile. “It’s okay. Just missed you, is all.” You take a deep breath. “It’s chilly tonight, kitty. You sure you don’t want to stay with me? I have a warm bed.” You rub your hand along its side and it begins to purr.

Perhaps that is a yes.

It leaves your hand and skips to the porch where it then sprints towards the front door, turning to face you expectantly.

You huff and then pull yourself up out of the water, your body soaked and dripping as you reach for your dry cloth and begin to wrap it around yourself as you walk towards the feline, who is staring at you.

When you make it onto your wooden porch, you smile down at the feline and pull open your storm door, stepping inside as the cat follows.

It glances around, nose twitching, taking in this new and intimidating space.

“I would have made you your own space if I’d known you were coming,” you say, continuing to talk to the cat like it would really respond.

It was much to hope for, but you hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in years.

You lead it off to your bedroom and push open the door.

"I don't mind if you sleep with me," you say kindly, but now it appears that the cat is back to not understanding you, as it goes into the bathroom and looks around - then back to the living room, before ultimately nestling in on your couch.

You sigh as you follow it around with a smile.

"Fine, make yourself at home.” You walk over to scratch the cat on its head. “If you see any mice, feel free to take care of it for me. I will see you in the morning.”

Okay, so maybe you have lost it. A lonely, weird witch who's speaking to animals that cannot understand you. But at least you have a companion now, something to help you be a little less lonely.

Maybe.

You go into your room and change into warm pajamas, then settle into bed that night with a smile on your face. You poor thing, having no idea what you'd gotten yourself into.

The sun peeks through the window the next morning, and gently pulls you out of your sleep.

The first thing on your mind is that you have to feed your new pet. Even though it looks well fed thanks to your magic, it has been a week since you'd seen it last, so you aren’t sure if it has eaten in that time.

You rub your eyes free of sleep and grab a comb in order to gently work the sleep-knots out of your hair. You emerge from your bedroom to head to the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall, you hear snoring and you freeze. Is the little cat really that loud of a sleeper?

You peer around the corner and, you don't see the feline anywhere. But then your eyes travel to the couch, where you’d seen it last.

Your eyes land on very human toes, then they slither up a very bare human calf, then over a bare muscular thigh, and up a bare human chest, until they land on a human face - surrounded by a wild pool of ebony hair.

Your shriek jerks the individual awake.

You take your comb and hold it out in defense, but you know realistically there is no violence in your body.

"Oh, shit," he shouts, scrambling to stand off of the couch and raising his hands. "I-I thought you would sleep a bit longer."

"Who the hell are you?" you shriek, your trembling hand keeping the comb up in defense.

"I'm..." he swallows and looks down, appearing to realize that he is stark naked, but makes no effort to hide himself. "You invited me in," he continues, voice accusing. "Here, kitty kitty. Remember?"

You blink in disbelief. Your eyes trail over his black hair, then his purple eyes, the slits in them now blown to full size. He's not lying. There is no denying the eyes.

"B-But how are you human?" you whisper.

He sighs sadly, dropping his hands. "I have a curse." He scratches his head and you wonder when is the last time he's taken a bath that wasn’t with his own tongue. "I apologize, as I never intended for you to find out."

You think back to your time with the cat. He’d seen you naked a couple of times, for long periods at that. And he’d secretly been a man the whole time. Even though he stood naked in front of you now, as well, you're more embarrassed than you are upset with him.

"It's okay," you say softly, lowering the comb.

He blinks at you in disbelief but his shoulders visibly relax.

"I considered telling you sooner but, I didn’t want to scare you.” He sighs and interlocks his fingers. "But I always wanted to thank you for healing me.”

You nod slowly. "It was my pleasure.” You pause for a moment. "What is your real name?”

"It is Geto," he says.

"Odd name for a cat," you say, teasing. "I'm Y/N."

Geto nods. “Lovely, well, I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'll go now." He turns to leave and your heart stops.

"What?" you blink at him. "N-No, you don't have to do that."

"Well, don't you think I'm some kind of freak?" he questions. "Aren't you upset I didn't reveal the truth sooner?"

"No, and yes," you say softly. "I wish you would have told me because…” because it is a dream come true that you’re a human, you want to say. “Because who am I to judge you?”

Geto clicks his tongue. “People judge all the time even if they have no right to.”

“I am a witch who lives by herself in the woods and talks to animals, for God’s sake,” you throw your hands up. “Clearly, I needed someone real to talk to.”

“I’m sorry,” Geto says, swiping a hand down his face.

You take a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” You lower your hands. “How long will you be human?"

"Only until dusk," Geto explains.

"And this happens, everyday, without fail?" you question, taking a step towards him, trying not to allow your eyes to wander.

"Yes," he says, raising an eyebrow, hands flying up in defense. "Forgive me, but I am naked. I don't think-"

"Do you know how long I've been without companionship, kitty?" you ask, putting your hands on your head. "I enjoyed taking care of you, feeling like I kind of had a pet, anticipating your return. I don’t want you to leave so soon.”

Geto bites his lip, "Really? I... I enjoyed coming to see you, too. Especially on nights you moonbathe."

You quirk your brow. "Is that so?" That much was obvious, as you think about the previous night when he had come and sat next to you while you were in the water.

Geto nods sheepishly, keeping his eyes averted. “So, this means I can... stay with you?"

You nod happily, "Of course. How long have you been out there like this? With no where to go?"

Geto shrugs his shoulders. "My life before getting cursed is pretty fuzzy. The days and nights have blended together.”

“And you are always naked?” you snicker.

Geto chokes a bit and uses his hands to hide that part of himself, which you’d been trying not to look at and failing miserably.

“Um, I wasn’t at first,” he admits, “but my clothes became ripped to shreds and I just accepted defeat. If I am wearing something before nightfall, by morning when I am human again, I will be in the same clothes.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you say with a smile.

Geto opens his mouth to respond, but with a snap of your finger, his body is covered in a black sweater, shorts and warm socks - as you are well aware of your cottage’s autumn chill.

"Clever witch," Geto nods in approval. "Thank you. I don't deserve this kindness."

But he does, you think. A man cursed to be something as small and vulnerable as a cat, forced to defend for himself all this time.

And to top it off, as a person he is gentle and kind. You feel your heart palpitate. You aren’t sure what that could mean.

“You’re welcome,” you say, and gesture towards the kitchen. “I was going to make breakfast. Now that you’re human, would you care for pancakes?”

"I have never had pancakes," Geto admits. "But anything you make is delicious, so I’d love to try some.”

And so, you both end up at your small wooden table - a perfect fit for just the two of you as the sun beams in through the arched windows. You've poured strawberry syrup all over Geto's stack of cakes, and he is devouring them with full cheeks and a bright smile.

"I love pancakes," he mutters out. "Your food gets better every time.”

You nod at him with a smile. "Just wait till I make dinner. I know you will be a cat again, but I think you will enjoy it.”

Geto's eyes roll in pleasure, "I already can't wait."

You know your food has physical healing abilities, but you've never known it to seep deep enough to affect your thoughts and emotions. So, this means the odd twinge in your heart whenever you look at Geto must not be from the food. You wonder if he is feeling the same effect.

"So, have you ever tried to break your curse?" you question, shoving another syrupy mouthful into your cheeks.

"No," Geto mumbles sadly. "I used to sit under the sun for many hours, and then when the sun began to go down I'd close my eyes and try to fight the change. But when I'd open my eyes again, there would always be paws looking back at me. I'm used to it now, I live my life around it.” He sighs before smiling softly at you. “And, well, my curse brought me to you, didn't it?"

You feel your face warm at his kind words. They weren’t helping the fuzziness in your ribcage.

"It did," you confirm with a smile. "Well, I was prepared to give you your own little cat room. The offer still stands, but I don’t think the room will be big enough for you in human form.” You tap your fingers nervously on the table. “So… um, you are welcome to share my bed with-with me.”

Geto gasps a bit and nearly chokes on his bite of pancake. "Hmm, I don’t mind, but are you going to wake me up every morning threatening to hit me with a comb?"

You grin, "No, especially since I think it will be nice to wake up to the warmth of another person every day."

"I think so too," Geto says softly, before attempting another bite only to realize he has cleared his plate. "My, my, little witch. You have spoiled me."

He elbows you playfully and you feel your stupid, lonely heart filling to the brim with some new emotion.

"I do think you could stand a bath before you get in my bed, though," you say with a playful smile.

"Oh, right," Geto nods, pink creeping up on his cheeks. "I will do so right after breakfast."

And he did. You had gone outside to tend to your garden while he washed, to see if your vegetables were ready to be harvested yet. They weren't.

Geto joins you in the same outfit as before but now, there are droplets of water falling off of his deep black hair. He walks under the porch awning to the side where you are waving your sparkling fingers over your crops.

"I feel much better," Geto stretches as if he were still feline and leans on the porch railing, looking down at you. "A good meal, a good shower, and a place to live all in one day."

You look up at him. "Well, after so long in the wilderness, I think you deserve it, kitty."

Geto bows his head in gratitude. "At least let me take care of your garden, to... repay you."

"Why do you need to repay me?" you question, astonished.

"Well, nothing in this life comes for free," Geto mutters somberly. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have this curse."

You shake your head, "Well, I already told you that I desire companionship. You are giving me that, so it isn’t technically free."

Geto swallows. "But what is companionship? Just my presence? Or is it engaging and fulfilling conversations and time spent together?"

"All of the above, it may be different depending on the day," you explain.

Geto ponders for a moment. "So, what is it you would like today?"

You smile at him, the sun beaming in your eyes, while Geto remains shadowed under the awning. "Your presence."

And when dusk fell, like clockwork, Geto was back on all fours; a small, vulnerable ball of fur.

You prepare a quick dinner, which Geto slurps up to the last bite, and then you are ready to go to bed - just because you know that the sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up to be with human Geto again.

You go into your room, preparing for bed, and he follows you this time. You step behind your closet door to change into a silk nightdress and then, you climb into bed, and Geto hops up next to you. You fluff your pillows and blankets to make a little spot for him, and he curls into it before nestling his head into your side.

Your hand mindlessly strokes his fluffy back until he's purring in his sleep, and not long after, you float away with him.

The next morning, something solid digging into your back awakes you from your peaceful dreams.

You blink open your eyes and see that it is grey outside, combined with the soft tip tap of raindrops on your roof. You smile, it's going to be a lazy day indoors.

When you attempt to roll over, you notice Geto's hand is splayed on your stomach. A moment later you realize: his entire arm is wrapped around you. But that's not exactly what's bothering you, it's whatever is digging into you from behind.

You carefully roll over in Geto's arm. When your face aligns with his, you see he's still sound asleep, messy hair covering his cheeks and forehead. His lips are parted as he snores.

The something is now digging into your stomach. You glance down and find the culprit: the large tent in his shorts. You gasp at the sight. Does Geto realize this is happening to him?

Of course you know what sex is, but being outcasted at such a young age, you'd never experienced it. You certainly don’t know how it affects boys. Over the years you'd experimented with your body, though, so you knew how to please yourself. But what would it be like with another person?

You wonder if the case is the same for Geto. There’s only one way to find out.

You shake him awake with a soft press on his shoulder.

His eyelids flutter open, and the first thing he does when he sees you is smile.

"Good morning, beautiful," he grumbles sleepily, hand flying up and off of your body to rub his gorgeous purple eyes.

You smile goofily, and feel the urge to cover your face.

"Hi," you whisper. "How did you sleep?"

Geto yawns, stretching. "I slept better than I have in years. You’re very warm and soft."

You smile harder, heat filling your cheeks. "I cannot say the same for you."

Geto raises a brow. "Am I a rough sleeper?"

"No, I just mean," you bite your lip and shyly point towards his groin.

Geto's eyes follow yours and then his face turns equally as red. "Oh, shit, I-"

"Don't apologize," you say quickly. "In fact, um, I was going to ask if... if you wanted help f-fixing it."

Geto's eyes widen in disbelief. "What do you... I mean, you want to...?”

"Yes." Your answer is quick and desperate.

"Well then," Geto scratches his head and then puts his soft palm on the side of your face. "I said I would be here to offer whatever type of companionship you desired day to day. Today, this is what you really want?"

"Mhmm," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "Do you want to?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I mean, my body kind of already answered for me, hm?”

You giggle, “Kiss me, then.”

Geto nods politely before leaning his face in, softly planting his feathery lips on top of yours. Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign contact. It feels like sparks of electricity are zipping through your veins. Like stars forming together in a constellation. You wonder if this is what soulmates are supposed to feel like.

Geto's lips part your own and his tongue drags slowly across your bottom lip, leading the kiss, as you are clearly the lesser experienced of the two of you.

A small moan falls from your mouth and your eyes pop open in embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, pulling away.

"For what?" Geto questions, rubbing your cheek slowly with his thumb.

"I didn't mean to make that noise," you whisper.

"No, it’s okay," Geto explains. "Those noises let me know what I'm doing is good, that you like it. Have you never done this before?"

You shake your head, biting your lip.

"That's okay, I'm here to guide you through it," he nods reassuringly, and then, drops his hand from your face.

He gently pushes on your shoulder and you are now laying flat on your back. He then props himself up on his elbow and slides part of his body between your legs.

"Just follow my lead, and tell me if you want me to stop at any time," he instructs, pushing a piece of your messy morning hair away from your face.

You nod trustingly, and he crashes his lips back onto yours.

This time, he's harsh and desperate. He cocks his head to the side so that your faces fit together and smacks his full lips against yours. Your hands fly up to hold him at his shoulder blades, and his body begins doing a winding motion against yours. You feel his hard length pressing into your stomach with every bit of movement.

You purr softly into his mouth and he responds with his own sultry noise, which alights a flame between your legs. You’ve read about this in books, but no amount of words compared to what it actually feels like, to have another person on top of you.

Geto's hand slides up the side of your left thigh, before stopping to hold your hip underneath the fabric of your nightdress.

His touch and kisses are so soft and pure. He is speaking to you without saying a word.

"Y/N," he mutters against your mouth before breaking away from you. "Is it okay if I take these off?"

His finger tugs the band of your panties and releases it against your skin with a soft pop.

"Yes," you breathe, digging your fingers into the material of his shirt, which earns a deep sigh from his throat.

Not a second more and he's lifting his hips up in order to rip the material down your legs. His eyes linger on them before he tosses them to the floor. You feel yourself become a bit shy, even though he's seen your naked body in full before. It's entirely different when his very human eyes are raking over your body, and his hands are hiking up the nightdress to get a better look at your bare hips and thighs.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," Geto whispers, pushing your leg up and out, so that you feel the cold air hitting you at the meeting of your thighs.

You blush and slide your hands into his soft hair. “I’m sorry, I’m just shy.”

“Understandably so,” he says, planting a kiss to your jaw. “But remember, I’ve already seen everything. God, it’s so much different to actually touch you.”

You nod and gasp as his hand moves to hover over your cunt, that had been getting wetter by the second.

You can feel the presence of his hand without him even making physical contact, and you nearly buck your hips to break the gap.

“So touch me,” you hum, desperately ready to experience pleasure that wasn’t self-inflicted.

"Okay, eager angel," Geto smiles. "Ready?"

You bite your lip, "What are you going to do?”

He chuckles, "Just getting you warmed up for now, okay? You don’t have to do anything for this part.”

You nod up at him, trusting, and then in another silky breath his fingers come down on your clit - without even searching for it. Your body has no choice but to spasm against his, as his soft fingers begin to slide across your bud like a bow on a violin.

He circles the spot and you cry out instantly, lips still dangerously close to his, but not quite touching. His own lips are parted as he burns his eyes into your face, watching the different ways your pleasure manifests in your features.

"Hngh - Geto," you murmur, your fingers now curling into the roots of his hair.

"Mhmm," Geto sighs back, planting his lips on yours again, this time shoving his wet tongue into your mouth and using it to suck on yours.

You writhe against his touch, unsure how you'd survived this long without this kind of pleasure. It seems Geto had been waiting his entire life to do this, he's so good at it.

You start to roll your hips against his hand and his fingers pick up pace, circling faster, your moans getting louder.

"Pretty girl," Geto praises, after pulling his mouth away from yours. "That feel good?"

You can do nothing but nod desperately, wanting to tell him that the pace he's at right now is perfect, that you feel heat bubbling in your pelvis, but the words won't come.

His fingers are coated in your juice now, he slides them down your folds and back up to your clit, and you almost lose your mind.

Then, his fingers go back down and his long middle finger pushes into your entrance the same way you put your own before. Although, his hand is much larger, and thus his finger fills you so much better.

Your head falls back deeper into the pillows and Geto takes the opportunity to pepper sloppy kisses all over your neck and collar, holding his mouth at times just to make you squirm.

His finger pumps shamelessly in and out of you, going knuckle deep, curling into the squishy roof of your pussy. You feel your hips pulling back from him but he follows you with his wrist.

“Just relax,” he purrs. “Let me make you feel good, repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

You nod obediently and allow your wet inner muscles to relax around him, and he notices, giving you a warm “that’s it” in your ear.

“T-Thank you,” you rasp, pulling his head to your face by his hair.

Your noses touch as you share breath, his hips dry-grinding into yours as his finger harasses your cunt. His pace quickens then slows. He takes note of the way you get louder and nearly burst into tears when he pushes a second finger inside, and begins slamming both members in, his palm hitting your wet clit with each stroke.

“Oh, angel,” Geto coos, “can already tell you’re gonna gonna do so good for me. Huh? Aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you hiss. “I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good to hear,” he rasps against your mouth before giving you a needy kiss.

He repeats his quick, deep pumping with his wrist until an unholy wave rumbles through your nerves and your body shakes against him - moaning wildly into his mouth. The rain on the roof begins to fall harder and nearly drowns out your noise.

“Ah - ah, shit,” you whimper as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“Yes, pretty girl, you got it,” he praises, catching your moans in his mouth as your thighs shake and your back twitches on and off of the mattress.

"Mmh - so wet," he adds, pulling out his fingers and tapping them together; revealing a clear, sticky string of secretion between them.

You blink in disbelief, had you done that?

What happens next nearly makes your soul shatter. Geto brings the two fingers to his lips and licks them clean, purple eyes watching you every second that he does so.

He releases his fingers from his mouth with a pop! and plants a kiss on your nose.

"Now, you're all ready," he says with a satisfactory nod. "It's been a really long time since I've done this; I'm glad that it's going to be with you."

You smile up at him, legs still twitching as your clit tries to come down from your high. “You’re so good at it,” you quiver. “‘M glad y’gonna be my first.”

“Maybe even your last,” he says, soft enough you fear that you may have imagined it.

You drop your hands from his hair and slide them down over his sweater collar and instead change the subject. "Aren’t people usually naked for this?"

Geto grins, "Yes, my bad. I'm used to already being naked."

You giggle as he parts his body from yours, only for a second, then he slides his shirt off his body and shakes his hair loose, before discarding the garment to a random corner of the room.

Your hands immediately find his bare, chiseled skin. Albeit soft, the muscles underneath are rigid, and he's covered in tiny white scars that paint a small piece of his entire portrait.

His eyes don't leave you as his hands move to pull your nightdress over your head. Now the two of you lay topless, skin to skin, the only thing separating you being his shorts.

His hand glides mindlessly down your side, resting on your hip. "Just breathtaking," he murmurs, planting a kiss to the crook between your shoulder and neck.

You shake your head. "That's all you. Whoever cursed you must have known that seeing your beauty all twenty-four hours a day would be too much for the world to handle."

Geto cracks a laugh, his eyes crinkling with genuine adoration and happiness.

He doesn’t say another word before he tugs down his shorts, and they join the growing pile of clothes on your bedroom floor. Now he’s back to laying gently between your legs, careful not to crush you with his weight.

Your eyes widen as his length pops out, smacking his abdomen before falling forward from how much it appears to weigh. You’d seen it the day before, of course, but it hadn’t been… erect. You are amazed at the sheer difference in size, and quite frankly intimidated.

“What’s wrong?” Geto wonders, lifting your chin to look at him.

“Th-that’s gonna fit inside of me?” you ask, blinking out of embarrassment.

Geto nods slightly, “Yes, believe me, angel. You can take it, it’s not as scary as it looks.”

You stretch your knees apart so they aren't digging into his sides, and you feel that hard part of him brush against your cunt.

A small gasp flies from your mouth, as your body shudders, and Geto calmly relaxes you with his soft hands massaging your sides, burying his face in your neck.

“A-Are you sure?” you ask.

"I’m gonna need you to kiss me, and focus on breathing, okay?" He speaks against the skin on your neck before planting a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

"Okay, I can do that," you nod nervously, wrapping your arms his neck.

He sits up a bit to stare at you, faces barely inches apart. The rain still patters against the roof mercilessly in the background, occasional thunder claps landing in the distance, mirroring the thump of your heart in your ribcage.

His hand that isn't being used to hold himself up is sliding between your legs, where he grips his cock, then begins sliding it on your slick, lathering himself up.

Your back comes a bit off of the mattress, stomach sliding against his torso.

“Hngh - oh," you mumble, and Geto cuts you off with a peck.

"Don't tense up, angel," he mutters against you. "Hold on to me, don't let go."

You nod against his lips, still shuddering. He taps the surprisingly heavy head on your clit, his wetness and yours creating a smack! noise.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he requests as he takes the tip of his cock and presses it at your entrance, not applying pressure yet.

“I’m ready, Geto,” you say desperately.

As much as you are scared, you’re also ready to feel him, to please him. To be as close as two humans can possibly be.

"Deep breath," he whispers, dipping his face.

You lift your chin to grab his mouth and bite down on his bottom lip as he pushes past your gummy threshold, feeling as your walls mold to the shape of his cock and swallow him up.

You try to keep your eyes open just to see the way his own roll to the back of his head as he pushes in, but the burning at your core makes your eyes squint shut as your nails dig into his back.

“Sh-shit,” he grumbles against your bite, as his hand jerks to find something to grip on, ultimately settling for the pillow next to your head.

“G-Geto, it-” hurts, feels good, burns, is exhilarating. All of these things are entering your mind as he enters you.

He gets about halfway deep and you feel yourself clenching around him, trying to relax, but it’s hard when it’s scary and a bit painful. It’s not the first time something has been inside of you, but this feeling is raw and unique, and he’s so much bigger than anything you’d ever put in there.

He pauses for a moment and you release his mouth from your teeth so that he can prop up on his elbow, and he looks down at you in amazement.

“Doing amazing so far, beautiful,” he praises, placing his palm on your cheek and stroking away the stray tear that is falling from your eye. “How do you feel?”

You nod your head, unsure for a moment if you can speak. “G-Good. J-Just trying to adjust.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” he plants a kiss to your earlobe before whispering, “let me know when you want me to keep going.”

You keep your hands on his back, then slide them down his arms, before dropping them behind your head.

Geto glances up, then takes his own hands up the side of your body and your arms before meeting his hands with yours and linking your fingers together.

You sigh against this touch. He’s no longer hovering over you and you are chest to chest, erect nipples brushing his chest. He buries his face in your neck and awaits your command.

“Go,” you whisper softly, and he does not hesitate to grind his hips further into yours.

Now, his cock is filling you from wall to wall, entrance to cervix. Your legs are shaking on either side of him as you stretch, ecstasy consuming you and making your brain turn to mush.

Geto’s wet mouth smacks sloppy kisses all over your neck as he pulls his hips back to begin his rhythmic stroking.

You arch against him and cry out.

“Mmh, feels so good,” is all you manage to mumble in his ear, and he responds by grazing your neck with his teeth.

The rain swooshes against the window in time with your cunt’s squelches, as you drip all over Geto’s length and down onto the mattress.

“Y’so p-perfect,” Geto whines against your neck, and for several moments he pumps silently and softly into your core, driving you to a feeling you’d never thought was possible.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His hips roll with the howl of the rain, slowly but deep. Your wooden bed creaks in his wake, adding to the symphony of sex in the room.

“Faster,” you hear yourself moan in his ear, and his hips pick up momentum.

They clap against your skin softly as he works harder to slam his cock against your taut insides.

“So warm,” he mumbles, propping himself up to look down at you, and you grip onto his hands tighter. “Shouldn’t feel th-this good.”

You grunt out a pathetic cry as his new pace results in him hitting a new spot, one he continues to press into upon hearing your response to it.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Oh shit, Geto, right there.”

“Right there?” he echoes in a silky tone, pinning your hands further into the pillows as he fucks harder into you, still maintaining his soft kisses along your jaw.

Now that the pain is disappearing, ecstasy consumes all of your thoughts, and it seems to come naturally to you what to do next.

You pull your legs up and wrap them around his back, linking your ankles just over his waistline, and it creates a new angle for Geto to pound you from.

“Hngh - oh,” Geto’s eyelids flutter. He’s hitting another new spot that makes you feel like your groin is going to explode. “Pretty girl, I don’t wanna finish so soon, but if you keep me like this…”

“Don’t care,” you shake your head, wanting to feel what it’s like to be filled with the aftermath of a man’s orgasm. “Wanna take it all.”

“Don’t say - mmh,” Geto cuts himself off and dips his head back into your sweaty neck. “God, I… I think I love you.”

You gasp at his sultry confession. Of course, you had been taking care of him for a while. Though you hadn’t known his human form for long, he’d known you. He was the first person you’d come across in a long time, but in all your life, absolutely the kindest. Was it really that insane to think the two of you could be… in love?

“I-I love you too,” you reply without much thought, using the leverage on your legs to grind yourself down onto him as he pumps.

Your wetness covers his groin which has the underside of your thighs soaked, nearly sticking the two of you together as his strokes become sloppier, wetter, his cock drenching your insides in precum.

You feel him squelching around inside of you, stretching your poor virgin walls to their peak, wringing immeasurable pleasure from deep in your guts.

“Hah - mm,” Geto whines, now mercilessly drilling as deep as he can go.

It hurts but you’re taking it so well, and it shows in the way Geto is mumbling praises in your ear.

Good girl, so good, so wet, mon amour, take it.

He lets out a deep groan and then, he’s grabbing your knees and unwrapping your legs from around him. In a flash, he has you flipped to your side, and he slides behind you, as if you were back in your cuddling position from this morning.

“Just needed to switch it up,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing your shoulder.

“Mm, what are you gonna do?” you question him, and he shows you when he slides his cock between your coated thighs and pulls a gasp from you.

His hand finds your hip and grips it. “Tell me if you don’t like it, we’ll go back to the other way, yeah?”

You nod, but there’s a twist in your stomach at this exciting new angle, as Geto lifts your leg up and holds the underside of your thigh in the air. You twist backwards to put your arm around his neck, and he kisses yours.

“‘Member what I said?” he reminds raspily in your ear, “just hold onto me. I’ve got you.”

“Please, just put it back already,” you whine needily, and Geto doesn’t hesitate to push himself back into your crying hole.

This new angle hits you deep in your belly. Geto’s hand flattens out over your lower stomach and presses down. Inside of your guts, Geto’s cock is jerking hungrily, needing to feel every inch of you sliding back onto him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

He keeps his hold on your thigh, his chin on your shoulder, biting and licking and moaning into your ear.

“S-So good, angel,” he huffs out, and all you can do is whimper as he grinds his thin hips into your backside.

“Ngh - kitty,” you whine, “where’d y-you learn this?”

Geto responds by kissing your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything aloud, instead shuts you up by fastening his pace, thundering into you in competition with the lightning from the rainstorm.

His hand glides down the side of your body and takes a handful of your ass, digging his nails into it as if he is going to slip away.

“I… regrettably think I’m gonna c-cum,” Geto stammers.

Something overcomes you, and you spin around, still on his cock. His perfect lips form a shocked, ‘O’ shape, and you put your hand against his throat, softly, applying a slight amount of pressure to each side. You adjust your legs to be on either side of him.

“Cum for me,” you mutter, shocking yourself, and Geto’s response is a guttural, pathetic groan.

“Why’d you have to - hngh - nooo-“

And not a moment more passes before he’s hopelessly spilling into you, cock jerking against the top of your sticky walls, nails breaking open the skin on your hips as you round them over his cock to drag out every drop you can.

The warmth of his cum inside of you makes your body writhe, squeezing his length painfully as your own orgasm comes intensely - covering him in watery fluid.

“G-Geto, I’m-” you can’t get the word out, you are shocked but have no way of telling him due to how fucked out you currently are.

“Agh - so beautiful,” he mumbles, bringing his strokes to a conclusion. He remains inside of you for several unearthly moments, your cunt twitching around his shakey cock.

Then you use the leverage of your legs around his waist to push yourself up and down, up and down.

Geto’s eyes bulge and then roll backwards. “Oh, oh shit.”

Your hands grip onto his shoulders for more leadway.

“Does that feel good?” you question him, a little unsure why you’ve decided to do this, knowing he’s already cum inside of you.

“Y-Yes,” Geto grumbles, leaning forward to plant a sloppy, needy kiss against your mouth before he parts his lips and holds them there - so fucked and barely able to contain his moans. “D-Do y’even know what you’re doing?”

Your body is tingling with the leftover feeling of your orgasm as you slide down on Geto in this laying position, and having him still hard inside of you does feel weird but - you like it.

“No,” you answer honestly. “I-It just feels good.”

Geto nods desperately, “Don’t stop, please.”

You obey his wish by sliding faster, feeling your walls pulsate around his cock as you push both of you beyond your limits. Whoever said sex had to end with orgasms is a loser, you think.

“Geto, you filled me up so well,” you say, “s-so glad you were m-my first.”

Geto looks up and forces his eyes open. He smiles at you through gritted teeth, “I-I’m glad too, m-mon amour.”

Him stuttering like this is doing dangerous things to your cunt, causing you to gush and pool on him even more than before. Geto notices and grabs a handful of your hair.

“O-Okay,” he shudders, and begins to laugh. “Maybe - maybe we can stop now.”

“Hmm? You sure?” you tease, and he shakes his head.

“No, but don’t know if I can take it,” his smug laughter has faded back into pathetic whimpers, and your cunt hates the thought of not being able to hear these noises from him.

You sigh softly regardless, and smile at him, before halting your movements and laying there; his cock now covered in cream and cum, stagnant inside of you.

He takes the pause to catch his breath and there you stay, cock inside, arms intertwined.

He releases your hair and puts his palm on your cheek, pulling your face towards his to kiss him.

“Perfect,” he says. “I wish that I could spend all twenty-four hours as a human with you.”

You sigh softly, “I do too. But I am glad we even get to know each other in this lifetime, let alone spend the time together.”

A moment too soon, he begins to slide out of you with a smile and both of you moan at the gushy feeling. He sits up on his elbow and stares directly between your legs to watch his cum drip out of you.

Then he sits all the way up, on his knees; his hair sticking to the crown of his face by sweat.

You lay there, all kinds of fluids dripping slowly out of you still, breathing in his scent that he’d left behind on the pillow.

“Geto, did you mean what you said?” you ask suddenly, forcing yourself to sit up, your insides squishing around, a slight pain jarring up your tummy.

Geto glances down at you, eyes still dark with lust. “About what?”

“That you love me,” you question, cocking your head to the side. “We’ve only known each other a short time, I-I just…”

“I meant it,” he says softly, falling onto his bottom, before pulling you up on onto his lap, his fluids and yours dripping all over him. “I think that if you are capable of feeling such strong things so quickly, it must be real and true.”

Your eyelids flutter softly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers down his back.

“It’s just that I’ve never had anyone love me for me,” you say. “I literally live alone because no one else ever accepted me.”

“Well,” Geto nuzzles your neck and kisses your collarbone, “I am equally a delinquent as you are. We are one in the same, and I think you are perfect for me. You showed me kindness when you didn’t have to, so yes, I love you.”

You smile, in your happy little post-ecstasy bubble. The rain pours still, and the clouds remain grey, but as long as Geto is around, you know that will always be able to see the sun.

A/N

why…. why am i SOBBING

this is the life our little baby deserved (with gojo) goodbye!!

and that concludes JJK HALLOWEEN! let’s take a bow everyone, i couldn’t have done it without your support!!

jjkhalloween!! is gonna forever be remembered as the series that got me jump started on this platform and im gonna remember the absolute fun I had writing it for the rest of my days :’)

this community is so welcoming and sweet and i love all of you guys and your kind words and reblogs it means EVERYTHING to my poor little jjk heart even if i’m a boomer who doesn’t know how to reply!1!1!

mwah mwah, now onto new things!!! <3

~ pennjammin

[dumbseee]

jude being in love with you implies him sending your random pictures of random things with, "saw this and thought of you <3". like the one time he sent you a stray cat following him in the streets and sent it to you with the caption, "i met your cat self earlier today, i named her yournickname <3."

when he’s having an important game and you can’t be there to support him, he makes sure to call you a few hours before training, your voice being the only medicine to his anxiety. before the match, he kisses the beaded bracelet you made for him. he kept calling it his lucky charm and swore to never take it off. (carlo and the boys almost have to tie him to the floor to take it off him, before games.)

jude pays attention to you a lot, when your eyes wander a little bit too long on a book or a piece of clothing, you should know that the item would find it’s way on your bed, the very next day with a cute note attached to it, "for you my love <3 you deserve it." but he’s also very private and protective over you, your relationship is pretty much public and people know who you are to jude, but he refuses to share you with the world. when walking on the streets with many people around, he makes sure to tighten his grip on your hand, walking in front of you protectively.

when asked about his celebrity crush in interview he names you, "umm, i don’t know if you’ve heard about her but she’s amazing and so damn pretty. her name is y/n l/n!" he never miss the opportunity to compliment you. even in sweats and barefaced, he’ll look at you with those pretty brown eyes of his, making you feel so loved and appreciated. jude also do not tolerate any criticism or hate aimed towards you by his "fans". he often took his socials to call out some disrespectful fans who wouldn’t stop harassing you. "don’t call yourself a fan if you can’t accept that i am, in fact, very happy with this woman and as long as i’ll be breathing, i’ll love and protect her."

[luveline]

hiiii not sure if your requests are open but if they aren’t just ignore this😭

imagine getting into an argument with james, sirius, and remus because you brought a stray kitten or something home and you really don’t have the room for a kitten

“but look at him🥺”

“no”

“🥺”

“… no” *less convincingly*

You hold the kitten in your hand. Remus strokes her head, her little damp ears. “It's not about that, Remus, I just couldn't leave her there, the box was falling apart and… I thought that only happened in movies.” 

Sirius leans forward on his knees to give the kitten a stroke of his own. “She's lovely,” he murmurs, scratching under her chin and grinning when she moves into it for more. “It's too bad the flat's so small. Otherwise we could keep her.” 

She's tortoise shell with a white half circle around her mouth, eyes squinted closed as she shivers. You've wrapped her in a tea towel like a blanket. She is, without a doubt, that cutest and saddest creature you've ever seen. “Where is she supposed to go, Siri?” you ask gently. 

“People love cats.” Sirius puts his hand on Remus' thigh casually, giving it a loving squeeze as he settles in. “Everybody wants a kitten.” 

But not everyone will be nice to a kitten. She feels like your responsibility now; how can you leave her? She's burrowed into you from the moment you picked her up, shushing and murmuring, your knees sodden in the puddle of rainwater beneath you both. 

“We have to keep her, please,” you say. 

There's a mutual surprise. “Dove, we can't,” Remus says. “The bathroom barely fits the toilet, shower, and sink, we'd never be able to have a litter box.” 

“It wouldn't be fair,” Sirius agrees, “on us or the kitten, she'd have no room once she turns into a cat.” 

You bring the kitten close to your chest and show them her helpless face. “But look at her,” you say softly, widening your eyes gently, your brows bunched together in the beginnings of heartbreak. 

“No,” Remus says, shaking his head sympathetically. 

You frown at him and Sirius in turn, your bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. 

“No,” he says again, sounding unsure. 

Sirius rubs his leg. “Stay strong, my love.” 

“There's just not enough room.” 

You fear you may be losing this battle, and if they really don't want a cat, maybe you shouldn't force them. But then your trump card comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck, shirtless, grey joggers low on his hips, and you know you still have a chance. 

“Wow, Jamie,” you say, not having to act very much to give your voice a hoarse rasp, “you might need to shower again.” 

His smile is magnetic. “Yeah?” he asks, immediately delighted by such a brazen comment. “How's the little sweetheart? Reckon we can leave her alone?” 

“She's cold still,” you say.

James visibly melts at your sad tone, while Remus rolls his eyes. “She's just trying to get you on her side, James. I've said we can't keep the cat and she's–” 

“Taking advantage of her feminine wiles?” Sirius suggests. 

“Cheating,” Remus finishes. 

James leans over the back of the sofa between your head and Remus to kiss behind your ear, a brief press of the lips. “Why should I care? Doesn't she deserve her own way?” 

“It's not as though I'm lying,” you say guiltily. 

James laughs and kisses your jaw. You bring your shoulder up to your chin and flush with heat at such a simple thing, trying your hardest not to jostle the kitten in your hand as he wraps an arm around your front, resting his face against yours. The wet curls of his hair are cold on your skin, and the straight line of his jaw digs in. “I know,” he says. 

“Catch on, Jamie,” Remus says. 

“Shan't, won't.” Another kiss to your cheek. 

“Please, Remus, I promise if you don't want her then I won't make you, but if it's about room, of course there's enough. The four of us manage to squeeze in, don't we?” You lean into James’ embrace, eyes melty-soft. You're practically batting your eyelashes at him. 

Sirius flops into Remus’ lap with a resigned sigh. “If you don't say yes, I will anyway. Look at her.” 

You don't know if he means the kitten or you, but you choose to believe it's you he's complimenting, and you react accordingly, your little smile pushing Remus completely over the edge. 

He sighs. “Yes, alright. Fine.” 

You pass James the little warm parcel of fur and use your freshly emptied hands to grab Remus by both arms. “Thank you! Aw, thank you, Remus. Sirius. I'll be so absolutely clean and if it does seem too small I promise, I won't make anyone suffer.” 

“I never thought you would,” he says. “If you really want to keep her, I can't stop you. I'm your boyfriend, not a prison warden.” 

“Well, we share a home–” 

“I know,” he says warmly, “it's alright. Keep your kitten, dove. Looks like you've found her for a reason.” 

You laugh happily and gather him up for a hug. “Oh, I love you.” 

“What shall we name her?” Sirius asks around you. 

“I'm not fussed. What do you like?” James asks. 

Sirius meets your eyes as you and Remus pull apart. “You always get your way, hmm? Why don't you name her?” 

Oh, you could hug him to death too. He looks comfortable where he is, his face on Remus thigh, hair fanned out over his joggers, and you don't want to disturb him (he's not quite as tactile as the others), so you stroke a curl from his cheek and offer him a cheeky smile. “Don't you have any ideas?” you ask. 

“About you, or the cat?” 

You laugh at his teasing. “Which one do you think?” 

Remus nudges you in the ribs. “Don't start. If we're keeping your cat, we need to go out, don't we? You'll have to go get dressed again.”

You give them all a glowing smile and clamber off of the sofa to find your shoes.