#i love my tablet but it limits me to my desk

[slugsketches]

do you ever see a piece of technology that you want more than anything else. like daydreaming about having it. what am I doing without it, when alternatively I could have it.

adding it to a cart simply to admire it, not knowing when it can finally go to check out

[randomyuu]

the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

My guy Vox once again graced us with lovely Goyuu fanfics, and the way it follows you home, the stories i never told, made me go FERAL.

Time travel? Two Gojou Satorus? Double affection for our sunshine Yuuji? Yuuji sandwich? What feels like possible continuation of (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become???

FUCK.

I need to stop indulging my imagination too much. I should’ve been content with writing long-ass comments but noooooo, my brain goes “you gotta draw it”. DAMMIT VOX, YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITINGS HHHHHH

So… usually I should’ve picked a favourite scene that is within my drawing capability, but I just… love all three chapters??? So I made a questionable time investment? I can’t stop??? Help???

This is probably the most ambitious fanart project I’ve ever done so far. Fair enough, considering I might combust if I keep these welled-up emotions inside from reading Vox’s Goyuu fics. Fuck.

Fic info:

Title: the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

Author: @voxofthevoid

Pairing: YuuGoGo. Future!Yuuji, Future!Gojou, Teen!Gojou

(idk why I laugh writing YuuGoGo. I’m beyond help)

Currently, it is 3 chapters out of 8. And it’s gonna be NSFW chapter 4 onwards, so don’t forget to read the tags first, folks!

The drawings are under Read More, because I have lots of thoughts surrounding each chapter and drawings. It’ll be hella long if I didn’t hide it here. It was a mess down there. A combination of hours before, during, and after I read said fic. I’d say good luck finding the art among the sea of jumbled words but… you’ll find them easily. Don’t worry about it haha

SPOILERS FOR ALL 3 CHAPTERS! I highly recommend reading those first before diving into these drawings!

Also for the comics, read from right to left please!

From here on, I will be referring to the Future!Gojou as Gojou and the teenage one as Satoru.

Overall, drawing all these is fun! Really fun! This project pushed me quite hard, forcing me to test my limit (because I rarely draw this much back to back). Since this is a combination of drawings and comics, the coloring style will not be consistent. In a way, I want to try some brushes I never get to use, as well as try out my new graphic tablet. Drawing these got me giggling because I was finally able to let loose during line art. It's much easier to do so, and sometimes I just get to reread the fic and giggle to myself for the nth time.

CHAPTER 1:

Whooo. Whooooooooo—

Ok, ok, the premise is just that good. It intrigued me, fascinated me, and I just… oomph. I cannot refuse a Time Travel Yuuji Sandwich. Sign me up.

Honestly, there are two scenes that are just… a bit too clear in my mind when reading this chapter. That would be the one I drew above, and the other is when Yaga called Gojou to come outside of the class. I love, loooove how Vox wrote Satoru’s POV. And when Yuuji fucking giggles?

I lost it.

Can you imagine, drawing Yuuji grins, with shiny stuff, maybe some sunlight, just purely happy and indulging Gojou?

Help me, for I am drowning in my love and adoration for Yuuji.

Page 2 is an experiment on using harsh black as shading (kind of?). I really enjoyed colouring Yuuji, and drawing those buffalo skulls! I wish I can grasp the concept of contrast a bit better tho :v

CHAPTER 2:

This is probably the only chapter where I picture still images instead of comic panels. A bit like those cool chapter covers in mangas. The one I really, really want to draw is the scene with Satoru on the table. Can’t pass the opportunity to highlight Satoru being a brat, albeit a really cool brat.

Cool idea drawing always proves to be a challenge, because of course my artistic skill just so happens to be below the requirement. Thank you, Sketchfab, for the chair and desk’s perspective otherwise I’m screwed lmao

The second scene that I want to draw the most is this:

Gojou is one step away from climbing Yuuji. Also, I have a bit of a problem picturing a man pouting that makes him look crazy instead, so please have Gojou pouting adorably instead. Because, as Yuuji said (with love), Gojou is (also) a brat.

This is possibly my favorite art in this project, after Yuuji's in Chapter 1 page 2. It's clean because I don't have to draw background, and I was having a fun time drawing Yuuji. And Gojou's squishy cheek as well.

Oh, actually, there is a “manga” scene in this chapter. It’s when Yuuji said, “I love Satoru.”

I just—

AAAAAHHHHH YUUJIIIIIII YOU AND VOX ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. That secure relationship between Yuuji and Gojou? Satoru’s description of how Yuuji’s smile could blot out the sun??? Not me screaming 💀 I also see bits of hints of possible co-dependency, though I could be reading those wrong, but either way I’m good. Secure and possessive relationships are fun to consume hhhhhh

But yeah. There are too many wholesome Yuuji smiles in this fic, and I… I am not confident enough to draw genuine happiness. It’s too much for me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

For this chapter, another reason why I chose these two scenes is just because I want to try and draw cover-worthy pictures of Yuuji and Satoru, and Yuuji and Gojou (cough)

CHAPTER 3:

We start the chapter with Nanamin. Ah, Nanamin. I forgot what his teen self looked like and was surprised to see his design again lmao

I want to draw Yuuji and Nanami scene because… I just want to, I guess. I have never drawn him before (Yaga as well) so that's an interesting challenge. I got two ideas on how I want to draw it. One is a bit painting-esque, and the other one is like another chapter cover. In the end, I chose the cover one because I want to emphasise the difference between teen!Nanami and the Nanami from Yuuji’s original timeline, and how the watch feels like a connection between the same (yet not) person. It’s a bittersweet feeling? In a way?

I’m not really good at explaining my intention ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

I love Yuuji’s answer to Nanami's question.

AND FINALLY.

A Yuuji SandwichTM scene.

And oh B O I do I love it. Have I told you I like every chapter? I probably have. But this one? Satoru’s curiosity, Yuuji’s on-brand self-deprecation, and Gojou come strolling down to show more of Yuuji to his mini-self. I want to draw this whole scene, from Gojou finding them, feeding Yuuji snacks, bitch-slapping Satoru into the backroom, to Yuuji growling. Them trying to hide a boner from Yuuji’s growl got me cackling so hard I LOVE IT 😭

I love it all. Please love Yuuji in my stead, Satoru and Satonyan :3

Oh! Also! 40-finger Yuuji sounds really, really cool! I’ll be happy with whatever Vox will give us in future chapters, but 40-finger Yuuji… possible scene with this timeline’s Sukuna… my god. The action! The drama! The bloodshed! One can only hope.

However, as much as I love that whole scene, it’s still too much for me :”) I’m still not yet confident in delivering the humour and action. Also my already-long drawing plan had my brain groaning in protest so I can’t push my luck :'D

When Gojou said "He looks sweet, but he's a bit of a beast", I kept picturing Yuuji staring innocently, but there was an edge to his look. As if the moment Satoru looks away, he will pounce. But in the end I just stick with innocent-looking Yuuji because I accidentally drew his eyes that way and I want to keep it in lol

Since Satoru points out how soft and cuddly Yuuji is, I also want to draw soft Yuuji :v

And the last one… is the last scene. For some reason, I read that both Gojou and Satoru share Yuuji’s lap and was having a frustrating yet fun time figuring out how it’s… physically possible, without having their butts on the ground because they both are not small at all. As I lined the art, I reread it again and… perhaps I read it wrong? Satoru is beside Yuuji, and not on his lap? So yeah, this one might be the least accurate, but hey, at least you can view it as a crack drawing or something :v

AAAANNNDDD I HAVE EXCEEDED TODAY’S BRAIN CAPACITY OF FORMING WORDS

Have I told you I love this fic?

…I probably have.

Have an amazing week (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[beesmygod]

i only read tumblr once a day because i [try] to stay sane so only just caught up with the art discourse, which I do have some bits n shit I want to add: a bit fasile for one but, dont you as an artist have upkeep and resource needs to produce? even if its just like...computer, tablet and necessities to continue existence because art takes time to make, those are real, and cost money. "art" in an absolute sense can be made for free with minimal time through just thinking, but like, a webcomic that is a physical thing made of electronic patterns and hosted on a server, takes time and takes stuff. "Webcomics" isnt a free infinitely repeating resource, and you are more than a machine to create webcomic, and none of us are infinite as a resource! at worst, art hits public domain eventually. that said even from that place of survival in capitalistic society it DOES make sense to at least have free public facing art as PROMOTION even if its just idk downtime sketches, doodles, memes, fanart etc so like im not 100% disagreeing yknow, and I am not and artists cant be a paying consumer my/their own art, art has to exist for the self too, the self that isnt a "paying class", or i just start making marvel movies and then its time to find my cool wet hole in the dirt and express my creative individuality like im a mathmatician of statistical analysis of fluid dynamics.

now that im awake i was going to answer these point by point, but this kind of flies past my point that making art exclusively for those who pay is abysmal and treating your audience like they're thieves is a poisonous and off-putting response to one's perceived "loss of income" (which is not even theft because the item being "stolen" can be reproduced infinitely. im talking about like a digital image like a comic page and not a physical item where there's limited copies lol). people either want to pay you or they dont; you can't force people to pay you by making access to your work harder, worse, more inconvenient, and more degrading to your audience. you can't induce artificial scarcity and be a good person.

like yeah obviously art production takes money. that's why most artists work desk jobs instead of trying to make it a solo venture and just expecting the world around them to pick up their slack. i didn't come out of a lotus blossom with a tablet ready to go, i worked desk jobs from age 15-24 in order to have enough savings to cushion myself if need be and pay for base supplies. i use tablets and items gifted/sold to me at a steep discount by my friends. i lived really poor in order to have the life i wanted. and i really loved it lol. i still think of that time so fondly.

once the comic is produced and posted, it is free for my audience to look at and the reproduction costs of the finished image is 0 dollars. it can be copied and reposted freely without charge. it costs me basically nothing to host. the production costs are currently covered by patreon donations. if they were no longer covered by patreon donations i would get a desk job instead of making my choice to go into the financially unsuccessful field of the arts my audience's personal problem to solve. if i don't make things people want to buy, that's my problem and not my audience's.

yeah, it would suck to have to stop doing this because its no longer financially viable (it is really financially hard right now; the state of the world around us is not conductive to the patreon life), but i wasn't entitled to it anyway. i get to make art for a living bc i have an audience that permits me to. why would i start treating them like dogshit or lying about value of my work to squeeze extra money out of them after what they gifted me?

[elvenbeard]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Yes I'm actually doing this on a Wednesday wooo :D

I just went back through all my tags of the last month and man, you guys ;__; <3 I'm not good at keeping up with tumblr atm and I don't have something to share every week, so I think once a month a WIP Wednesday might be a good compromise XD Thank you for all the tags!!

@theviridianbunny @dreamskug @ouroboros-hideout @lokiina @therealnightcity @chevvy-yates tagging you all right back!

So, with that off of my list of works in progress, as is answering all the tag games and quizzes, some projects I'm working on atm:

Writing: Love is stored in the olive jar (WT) - Chapter 13

It's done, but still needs a lot of editing, as it got very heavy on dialogue in the end and I want it all to flow more nicely and make it a bit more scenic XD Too many instances of "she looked up again" or "he paused for a moment/second" xD But I'm getting there! Here's a snippet from the already somewhat polished beginning:

“Alright,” Fuentes said as she finally caught her breath again, “I suggest we cut straight to the chase.” “Yes,” V nodded, “Thank you again for taking the time.” “Of course,” Fuentes nodded, “I have to admit, I have been thinking about you and your case a lot these past days. Even with the limited knowledge I have so far, I still believe I may be able to help. If you are willing now to tell me more about your condition now, of course.” ‘Willing’ wasn’t the word V would use, it was more a necessity at this point. “I will,” he said, “But only if you can provide me with a certain level of security.” Fuentes shifted in her chair slightly and frowned, then she opened one of the drawers of her desk and pulled out a tablet. She turned it on and began to search for something on it while maintaining eye contact with V as best as she managed. “You’ve come here today as my patient. As far as I’m concerned, everything, anything that we discuss, falls under the doctor-patient confidentiality. My contract with the Little China MedCenter binds me to treat your data and information with utmost care and discretion. All data we store is locked away securely, all in accordance with your Trauma Team policy. I can resend you the patient information papers and contracts, although I think most of them you should already have…” “I care less about the MedCenter than about what you personally do with the information I’m going to give you,” V said, and Fuentes stopped her search, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re alluding to,” she said, still polite, but significantly more tense than before. “Nothing,” V shook his head carefully, “This is just not something I tell random strangers on the street… no offense, of course. If I have to play with open cards, I need you to as well.”

In which Vince hates doctors but has to trust one now, boo XD

Writing: Some drabbles :3

Inbetween the longfic I still have some ask prompt drabbles to fill that I'm looking forward to tackling soon! And in a sudden burst of inspiration I wrote out a long although not very serious convo between Vince and Johnny the other day xD I'd love to turn it into a (VP) comic maybe, but I'm not sure yet XD

Art: Nothing new since last time, slowly chipping away at some bigger projects inbetween

VP: Currently no concrete plans for a bigger project

Although I wanna do more "days in the life" for Vince!! And I wanna play around more with some poses though and have a very soft set to share that I gotta edit a bit still ;_; Tomorrow probably!

Also, I'd like to turn the interface thingies from my recent "V as NPC" projects into shareable templates, that is also on my wip/ to-do list! Just wanna gather some in-game reference shots first :D

Modding: 👀👀👀

I'm working on a little something maybe, and I'm so excited :DDD Just gotta relearn how to do Archive XL, it's been half a year xD And I fought MLSetup Builder so fucking hard, but now I know how to edit MLMask Setups, so that's a victory at least XD And I have a base for a very kitschy coat :3

But yes, so much to that so far! See you again in a month or so probably with an ever-growing pile of wips xD But maybe some more writing, maybe some more art, and maybe a finished mod after too long 👀

[an-established-butt-dent]

Ohhh I painted something OOF!!

But I'm not sure if I should share it yet?

Honesty I have like 6 new paintings lined up in qq. Like, guys, am I insane? Please tell me what is the realistic time limit to upload new fanart?

I'm sick at home so no work, yet I'm still riding this inspiration train like there is no tomorrow (as long as I am able to keep my coughing under control at least).

Can I engulf you all in an endless stream of artworks of the Sad egg husband??? Am I doing too much emotional damage to you all? ( ; _ ; ) I don't know anymore.

Anyway enjoy a little WIP of my lovely messy desk situation!

I have been wanting to invest in a tablet and start my digital drawing journey. But nothing can beat the absolute joy ink stained hands and the feeling of a brush on paper brings me.

[tsuyonpuu]

And another question - how long do you draw? What drawing programs do you use and how to achieve the same drawing skill as you do?

Hii!! Here too a big sorry for not answering this ask earlier I simply had no idea it existed haha I'll answer regardless!! I've been drawing more or less seriously since 2012! Which is when I got my very first drawing tablet too hehe ever since then I've been in love with digital art!! I used to draw most with my PC desk setup and Painttool SAI (the first version) with my Intuos Pro M that is also 10 years old by now and i never got a different tables for my desk setup hahaha For the past couple of 2-3 i switched to the Ipad with Procreate! I love how convenient it is and I really fell in love with procreate as a software!

Regarding skill or something like that, I personally don't consider myself a good artist because I lack technical skills tbh! I think i am like average at best lol I lack fundamentals and I never do real studies- I do like to think that I'm pretty good with picking colours!! I like to watch YT videos on other people doing studies or techniques and trying to keep an open mind and eye on other media or styles- I love graphic design, I love video editing, I love concept art, I love brand design and other layout stuff and i think looking outside your own field in art helps you to expand on style and visual understanding. Sometimes i make sketches, sometimes i do lineart, sometimes i skip all steps and just start painting, i think its important to not limit yourself in how you work or what you do! Art is just about having fun!! Which is probably always my main advice for drawing or art. If you have fun, if you love what you make and if you keep an open mind and are willing to expand your horizon, then everything else will just come from alone!! Like I genuinely love what im doing and I love my own art and i think that's more important to me than technical skill :) (and i just want to point out that this is my personal opinion and I do acknowledge that technical skill is not just important but also beautiful to look at and essential at many jobs in the art field, I just personally don't like studying hahahah)

[wyrmoffastring]

It's the worst when ADHD does this with things you absolutely do want to do, things you enjoy, but because an adhd brain will have to walk thru each step consciously, it becomes equal to an unpleasant chore. Example: I want to paint. I love painting. I have an idea for a painting.

Starting to paint traditionally means:

1) making space on my desk 2) taking out my paints and paper 3) prepping the paper 4) prepping the paints 5) getting the water... aaaaand that's it. Can't do it. The amount of things needed to get to the part I actually want to do is like walking on glass. I will not do it unless me not doing it will hurt more than that. Painting digitally is much the same: 1) open the software 2) move my tablet to where it's comfy 3) put on my art gloves 4) oh yeah the keyboard is in the way gotta move that too 5) goddamn cables nope. Can't do it. This is why a lot of digital artists will actually see an improvement when they get an iPad btw, it's an objectively inferior option to a desktop PC with a much cheaper screen tablet, but you can just flip the cover open and the software you use is there and ready. And it's not limited to things that require what most people consider to be effort, either. Playing video games doesn't require physical effort a lot of the time (as long as you're not disabled) and often the games provide some form of instant reward or at least a clear path to progress that ticks off each step. That doesn't mean if you have ADHD it's always easy to play the specific game you want to play. Again, example: I want to play the Critically Acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV. To do that I need to: 1) locate my controller because it's better for me to play it that way. 2) make sure it's charged or that I have the cable on hand 3) Ok that's done time to log in. Where's my phone I have 2FA cus I'm too paranoid not to 4) Logged in, I'm now in game on my lovely bnuuy man! Success! 5) No? No success? Oh I am in a different location than I thought I was. Oh I'm mid-quest chain. Oh no. I don't feel like continuing this quest chain but the thing I wanna do requires me to teleport to a location far away. 6) that means I have to go to a menu and do that also then fly over to the specific location and also is my gear correct I don't think it's correct 7) oh no my hair is clipping thru this coat I need to change my glam RIP. Alt+F4, I can't do this. So yeah. ADHD isn't just "too lazy to do things you gotta do" or "can only do fun things" a lot of the time we literally cannot do anything. It is almost if not literally physically painful.

The thing about ADHD is that the "lack of reward chemicals in your brain" doesn't just mean that you don't want to do any tasks that don't feel particularly yummy :(, it means that your brain will look at chores and tasks that need to be done like "doing this would be painful and tedious for absolutely nothing to gain from it, Do Not Do That." The same thing that your brain tells you about everything else that would feel really bad and hurt the entire time that you're dying. The part of your brain that stops you from doing the thing is the same part that keeps you from shoving your arm into a wood chipper.

With unmedicated, unmanaged ADHD, "I have to do this assignment or I fail and my life will be ruined and I die" feels like a SAW trap, every single time.

[stuffs-from-a-cat]

boredom. (aka me complaining)

have you ever felt so bored to the point that you just wanted to slam your head into your desk? or just anywhere? or maybe instead you just want to kick and punch something. well im here to tell you that i have no solution for that, but i do suggest making a list of.. anything! sometimes, i like to write a random short story, or just spam letters on a text file, but if you're like child me, who hates wasting storage space or starting a new story without finishing a previous one (mind you, i used to write very cringy fanfiction (i still do)), then... i have no other solution for you!

or... you can try stretching in your room, boring, but might help you in the long term of life. you can try drawing or doodling, or starting a collage book, the possibilities are endless but then you realize that's exactly why you're bored, there are -in fact- too many things to do.

and if you're, again, like me, then you are pretty much lonely, which means you have no one to spam messages to or no one to binge watch shows with, or your friends are just busy every day. (i have too much free time, don't i?)

even so, thoughts bore me, and maybe they bore you too. the world is such a bore! no hobbies, no interests, no talent, and you simply fear failure, which means your list of want-to-dos are even shorter!

i enjoy listening to music, but once you're listening to music.. what else is there to do really? your ears are occupied, but what about your hands, feet, mind and eyes?

maybe you have something you actually want to do, but your parents disapprove of it, or it requires you to overcome fear of the public's eye, or maybe you just don't have the needed items for it. i, for example, love decorating tiny notebooks with collage stickers, issue is, it's difficult to find decent stickers that do not cost more than they should, and i do not have a driver's license which means i'm blocked from traveling to places unless my parents accompany me (sad, terribly sad).

i also like watching tv shows, but it's boring without company, and playing video games alone becomes boring sometimes. worst part might also be the fact that you suck at video games and have trashy internet.

you could have many personal projects, but... NO MOTIVATION!! oh no!! ive tried to start a minecraft smp with a friend once, but we both lack focus and participation in contributing to it, and two people starting a smp with ONLY two people in it in total? absolute failure. and as forementioned, i write, but writer's block loves to come and pay a 6 month-long visit, so the millions of story prompts and text docs have been on the forgotten-shelf for quite the time.

coding has been an interest of mine for about 2 months -which is a record considering how quickly i move on from hobbies- and ive mainly been trying to do game dev, but! as someone who is under 16 years old, it is difficult to learn such things without proper lessons on how coding languages even work. ive managed most of it, such as the outlining and just displaying text, but then another problem came up.. assets, what's a game without assets? using online free assets would have been a great thing because at least i get to practice displaying images and trying animation, but my arrogant mind wanted to create my own characters.. which leads to -surprisee- another period of ✨no motivation✨. lovely, that game has never appeared in my agenda ever again.

because then i decided to try animating in alight motion! that one actually made progress, but there were a lot of limits to using such a complex app on a very limited storage tablet that crashes every time i attempt to use graphs. but then again, at least i got somewhere with animating eye blinking (very crappy indeed).

maybe instead i would find interest in gaming again- oh nope! my computer breaks after moving to a new country and now my internet sucks even more! goodbye to my 2 year old sims4 game and my blender projects! nice, so now i have to reinstall sims4 and roblox and maybe if i did have more storage, i could redownload blender! but oh no... my new computer only has a intel i3 core that can't even let me write this post on tumblr without lagging! not to mention internet speed limits + data limit (i have to use mobile hotspot, and before anyone says 55 GB is enough per month, i am someone who searches on google 300+ times per day and results do use quite the bit, so does scrolling through youtube shorts).

sigh. what can I do? my friends are a 9 hour flight away and they don't talk to me, my parents don't believe that depression exists, and i have no motivation and am too lazy to do shit. what to do? i have no idea. but if anyone plays rhythm hive let me know..

[pastedpast]

Hello and welcome to my blog, 'pasted past'! It is a jumble of thoughts and scraps of information cut and pasted (hence the pun) from the Internet and jotted down from books and magazines which focus on art, history, nature, music, travel, film, and more besides. Occasionally, I write about personal stuff, but I tend to discard posts with particular opinions after a while.

I've been working on this blog as a labour of love since February 2011, and never more than in the last year or so. I am continuously editing: amending, updating, even deleting posts. I tap words into my mobile phone, tablet or computer, whichever is closest to hand. I could be on a train, or the beach, at my desk, or in bed - whenever the ideas and inspiration strike and I just have to note it all down. Like me, it is a work in progress, forever changing, developing, evolving. I don't know how many people read my blog, but I write it for myself, regardless. It has provided a peaceful oasis/refuge for my mind, giving me something else to concentrate on during times of turmoil!

My other hobbies include making scrapbooks, bookmarks, digital collages, decoupaging tins and boxes, and recording the events of my life in diaries. I like working with scissors, paper and glue, the original tools for cutting and pasting. I'm limited in both talent and resources, but, never mind, it keeps me out of trouble!

Ideally, I'd like to publish some sort of book using a selection of my favourite pieces of work on this blog, but that's unlikely. I've currently written over 1800 posts, many of which still require editing and those with pictures would cost a fortune to print out in bulk. Plus, I'm not sure about copyright issues. I've tried my best to credit all sources on the blog, but have sometimes slipped up and forgotten. Maybe I will publish another type of book one day, or just stick to my scrapbooks. I love books: browsing, buying, collecting and, oh yeh, reading them, so no wonder I want to make ones of my own as well!

On a final note, the photographs above are of the 'Spanish omelette in progress' that I made with my friend after I returned from Barcelona last month. I don't get chance to do much cooking these days as I haven't had my own kitchen for four years. I didn't bother taking a pic of the end result because it looked nothing like the magnificent culinary masterpiece I discovered while I was there (totally scrumptious!), although, to be fair, our effort was tasty enough, especially as I served it with fresh green beans and cheese. I originally posted the photos on Facebook, but I've recently deactivated my profile (again!). I prefer writing (and editing) on this platform instead. Sure, I don't always know where to place commas and I know next to nothing about the more advanced mechanics of sentence structure, e.g clauses, or things like split infinitives - I didn't have particularly good schooling in my teens - but I try my best to write as clearly I can*.

*A tutor at university once commented in some feedback about an assignment I'd done that I wrote "lucidly and engagingly" - great praise I will always treasure!

[kookiecrumb]

Aw, I love you, anon. Yeah.

JJK || Walk the Line

pairing: professor!jungkook x rich business student/fem!y/n

warnings: smut (18+), explicit language, alcohol drinking, sir kink, unprotected sex*(don't do this), rough sex/marking, creampie <3 , very very very brief breastplay, smol praise

You're not so proud of this.

The summer before your final semester in college was unforgettable.

Shit happened, and you ended up in Dubai with all of your girlfriends, getting wasted out of your mind with like 30 oil princes.

You were hot. You were young. You had the time of your life.

You drank Pink Whitney like water for a week straight. There was no recovering from that hangover...ever.

Three weeks later you're back at college with the most stubborn headache you've ever had and terrible nausea whenever you so much as smell a drop of vodka.

You still have to show up to your Business 102 class at 8 AM in order to collect the syllabus.

Outside of the lecture room, you stared at the name of the professor on your schedule for at least five minutes before shaking off the impossible feeling of familiarity and walking in.

It couldn't possibly...

You set down your bag on the small arm-desk supported by the chair and sit down before reaching over and pulling out your tablet.

That's when you lift your eyes up and see him-- Jeon Jungkook's tell-tale slender figure, his tattooed hands, and his charming smile. You've seen that body naked, felt those hands squeeze your ass and tits, kissed that smile.

Fuck no.

You lower your eyes, as if that would make you invisible to him. It doesn't, obviously.

You can feel his eyes burning into the top of your head. He's watching you curiously, as if he can quite remember where he knows you from. This is good news. Maybe he doesn't recognize you.

"Y/N....right?" Jungkook approaches your chair. "I really didn't expect you to be in my class this semester."

There goes that theory.

"Yeah, well...I am a business major and this is a required class, so," you mumble.

"Hey, listen...I want to keep things professional between us. I know we had some fun before this, but my job is very important to me," he elaborates.

You're not even looking at him. How disrespectful. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, hm?" Jungkook demands.

It's second nature that you lift your head up and meet his glinting eyes. "Yes, sir," you say.

"I know you're used to calling me that..." He laughs, throwing himself back to the front of the room to start writing on the board. "Call me Jungkook, here."

You nod in agreement.

You're unable to focus for the entire class, quietly wondering if it's too late to change professors. Student services is probably gonna bitch at you for it.

Actually, it might be worth the trouble.

Jungkook's lectures were well-thought out and he had really good PowerPoints on the material, so overall he was a good professor...it's just that you can't look at him and not remember the time he made love to you in his vacation home in Barcelona.

It was a stellar night. You remember every second of it vividly. He told you he was there for a convention and the beaches, but he stayed an extra week to explore the city.

"Just like how I'll explore your body," he said in the same breath.

The glittering city overlooked your two bodies as they grinded, pushed, and pulled against one another.

"I'm going to pound this pussy until you're dizzy," he hummed against your skin, grabbing a handful of your ass and jiggling it. "So tight,," he groaned.

You've fucked on the sands of Barcelona the morning after on a private beach, too. While the sun rose, he made love to your body unlike you've ever felt before.

You stare at the wall now, daydreaming of that fateful night.

He catches you and calls you out for it. "Y/N, can you tell me what Computer Aided Manufacturing entails and what kind of firm might benefit from the use of CAM?"

"Uhh, yeah," you swallow. "A public...limited corporation might benefit from CAM."

Jungkook gestures for you to elaborate, shifting his weight on his feet.

"Because...They'd have a lot of investors who would fund the working capital."

He nods. "Good girl,"

You choke on your iced coffee. Who the hell does he think he is?! At least five other women give you a death stare after he says that. You're in no mood to make enemies.

After class, you try your best to blend into the dwindling mob crowding the exit so that he doesn't pull you over to talk again. In fact, you don't ever want to talk to Jeon Jungkook ever again.

As you navigate campus, you try to keep your mind off of what just happened and figure out a place to eat for lunch. Your phone goes off.

It's a number you haven't seen in a long time, but you do recognize it. It's your professor.

If you don't answer it, you might risk your grade in the class. What if it's some important information about the syllabus? You can't take that chance. You answer the phone.

"This is Y/N, what can I do for you?" you ask, cheerfully.

Jungkook sits on his desk on the other end of the line, swinging his legs. "I don't know...explain to me what you were doing in Dubai three weeks ago? I saw that video."

"That's literally none of your concern and I thought we agreed to never talk about it again," you say, harshly.

"Oh, but I want to," he insists. "I want to talk about that night in Barcelona. I want to talk about how you were squirming in your seat today. This phone call never happened by the way..." Jungkook smirks.

Of course it didn't.

"Okay, well...I don't," you reply.

"Really? You're telling me right now that you were zoning out in my class thinking about some other guy?" Jungkook laughed. "Do you take me as naive?"

"No, Jungkook."

"Huh?" He pushes.

"No, Sir."

He smiles and ends the call. He then proceeds to send you a simple text message with an address attached. "Be there at 8."

You look up from your phone, trying not to look too obvious. Despite your mind telling you how fucked up this is...when have you ever let that stop you?

A few hours later...

He leans on the frame of his door, sipping on a "world's greatest teacher" mug with his sweat pants on as you arrive at his place. You have the strongest urge to wipe that cocky grin off his face.

Jungkook moves out of the way so that you can walk inside and so that he could close the door.

You take off your shoes, carefully placing them in the shoe holders before slipping on a pair of inside shoes.

There's scent of cooking garlic in the air, with undertones of steamed tomatoes and basil.

"Look at you, culturally aware..." Jungkook praises, putting his mug down on the kitchen counter. "Thank you."

"I just don't want to get your floors dirty..." you say, stepping up towards the kitchen. "What are you cooking tonight?"

Jungkook smiles, glad you asked. "It's just a chicken primavera. It's vegetarian, actually, so there's no chicken."

"Oh, it smells good..." you sigh.

He comes up behind you and holds your waist flush against his body. "We can eat. You smell just as good..."

Every time you kissed him you tasted the food he made with his own two hands, the same hands that touched you so intimately in Spain touch you now, sending pleasure through your body in waves.

He has mirrors in his room so that every time you open your eyes you watch your body being fucked religiously by the godly form that is your business professor.

The command he has over your body is complete. The sticky warmth of his bare skin smacking against yours harmonized with every sound that escaped your lips. He swallowed every moan, languidly swirling his hips inside of you.

Every demand was met with a "Yes, Sir," and every compliant response earned a sultry "Good girl." You were his student, and he loved rewarding you.

"You're going to listen to me and only during those lectures. I don't care how wet you get from remembering how I fucked you. You won't fail my class," he kneads you harshly, imprinting on your ass.

",, mm!" You whine, rolling your eyes back with every life-giving thrust inside of your dripping cunt. It's thrilling, like an addiction. You can feel the familiar flutter along with the rapid palpitations of your heart.

You bury your face between his pillows and bring your hips up so he can use you better.

He whips his head back and groans deeply, his nails digging into your thighs as he smacks himself deep into your cervix. "Such a sweet little cunt,," he pants. "Ohh,,"

Jungkook lowers himself and starts to kiss up your back as he thrusts, planting adoring kisses down your back. A rush overcomes you at the realization of his affection.

"Mm!" You exclaim. "Fuck~! Fuck, if you don't stop I'm going to cum,"

Jungkook doesn't relent. He continues his vigorous pace, his tattooed hands cupping your tits as his thighs slap against yours.

He gasps, suddenly, painting you with his cum. You convulse around him, creaming around him for every drop of it as a surge of euphoric pleasure surges through you.

Old habits die hard.

a/n: I get really giggly when I am being pounded into :). Imagine y/n as the giggly type if you can. Should I make it a series? lmk.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence. 

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.” 

Ao3 Link: Here 

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here 

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return. 

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks. 

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo. 

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.” 

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew: 

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious. 

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him. 

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…” 

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat. 

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove. 

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.” 

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—” 

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.” 

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.” 

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—” 

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.” 

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs. 

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk. 

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did. 

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue. 

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—” 

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.” 

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—” 

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.” 

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses. 

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.” 

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot. 

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him. 

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.” 

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached. 

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.” 

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore. 

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure. 

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.” 

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head. 

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do. 

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations? 

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability. 

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position. 

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.” 

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.” 

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!” 

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.” 

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova. 

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.” 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current. 

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out. 

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies. 

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight. 

He needed a fucking drink. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs. 

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy. 

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets. 

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools. 

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb. 

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again. 

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more. 

Except… he’d been standing still that time. 

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet. 

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving. 

“What the fu—” 

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later. 

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs. 

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face. 

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots. 

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth. 

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight. 

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue. 

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky. 

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way. 

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them. 

Dynamight was here to get the job done. 

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head. 

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc. 

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him. 

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet. 

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god. 

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch. 

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him. 

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought. 

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze. 

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar. 

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals. 

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again. 

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air. 

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window. 

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then… 

Nothing. 

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

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time. 

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes. 

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop. 

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat. 

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place. 

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way. 

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to. 

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled. 

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business. 

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia. 

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite. 

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least. 

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers. 

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst. 

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things. 

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself. 

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps. 

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself. 

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good. 

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet. 

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help. 

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful. 

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful. 

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own. 

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone. 

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train. 

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you. 

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.” 

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief. 

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.” 

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts. 

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking. 

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away. 

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out. 

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments. 

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes. 

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor. 

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass. 

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms. 

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms. 

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash? 

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs. 

That sounded… closer. 

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky. 

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals. 

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person. 

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth. 

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack. 

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down. 

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air. 

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air. 

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached. 

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street. 

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill. 

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed. 

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it. 

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later. 

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames. 

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene. 

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him. 

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped. 

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window. 

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

[cevans-is-classic]

Yes, Professor

For @bucky-soldat Sorry it took me so long, Darling, but here is my take on Professor Bucky for you. I did the best I could with my limited Brat knowledge. Love you!

18+ only, please. Sexual Content, Power Play, Dom/Sub vibes, Brat energy, language, fingering, and slight oral.

More can be found over at My Masterlist

Bucky? Marvel Masterlist (Link to be updated)

He scrawled the pen across the paper, stopping when he heard a sigh, a turn of a page, and someone’s shoes hitting the leg of a chair before shaking his head and continuing. His ears rang with the near silence in the room. His class was one of the few that students requested to take. He excelled at challenging his pupils in academia while reminding them they are human; they make mistakes and must learn from those mistakes. The way he taught was more easygoing than most, but he always made it clear he expected attendance and focus during his exams.

He taught them to grow not to piss away their talents.

Someone coughed a cut-off cough that had his head rising to make sure no one was looking at anyone else’s papers. Most eyes looked down, focused on their own exam — pens moving across pages, pages being turned in books to help find the answer some even lifting their study guides up to read over.

All of his students were doing what they were told.

Except you.

Your eyes were on his. Pen tap, tap, tapping on the table in a quiet staccato that set his teeth on edge. Your eyes followed him as he shifted in his seat. Let his own eyes trace the line of your legs under the desk the way your foot swung in the air drawing him in. He could call you out, tell you to cut the noise and focus on your work, — he didn’t — instead, he raised one eyebrow, leaned back in his chair, and spread his legs; looking to all the world as if he were stretching out a kink in his back. But by the way, your eyes went wide — legs coming together — he knew you understood what he meant.

Turning back to his papers he could feel your eyes on him all the way to the final ding of his alarm.

Rising from his seat, he spread his fingertips over the surface of his desk and looked out over his class, “Well done, all.” He starts, “Leave the exams at the end of my desk and I’ll see you Monday.”

The group of students moved about, exiting the room after setting their exams down one by one until it was only him there. He looked at the door, the clock above it ticking away as he shuffled the papers into a neat pile and rearranged the utensils on his desk. When a paper slipped out from between the exams as he moved them into his bag, he caught it, holding it up, and smiled.

Professor Barnes never left his office on time. Most of the history department never did. If they did not find him in the arts departments or meandering through the science building — he was in his office next to his classroom — bent over paperwork or reading on his tablet. Your palms still sweat — even months later — waiting outside his door, hand rising to knock before dropping back down to your thigh to wipe across your jeans. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your fist to knock, knuckles rapping on the door three times, then once more in quick succession. It helped ease the tension in your gut.

It took a moment — longer than you wish — to hear the heavy footsteps on the opposite side of the door that swung open to reveal the man himself.

Professor James Barnes, hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of his neck, tie gone, dark red shirt unbuttoned past his collar bones and one hand — sleeves rolled up to reveal the strength of his forearms — tucked into the pocket of his charcoal grey slacks. The other held the door open, fingers tapping along the edge.

“You’re late.” He walked back into his office, not looking back, and you followed, head tilted to the floor to hide the flush in your cheeks.

“I didn’t know I was on a schedule, Sir.” You bite your lip, looking up to watch him lean against his desk, crossing his legs where he stood and pressed his lips together at you.

One eyebrow raised, he looked you up and down, “I’m a busy man.”

“Of course.” He crossed his arms — exposed forearms flexing — making your mouth water and stomach tighten with anticipation.

“You didn’t finish your exam.” He lifted, taking two long strides towards you and moving around your body to hover over your shoulder, “Didn’t even sign your name, yet, you had time to leave me a note, Doll.” His hand moved from behind you a slip of paper between his fingers showing where you’d scrawled Yes, Professor in scratchy ink. Your cheeks burned hotter, toes curling in your shoes.

“I wanted to ask for an extension, Sir.” You turned your cheek, looking at him from the corner of your eye, “Distracted.”

Bucky huffed, “Distracted by what? The other silent students in the classroom?” His hand disappeared before a warm, strong palm settled low on your back. “Maybe the clock over the door?” He leaned in blowing air across your neck. “Having a daydream as you looked out the window. What could you be fantasizing about in my classroom?” His hand moved from the small of your back, up your spine to pause at your neck, brushing the hair out of the way to hover his lips over your skin.

A shiver went down your spine. “Only one thing, Sir.”

Bucky hummed, “Tell me.” His hand followed the length of your shoulder, down your arms, and back up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“Daydreams are private.” The snark was out before you could stop yourself, his lips moving from your neck, his hand dropping from your arm and you ached from the absence. His steps were slow as he moved around you, coming to stand before you and raise a brow.

“Nothing about you is private to me, Sweetheart.” His voice had dropped low.

You fought not to squirm, eyes staying firm on his. “Plenty of me is.” You bite your lip again, “Professor.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared. This wasn’t even your brattiest attitude, this was child’s play compared to your usual snark, but after being away for two weeks having to rely on late-night phone calls and your own hand to satisfy you — tensions were high between the two of you.

His blue eyes burned hot as he stared at you down. “Seems we need to remedy this, Doll.” His words were smooth, despite the tension in his shoulders.

“You can try-” Bucky’s hand came up, slowing enough to telegraph his intentions before his fingers wrapped around your throat. Warm, calloused digits pressing into the skin of your neck, thumb pushing against your pulse point. You could feel his palm as you swallowed, his hang tightening a beat, releasing a fraction.

“Doll,” He stepped forward, forehead inches from yours, “One of these days I’m going to fuck some manners into you.” His lips crashed against yours, tongue and teeth all at once, drawing you in — stealing your breath until your whole body was buzzing with need. Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat as his tongue explored the inside of your mouth. He controlled every breath you took from the blood flow he allowed to your brain to the way he captured the weak moans escaping you with his mouth. Within seconds you felt surrounded by him. The overall massive bulk of the man was intoxicating alone, add the slightest bit of power play, and gone you were. Wanting Bucky to have you in any way, he seemed fit.

He always did.

When he pulled back, lips curling into a satisfied smirk as you tried to breathe, you whined, thighs squeezing together, “Look at you.” he cooed, “Hardly even touched you and you’re aching for it.”

“Bu-”

His hand squeezed once in a warning. “Doll, we’re in my office. Who am I when we’re here?”

Your core clenched, thighs squeezing together again begging for some kind of relief, “Professor.” Bucky’s smirk grew, all teeth and flashing blue eyes, as he pulled you back in for another kiss. With this one he pulled you in, letting his hands explore your body down over your shoulders, feeling your chest sliding his fingers across your sides down to your ass to cup it in his hands.

“I missed this,” He murmured into your lips, “Miss the way it looks as you bounce on my cock.”

“Let me show you then.” You tried to reach for him, but Bucky clicks his tongue at you.

“Not so fast, Doll.” He squeezes your ass, spreading your cheeks as far as he can in your jeans, pushing your lower half into his. The hard outline of his cock was devastating, begging to be used.

You pout into the kiss, “Professor.”

“Now, Now, Doll,” He moved backward, bringing you with him until he could lower himself onto the edge of his desk, parting his legs to help guide you between them, “You’ve been teasing me. Making you watch you with all those other men — those boys — making me see you walk around in tight skirts, shorts that make your ass look amazing and made me fuck my hand when I’d rather be fucking you.”

His hands grab your hips, move to the front of your jeans to pop the button, and tug at the zipper, “Why are you wearing pants, Sweetheart? Making it hard for me to get my mouth on you.” A whimper leaves you as he shimmies the jeans over your hips, down your thighs where they pool around your ankle.

“Take them off.” You kick them away, breath coming in shaky pants as Bucky traces his finger over the wet cotton clothing your heat, “I can feel you,” He rubs his fingers hard making you gasp and jerk your hips forward, “Soaking fucking wet and I’ve hardly touched you.” He slid the fabric to the side, thick fingers spreading you open.

“Professor-” You reach forward to grip his shoulder as he slides two fingers inside you — fucking them in and out without warning — a gasp catches in your throat, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into the throbbing bundle of nerves, “Fuck, yes.” Bucky moving his thumb over you, his lips attaching to your neck to kiss across the column of your throat, teeth skimming your skin, nipping at your collar bone, and biting hard enough to make you groan and fuck yourself down on his fingers.

“You’re always so damn wet, Sweetheart.” He moved his thumb faster — fingers following the same pace — curving inside of you, “Practically begging for my cock.”

“Please.” Your hands curled around shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, and if you could get a little more friction you could-

Bucky pulled his fingers free, your groan of displeasure making his eyes flash with mirth. “Bucky why-” He grabs your chin, fingers wet and covered in your juices.

“Two weeks, Doll,” He traces his thumb over your lips, the musk of you heavy on his digits, “You kept me wanting for two weeks.”

“Bucky, I was busy.” His fingers replace his thumb being shoved into your mouth, making you gag from the sudden intrusion.

“I understand, Baby.” He keeps his fingers in your mouth, his other hand falling from your hips to his pants where he undoes his belts, pops the button, and tugs the zipper to pull his cock out, head red and leaking in his hand as his fingers curl over your tongue making your drool around his hand.

Bucky strokes himself, collecting the pre-come with his thumb and spreading it over the head, “I understand, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” He removes his fingers, “You’re going to make it up to me, Doll, and if you’re good enough.” He motions for you to kneel in front of him. You drop; knees hitting the office floor with a crack and Bucky slides his hand across your jaw to the back of your neck — wet fingers carding through your hair to get a handful. The head of his cock pushes against your lips, your eyes cut up to look at him with anticipation tightening your stomach. Your hands move to his thighs, helping steady yourself as he slides his length past your lips letting the weight of it rest on your tongue.

His head falls backward, fingers flexing in your hair, “If you’re good enough.” He huffs, jerking his hips forward to fuck himself into your mouth, “I’ll let you come.”

***

If you cannot tell, I don't know shit about Dom/Sub vibes, but I'm doing the best I can! I hope you enjoy this love!! Thank you for all the support lately.

[pitubea1910]

Ready

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Featuring: Avengers

Word count: 5k

Warning: some swearing, alcohol, mention of sex, a bit of teasing.

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: -

Masterlist

A few months ago, you and nine other recruits received a phone call saying to be at the training facilities first time in the morning. Once you got there, you were told that you would be receiving extra training, long hours and double effort. Whenever you asked why, they just said it was classified.

After two months of training ten hours per day, seven days a week, being put through several trials and tests, you were called to the office of Maria Hill –the head of all the recruitment process-. To your surprise, she wasn’t alone when you got there: Nick Fury was there.

You had never met him in person, although you had heard many stories about him. And his presence was as intimidating as you imagined. Or even more. He had a deep voice that shook to your core, a way of talking that let you know he was someone not to mess with, he owned S.H.I.E.L.D and he knew it.

“Agent (Y/L/N)”, Hill started as soon as you took a seat after recovering from the surprise of finding Nick Fury in the room. “Let me introduce you to Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Yeah, I know who… he is”, you said with a small smile. There was no one around the facility who didn’t know who this man was. Maria Hill smiled too.

“Nice to meet you, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Fury said. “I have been following your training for the last two months quite closely.”

Your felt your mouth go dry. He had been following your training?

“And I have to say it is quite impressive”, he added. He took a tablet from Hill’s desk and swiped the screen a couple of times. “When it comes to strategy there’s no one who can beat you, you’re strong, fast, your combat skills could be a match for Black Widow’s… definitely impressive.”

“Thank you, sir”, was all you could say. You knew you were good, but you never thought you would be good enough to hear it from Nick Fury himself. He was a legend.

“As you know, these last two months we have been testing you on a daily basis”, Hill said and you nodded. Of course you knew. You could feel it in every bone and muscle in your body. “What you don’t know is why.”

“And I guess you’re going to tell me?” You asked, looking at the two of them.

Fury put the tablet back on the desk without taking his eye off you. You would be lying if you said he didn’t make you nervous, but you had the feeling that looking away wouldn’t help you there, so you were determined to hold his eye. After a few minutes, you thought you could see a hint of smile on Fury’s lips, but you probably just imagined it.

“The Avengers have requested a new member for their team”, he simply said.

If you had been drinking something, you would have choked on it or spitted out for sure. Out of all the things you thought this meeting was about, the last thing you expected was something like this.

“The Avengers?” You asked. “As in… Captain America, Black Widow and Iron Man?”

“Are there any other Avengers that we don’t know of?” Fury asked with a teasing tone.

“Fair enough”, you mumbled.

“We chose 10 candidates and we have been putting you through tests and trials without telling you why”, Hill said now taking the tablet and showing you some graphics. “All of you started off with enthusiasm, showing the best results you had got since you got recruited. However, as the weeks passed, most of your colleagues’ performance started to deteriorate.”

“We had meetings with them”, Fury said. “We asked if there was something wrong, why this change when they had proven to be among the best of their class. They said that they were tired. That they didn’t know what was going on, what was the point of all this suffering.”

“I never got any meeting”, you said.

“Because your performance only got better”, Hill said, showing you a graphic with your name on it. “You have been the only one who, despite not having a purpose, a goal, not knowing what was going on, kept on working as hard as you did on the first day.”

“And that, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Fury said, “is exactly what we need. Someone who won’t fail, who won’t slow down, who will be there every day no matter what, with the same spirit as the first day. However, as much as we thought you are the perfect candidate, we are not the ones who have the final say.”

“Then?” You asked confused.

“We sent all of your files to The Avengers, with all the progress of the last two months. And they have made a decision. They want you, Agent (Y/L/N).”

A week later you packed all of your belongings in a suitcase and left the S.H.I.E.L.D HQ in a black SUV to move into The Avengers Headquarters in Upstate New York. Their welcome had been incredible. Since the very first moment you walked in the residential quarters of the huge compound, you were warmly welcomed by the team.

It took you a time to get used to your new life. You still had to train every day and soon you found out that it was a harder training than the one you did as a simple recruit. Obviously, they didn’t hold their punches. At first, you ended up at the infirmary most of the days, but eventually you started getting stronger and getting used to this new way of fighting. There was less theory and more instinct. And, soon enough, you started going on missions.

At first, they would be recon missions, nothing major. However, in a few months you proved yourself to be able to do more. You would never forget your first mission with Steve, Tony, Bucky and Natasha. It was the most exciting, exhausting and hard day of your life and, despite coming back injured, everyone kept on telling you how amazed they were by you, your work and your skills.

They took care of you, visited you every day until you got better, helped with your recovery and to get back on your feet in no time. You had found a family in them and it looked like they saw you as one of them now.

“You know what day is it tomorrow?” You asked when you walked into the kitchen.

You had just finished your training and had walked into the kitchen to have a smoothie. As usual, since you had the same training hours scheduled, Bucky was there as well.

Since the beginning, you had started training with Bucky as your mentor. You didn’t really fight against him, since he could knock you out without even trying, but he was there to observe and correct, give you advice, put more weight on your weights and push your limits.

When you first started training with him, he wouldn’t talk much. But, eventually, he started opening up and you gladly discovered that underneath all that sulking attitude was a really funny, easy going, teasing and loving kind of guy.

You spent so much time together that soon you found yourself looking around for him every time you walked into a room, sitting in front of him in every meal, next to him every time you would watch a movie, spending hours in his room just talking or playing videogames. You just couldn’t picture your life without him in it anymore.

“Saturday?” He said, throwing a bottle of water at you, which you caught without problem.

“Something else?” You asked, unscrewing the cap. Bucky thought for a moment and shook his head. “Really? I should be offended. A year ago, your life changed.”

“Did it?” He asked, a smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes and threw the cap of the bottle at him. He laughed and dodged it. “I know, I know. It will be a year since the most annoying person in the world walked through those doors with that lost puppy look on her face.”

“I wasn’t lost!” You exclaimed.

“So you’re annoying?” He teased.

“Not as much as you are”, you said and stuck your tongue out. “Maybe we should celebrate.”

“Why?”

“When was the last time someone put up with you for so long?” This time, he was the one narrowing his eyes at you, which made you laugh. “But seriously, it doesn’t have to be a party. But we could have a drink all together or something.”

“Ask Tony”, Bucky said. “He will organise anything in the next 45 minutes.”

“Good point”, you said nodding your head. “I’ll talk to him.”

You were about to walk out of the kitchen, fully intending to talk to Tony as soon as possible, when Bucky called your name. You turned around to find him walking over you.

“Yes?” You asked.

Once he was standing in front of you, he sighed and moved some hair that had flown out of your ponytail and put it behind your ear. He caressed your cheek and looked into your eyes, making your heart beat louder and faster. You took a deep breath, trying not to look down at his lips.

“A year ago, I met the most important person in my life”, he said. “She’s strong, funny, annoying as hell and incredibly oblivious. But I wouldn’t change her for anything.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek softly before winking an eye at you and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you flustered, confused and on the edge of fainting.

***

Just like Bucky had said, as soon as you said to Tony that you would like to have a little celebration, he took out his phone and started organising a little party. You made it clear that you didn’t want or need anything big, but once Tony started organising a party there was no way of knowing the size of it until you were in it.

“I thought you didn’t want anything big”, Bucky said when you stepped into the main living room of the residential quarters the following evening.

Looking around, you barely knew anyone. You had no idea how Tony had managed to pull this out in such short notice. There was people everywhere, food, alcohol music and banners everywhere saying ‘Happy Avengesary (Y/N)’. It was incredible.

“This is what happens when you leave Tony in charge”, Steve, who walked in after you two, said.

“I’m not complaining”, Natasha said with a huge smile as she looked around. “See you later guys.”

“Where is she going?” You asked, looking at her as she got lost in the crowd.

“She has seen that IT guy she likes”, Steve said with a chuckle.

“I say we make the best out of this and get a drink”, Sam said.

“And that’s the most intelligent idea I have heard so far”, you said and took Sam’s hand to follow him through the crowd.

The bartenders that Tony had hired knew exactly who you were and the reason you were having this celebration. So the moment they saw you, they made sure you had a drink in your hand without even asking for it. It looked like Tony had told them what you liked.

The next couple of hours went by in a blur. Despite not knowing most of the people in the party, it was obvious that they knew who you were and many kept on stopping you to congratulate you on the work you had been doing the past year or just to take a photo with you. Definitely, that was something you would never get used to: being a public figure.

When you finally managed to sit down on the couch, next to Bucky, you didn’t even know how many hands you had shaken, how many photos you had taken and how many hugs you had given. But your mind was buzzing.

“How you doing, superstar?” Bucky smiled when you let yourself fall on the couch.

“Exhausted”, you admitted.

“It will wear off, don’t worry”, Sam said, patting your shoulder. “Once they get used to you, they won’t pay much attention.”

“Unless you’re Captain America or Thor, of course”, Clint winked.

“Shut up”, Steve rolled his eyes.

“It took us an hour to get some milk from the grocery store”, Clint said. “An hour because people kept on asking Steve for photos and autographs.”

“One would think that after a century, no one would be impressed by Captain America right?” Sam laughed.

“It’s not Captain America”, you said. “It’s… you.”

“What?” Steve asked confused, which made you laugh.

“Are you really that oblivious?” Wanda laughed as well.

“You’re a specimen, man”, Sam winked playfully, making you all laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that”, Steve said as you could all see him blushing.

“Oh, trust me. It is”, you said. “Everyone has a crush on Captain America”, you added.

“Do you?” Bucky asked, his arm casually over the back of the couch and your shoulders.

“Don’t you?” You asked back with a laugh.

“I saw him putting newspaper in his shoes to look taller”, Bucky shrugged. “It’s kind of a turn off.”

“So that means that there is a turn on?” Clint asked wiggling his eyebrows.

“There’s always at least one turn on”, you smirked.

“Oh really?” Bucky smirked. “What turns you on, (Y/L/N)?”

“Right back at you, Barnes”, you said, looking at him with a playful smile.

“Okay, this just gave me an idea!” Sam said.

You forced yourself to look away from Bucky, whose eyes were burning through yours. You had felt that electricity running between you two many times before, but you had never felt the heat you felt at the moment. So you needed to focus on something else beside the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Please, enlighten us”, Natasha said.

“What about an old good game of Truth or Dare?” He suggested. You laughed out loud, just like Wanda and Natasha.

“Are we 16 now?” Steve said, although he didn’t look like he rejected the idea completely.

“Afraid of airing your dirty laundry, Rogers?” Clint asked.

“I have no dirty laundry to air”, the alluded said with an innocent smile.

“Yeah right”, Natasha laughed. “Okay, let’s do this”, she said.

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Why not?” Natasha shrugged. “It’s always fun to get to know each other in different ways”, she winked.

You sighed and shrugged. It looked like you didn’t have a choice. As soon as you all agreed, Sam asked a waiter to bring a couple of bottles of tequila, shot glasses for everyone and an empty bottle. In addition, Bucky he asked for a bottle of the Asgardian liquor Steve and Bucky used to drink in these situations.

“It’s no fun if two of us can’t get drunk”, he explained once they brought the small bottle and everything was settled.

“Fair enough”, you laughed. “Okay, who goes first?” You asked.

“You’re the honouree, so…” Sam said.

“Okay”, you laughed and spun the bottle that stopped pointing at Sam, who smiled widely at you. “Truth or dare?”

“Let’s start with a truth”, Sam said.

“Have you ever practised kissing in a mirror?” You smiled.

“First, that’s a lame question. Second… yes”, he admitted, making you all laugh. “I was 10, okay? And I was nervous about a potential first kiss”, he shrugged.

“That’s cute”, you admitted still laughing.

“Okay, here we go”, Sam spun the bottle and this time it landed on Bucky.

“Truth”, Bucky quickly said.

“Mmm…” Sam smirked after looking at you for a brief second. “Would you make out with someone in this group?”

Bucky looked at Sam like he wanted to kill him and you felt him tense up beside you. You looked up to him although his eyes were fixed on Sam, whose smiled only grew bigger.

“You can always drink. Although that will give us half an answer”, Sam shrugged.

“I would”, Bucky finally said. You raised both eyebrows and looked up again, surprised.

“With who?” You asked.

“That’s not part of the question, doll”, Bucky winked before spinning the bottle, which landed on Natasha. Yet, you didn’t stop thinking about it.

“Dare, of course”, she shrugged.

“I dare you to go to that IT guy and ask him out”, Bucky smiled.

“You know I don’t ask out”, Natasha said.

“Is Black Widow backing off a dare?” Clint smiled.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, her pride obviously taken the best of her. Immediately, she got up and you all looked at her while she walked up to the IT guy. It was a quick conversation and, by the end of it, the guy looked like was about to marry her while she came back with her face as red as her hair.

“I’ll get back at you, Barnes”, she said, spinning the bottle.

There were all kind of dares and questions. The more you drank, the juicier they got without even realising it. At some point, Steve was playing without his shirt –to the delight of many of the guests-, Clint was speaking only with the vowel E, Wanda was wearing Natasha’s clothes and viceversa and you were on your pyjamas.

“Okay, let’s go”, Natasha said when it was her turn to spin the bottle after reading out loud the last text she had sent –Rated X-. “Finally!” She said when it landed on Bucky. “Barnes?”

All along, every time it was Bucky’s turn, there had been numerous hints of him liking someone, someone he would sleep with, his crush, but no name had come out of his mouth. You didn’t even know Bucky liked someone, which was strange since you spent so much time together, and to say you were curious was a misunderstanding.

“Truth”, he said.

“Playing it safe, huh?” Natasha smiled.

“You’re a dangerous woman, Romanoff”, Bucky said, his fingers brushing your shoulder absently.

“Fine. Have it your way”, she said. “Is (Y/N) the one you’ve been talking about all along? The one you would make out with, sleep with, have a crush on?”

Bucky’s whole body tensed up, just like yours, with that question. It was obvious she had been saving it for quite a long time and it looked like everyone was waiting for someone to drop the bomb. They all looked at Bucky smiling a little, as if they knew something you ignored, waiting.

“Damn you, Natasha”, Bucky finally chuckled.

“Would you prefer a dare?” She smiled widely.

“I don’t trust your dares”, Bucky said.

“Then… answer or drink. Although… drinking would be an answer itself”, she innocently shrugged and winked an eye at him.

You saw Bucky biting his lower lip without looking at you, his eyes fixed on Nat, as he was deliberately trying not to look at you. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you swore you would explode if he didn’t say something soon.

“Yes”, he finally said, taking your breath away. “She is”

And he spun the bottle.

***

The game was finished in no time after that moment. Although you didn’t pay any attention to it anymore. All you could do was look at Bucky, waiting for him to look at you and explain what he had just said. However, all he did was smirking whenever he felt his eyes on you.

“Okay, come here”, he said once everyone had scattered around.

He took your hand and took you through the crowd. You didn’t know where he would take you until he scanned his finger print on the door that lead to Tony’s office. He let you walked in first and looked around to make sure no one was looking before closing the door.

“What was that?” You finally asked after a few moments.

“Do I really need to explain?” He smiled, getting closer to you which only made you nervous.

“I think? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” You asked.

“When would I say anything? When I was kicking your ass during training?” He asked.

“You don’t kick my ass”, you said. “We never even fight against each other because you’re too afraid of me kicking your ass”, you added, crossing your arms.

“You’re so damn blind”, he laughed shaking his head. “I don’t fight you because I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you. Even if it happened during training.”

You blinked a few times and looked away, trying so hard not to blush and failing completely. He was now so close that you could even feel his breath on you. It wasn’t the first time he was this close, but it was the first time it made you so nervous.

“That’s just another way of saying it”, you mumbled.

Bucky placed his index finger on your chin to make you look up at him and to his eyes before rubbing your cheek softly. His eyes moved down to your lips, just like yours to his, just in time to see him biting his bottom lip. Your breath got caught in your throat and an urgent need to kiss him overcame you.

“You drive me insane in every possible way, (Y/L/N)”, he said leaning in. You closed your eyes instinctively but his kiss never came. “But you’re not ready for it yet.”

You opened your eyes to see him slowly walking backwards, with a smirk on his face.

“What…? What are you doing?” You asked breathless.

“I could kiss you right now and make you realise that you feel the same way about me”, he said, a hand on the doorknob. “But I have decided that, if I have waited a year, I can wait a few more days and make you want it, drive you crazy just like you do with me.”

“Don’t walk away, James. Don’t you dare”, you said.

“See you later, doll”, he said.

Before you could even take a step forward, he opened the door and walked out the office, leaving you with your mouth open and your brain completely melted.

What the hell had just happened?

You had to take some time before you went back out to the party. Your heart had never beat like this. It felt like it would jump out of your chest at any given time and getting it back to ‘normal’ wasn’t easy.

When you finally made your way back out, you spotted Bucky at the bar, talking to Steve. When he saw you, his eyes were on you for a moment, while his lips formed a smug smirk, and then looked back at his friend to continue the conversation. All you wanted to do was go and punch him in that perfect face to kiss him afterwards. Or maybe kiss him first and punch later. You were confused.

The rest of the night you were completely unfocused. It felt like you couldn’t hold a single conversation, like you were zooming in and out all the time, looking around for Bucky and imagining his lips, hands, body on yours. In the end, you decided to leave the party earlier than expected. It wasn’t like anyone would notice, since most of the guests were too drunk to pay any more attention to you.

Once in your room and in your pyjamas –an oversize t-shirt and your underwear-, you laid on your bed and looked at the ceiling, thinking about what the hell had happened and trying to process how you felt about it.

It would be a huge lie to say that you didn’t have feelings for Bucky. You knew they had always been there, but you had always considered them platonic. He was one of the most attractive men you ever met and he was also kind, funny, witty, smart and incredibly thoughtful. You would have never thought he felt the same way about you. You thought all those times he flirted with you, it was just a game to him. Maybe you had been wrong.

You didn’t even know when you had fallen asleep, but when you opened your eyes, you heard the rain against the huge window of your room. You sighed and rubbed your eyes, your mind immediately racing as memories from last night flooded your head. Damn James Buchanan Barnes.

When you heard the buzzing of your phone, you sighed and picked it up from the bedside table to find a text message from the man himself.

“Training in 10 minutes”, the text said. He had to be kidding you. It was Sunday.

And did he really think he could just act like nothing?

“Sorry. As someone said to me last night: I’m not ready yet”, you texted back.

He read the text immediately, but it took him a little while to reply.

“If you’re not in the training room in 10 minutes, I’ll drag you there myself”, you shivered, knowing he fully intended to act on his threat. But you weren’t going to just do as he told you.

“Didn’t you say I drive you insane? Then good luck, babe”, you texted, smirking to yourself as you pictured the look on his face.

You knew what was going to happen. Maybe you were pushing him a bit, but you weren’t going to let him dictate what to do or when to get up. Especially after how flustered and frustrated he had left you the previous night.

Yes, you were dying to kiss him. That was all you could think about since last night. But, unless you were mistaken, he wanted that kiss as much as you did and you were going to get it, even if you had to drive him insane.

At first, you thought he would go to your room immediately, but it looked like he really waited those 10 minutes in case you showed up. Or maybe he was just waiting outside of your room, because exactly 11 minutes later, there was a knock on your room. You smiled to yourself and stretched out still in bed, but didn’t move.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you please tell him that I am not training today?” You said to the A.I.

“You know I can hear you, right?” You heard Bucky’s voice on the other side of the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you please ask Tony to make the rooms soundproof? That would be extremely useful for certain people”, you said.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, open (Y/N)’s door, please”, Bucky said.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Each room has its own personal protocols and can only be lifted with the permission of said owner”, the A.I said, which made you smile.

“Too bad, soldier”, you said.

“You know I can just kick him in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at the ceiling. You knew he could, but did you want to push him until that point? It could be fun, but you didn’t want to deal with Tony afterwards. You knew how much he hated when doors got kicked in –something that happened surprisingly often in the compound-.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, unlock the door, please”, you finally said.

The A.I. obeyed and unlocked the door. In a second, Bucky walked in and closed behind him. You looked at him from the bed, still not moving, and smiled. He was wearing his usual training gear –black sweatpants and a black t-shirt- and was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting.

“Do you need anything?” You asked.

“You were supposed to be in the gym 5 minutes ago”, he said with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, well…” you stretched out again, making sure your t-shirt went up a few inches, enough to let him see your underwear and belly. “I’m kind of having a lazy day”, you said with a smile as you saw his eyes on your exposed skin.

“I know what you’re doing”, he said. You raised both eyebrows.

“And what is it?” You asked innocently.

“Pushing me”, he said.

“Don’t be so egocentric, Barnes”, you said. “Not everything is around you.”

“Oh really?” He said.

Slowly, he walked around the bed, taking a seat just next to you. You got nervous when he leaned in, placing one hand around you to support himself as he got closer. You looked at his lips and then his eyes, which hide the smile he forced himself not to show.

“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about kissing me since last night”, he said in a low voice.

“I…” you mumbled, your eyes moving down to his lips, which finally curved up into a small smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you going to tell me that if I kissed you right now…” he said, almost brushing your lips with his, “you wouldn’t melt against me?”

You took a deep breath through your nose, trying to control your heart rate, which felt close to impossible. All about him was overwhelming and you had no idea how to manage his closeness. You just wanted to grab him by the neck and kiss him. However, it looked as if he was reading your mind. Just when you were about to move your hands, he moved his and pinned your wrists against the bed.

“Gym. 5 minutes”, he whispered so close that you thought you would die if he didn’t kiss you.

Then, he just let go, got up and walked to the door. You couldn’t believe this was the second time in less than twelve hours that he was going to leave you like this. You looked at the door to see him smirking before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, punching the mattress.

Five minutes later, you walked through the doors of the gym, still sulking and flustered. You had been quickly to put some leggings and a training top. If Bucky wasn’t going to give in or let you kiss him, you needed some other way to let your frustration out. Fighting.

“Maybe today we can try something different”, you said to Bucky, acting as if nothing had happened, as if your mind wasn’t full of imaged of him kissing your whole body.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Bucky asked while he adjusted the punching bag.

“Why don’t we fight?” You asked. Bucky laughed quietly and shook his head. “What?”

“Have you warmed up?” He asked.

“I’m warm enough, thank you” you said making him smile. Anyway, you started stretching since you didn’t want to pull any muscle or cause any injury. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You know I’m not going to fight you, doll”, he said, taking the bandages from the floor. “I could hurt you.”

Your eyes went to his hand as he started wrapping the bandages around it, wrapping it tightly. You had always loved watching that routine. There was something about the way he moved his hands, how he wrapped the bandages around them that was hypnotizing.

“You won’t”, you said, coming out of your little trance.

“How do you know it?” He asked.

“Because I trust you”, you shrugged. He looked at you for a moment and smiled.

“You just want an excuse to hit me because you’re frustrated”, he said.

“That’s just a bonus”, you shrugged and took the other pair of bandages from the floor when you finished stretching. “I really think it would be helpful to fight against an actual person and not just a bag.”

“You have fought against Natasha, Wanda, Peter, Scott and Clint many times”, he said.

You sighed while you wrapped the bandage around your left hand. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to change his mind. It wasn’t the first time you had this conversation and you understood his fear of hurting you, but you really wanted to punch him. Maybe if you caught him by surprise?

When you finished wrapping your hands, you looked at him. He was checking his own bandages and looked kind of focused on it. Without even taking a minute to consider your next move, you quickly took a step forward and threw your leg up to his stomach. To your surprise, your kick caught him completely off guard. Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to make him fall, but he took a few steps back with a hand against his stomach.

“What was that?” He asked with an amused smile.

“If you don’t want to fight me, okay”, you shrugged. “I’ll fight you.”

“Stop before you get hurt”, he said.

“Stop patronising me”, you said through gritted teeth.

Quickly, you launched against him, but he just took your arm before it came in contact with him and pushed you aside as if you were a mundane annoying fly. You groaned to yourself and turned to look at him. He looked at you smiling, which only infuriated you even more.

“It’s just facts, doll”, he shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes but decided to launch again. This time, you went for his face, but he grabbed your arm and twisted so your back was against his chest. You took a deep breath at the contact when his lips were on your cheek.

“Stop”, he whispered and nibbled your neck.

With a grunt, you stomped your heel against his feet. He hissed, which was enough for you to drive your elbow against his ribs and your fist against his nose when he leaned down breathless. You hooked your arms around his neck and used your weight to bring him down, straddling his waist and pinning his arms to the ground.

You knew how easily he could just turn the situation around, but maybe he didn’t expect to find himself like this so easily and all he did was looking at you with a smile playing on his lips.

“What are you going to do now, (Y/L/N)?” He asked.

If you were honest to yourself, you just wanted to tease him like he had teased you. But you also knew you weren’t strong enough, not after last night and that morning. You bite your lip and leaned down, wondering if this time he would finally give in. He didn’t move, but his eyes turned a bit darker as his eyes moved down to your lips.

“I should just leave you wanting it”, you whispered against his lips. He chuckled a little.

“You wouldn’t make it to the door”, he warned you. You knew it was true.

You let go of one of his hands, which quickly moved to your hair, moving it out of the way. You took a deep breath, enjoying the moment, before finally closing the distance between your lips.

The moment your lips touched, you let go of his other hand. Immediately, Bucky flipped you around to have you pinned under him and kiss you deeply. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to bring him impossibly close to you. A moan escaped his throat, making you smirk against his lips while your hands sneaked under his t-shirt and brushed his warm skin.

You wanted him. Badly. But, of course, he wasn’t going to give you everything in just a moment, let alone on the gym floor. Instead, he pulled away after a few minutes and looked at you.

“You always get your way, huh?” He whispered, gently brushing your nose with his, a gesture you never saw coming from the big and fiery Winter Soldier.

“I have my skills”, you smiled.

With a smile, Bucky got up and helped you up as well, although he didn’t move away from you. He caressed your cheek and kissed your forehead.

“What now?” You asked a bit nervous.

“Maybe we should start with breakfast?” He suggested.

You laughed nervously and nodded, letting him take your hand and lead you out of the gym while all you could think about was kissing him all over again. Maybe over breakfast.

[sleepy-belphie]

Hello! I don’t know if you’re doing headcannon requests but if you don’t mind could you do something along the lines of “the brothers find out mc likes to draw and drew the brothers”

Hi! I am doing hc requests so thank you for sending this in! It was actually really fun to write, I really hope you enjoy it <3 Got a little carried away with this one too lol

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

He’s doing room checks as usual

And you left your sketchpad/drawing tablet out on your desk

You catch sight of it a bit too late and can only watch as Lucifer moves from your dresser to your desk

He pauses as his eyes spot the sketchpad/tablet

He picks it up and looks at it before glancing at you

“May I?”

You nod and nervously watch him go through your work

His face is unreadable as he goes through drawing after drawing of him and his brothers

It feels like an eternity before he finishes

“Do you do commissions?”

It takes a moment for you to register what he’s said

“...what?”

“I’d like to commission you.”

If you do traditional art he asks for a 30x40 of him and his brothers

If you do digital art he asks for a colored, full-body piece of him and his brothers

He lets you decide how much you want to be paid

But he thinks it’s not enough so he pays you 55,000 Grimm

The 30x40 piece hangs in his study

The colored, full-body piece is printed, framed, and sitting on his desk

Mammon:

He bursts into your room one night when you’re finishing up a drawing of Satan and Asmo

You’re not fast enough to hide it from him

“Is that Satan and Asmo? Oi! Where’s my drawing!?”

Before you can show him anything else he’s speaking again

“N-not that I care! It’s hard to capture this perfection! I can see why you haven’t drawn me!”

He tries to act unbothered, but you can see past his tsundere ways

Once he’s done declaring how unbothered he is, you show him some pieces with him in it

He grabs the pad/tablet excitedly and snatches it from you to marvel over your work

“This is actually really good, ya know? I bet we could make some good Grimm off your little talent.”

You can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes

But you tell him that is not happening and take your pad/tablet back

He’s a bit mopey about it for a little but eventually lets it go when he sees you aren’t budging

When he does have a little bit of Grimm he does commission you for a small piece

The brothers’ eyes almost bulge out of their head when they hear that Mammon actually paid you for work

“What!? The Great Mammon can be nice sometimes! It doesn’t mean anything!”

It means a lot actually

But you’re a pro at reading between the lines with Mammon

Leviathan:

He’s on social media when he sees a drawing on his explore page that he’s absolutely in love with

The art style? Immaculate. He wanted to see so many of his favorite game and anime characters in this style

He imagines Ruri-chan in your art style and his brain just *internet dial-up noises* for about five minutes

He goes to the artist’s profile and starts scrolling through all their posted work

He pauses when he comes across a drawing that looked suspiciously like him in his demon form

The face was blacked out but the serpentine tail, the horns, the diamonds on the neck, the side zipped hoodie

It had to be him

In shock, he scrolls back to the top of the profile and checks out the bio and name of the artist

He is greeted by a very familiar face and name

He is in your room less than 2 minutes later

“You! Y-You did this!?”

You almost drop your pad/tablet thanks to his outburst and abrupt entrance

You look at the DDD that was shoved in your face and slowly nod

You thought he was gonna blow up at you for posting a drawing of him, even though his face wasn’t in it

You are very wrong

Levi becomes your #1 source of income

The moment you finish a piece, he is commissioning you again

You worry that he’s draining his bank account because he tips you very well

But he isn’t bothered at all by it

All of your pieces are on display in his room

He also posts all of your art on his social media and tags you

Your page explodes in popularity and the commissions are rolling in from his online friends

You had no idea otakus pay so well

Mammon is very jealous of the amount of Grimm you have piling up

Satan:

One day he asks you about your hobbies and you tell him you draw

“What do you draw?”

Cue internal conflict on if it’s weird to tell someone you’ve been drawing them and their brothers since you’re always around each other

He senses your hesitation and like the smart ass he is, he’s able to guess exactly why 

“Would your hesitance be because of the subject of your art?”

He knows too much for his own good

You decide it’s best for him to see it instead of telling him

Being a fan of literary art, you were worried he may be overly critical of your fine art

He was not the type to sugarcoat anything

However, he simply smiles and hands your pad/tablet back

“You’re incredibly talented, MC.”

A few days later he asks you to tag along with him while he handles something

That ‘something’ is going to feed some stray cats he’s come across

“MC, I’d like to commission you. I’ve found homes for these cats but I want something to remember them by. Will you help me?”

How can you say no to a man holding four cats in his arms?

You take some photos for reference and make four different pieces for him

When you give them to Satan, you swear you’ve never seen a bigger smile on his face

He framed them all and keeps them on top of his bookshelves

Asmodeus:

He found out through Levi’s social media

He commissioned you for a piece of him and the protagonist of a game he recently started playing

This piques Asmo’s interest and he wonders if you’ve ever drawn him before

He approaches you when you’re in the kitchen grabbing a drink

“Hi, darling. I saw the piece you did for Levi and naturally if you’ve done one of him you’ve probably drawn my beauty as well, right?”

You decide to show him since he brought it up

He’s gushing over all of your art

No, seriously, he is praising you so much even the tip of your ears start burning from your blush

He commissions you to draw him in many different ways 

Him in his bedroom, him in the bath, him as a mermaid, him as an exotic dancer

He comes to you with so many different ideas

He tests your limits but you actually like that

Beelzebub:

Beel is rather stoic, but he doesn’t mean to be

It was his resting face and smiling was usually reserved for eating yummy food

But you wanted to practice drawing him with different expressions

Beel’s welcoming manner gave you the courage to approach him and ask if you can take some pictures of him to use for a reference

He’s shocked you wanna draw him but agrees with the condition that he gets to see some of your other work

You show him different pieces of him and his brothers and he’s smiling the entire time

“These are all so good. I didn’t know you could draw.”

He commissions a piece of him and Belphegor and one of all seven brothers

But he also asks if he can watch you draw them

You both spend quite a few nights together

You drawing and him munching on snacks and feeding you some every once in a while

His presence is actually pretty calming so you ask him if he minds staying around while you work even after you finish his commission

Beel being Beel, agrees to keep you company

The night usually ends with him carrying you to bed

Sometimes, he takes you to his bed to cuddle

Belphegor:

Belphie was actually the first brother you drew

You came across him asleep in the attic once and he looked so perfect

Your fingers were itching to draw him, so you did

It became a routine for you to head to the attic and draw him while he slept

You always crept out before he woke up

You thought he had no idea of your little practice sessions

But one day you looked down to fix a mistake you made on his nose

When you looked back up you saw Belphie staring right at you

“You know, if you’re gonna draw me the least you can do is show me.”

You try to stammer out an apology as he sits up

“Oh, I don’t care. You don’t make noise or anything, I’m just very hyperaware of my surroundings. So I know when someone is in the same room as me when I sleep.”

He moves over to you and looks at your pad/tablet

“Hm, not bad MC. Show me your other work some time.”

Then he goes back to his sleeping spot, curls up, and falls back asleep

You sit there with your pencil/stylus in your hand, trying to wrap your head around what just happened

But he didn’t seem disturbed so you continue drawing

When he wakes up you show him more of your work featuring his brothers

He asks if he can have a quick sketch you did of him and Beel 

You jokingly say he has to pay for it

He actually pays you for it

He puts it up in his room

It’s nice to see when you visit him and Beel

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

     You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on. 

     As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

     Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up. 

     The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could. 

     Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room. 

     But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. 

     He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life. 

     You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together. 

     About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation. 

     Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday. 

     “Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

     MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?” 

     You roll your eyes playfully.

     “I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.” 

     “It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

     “Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-”     “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off. 

     “Who is this guest?” 

     “Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man. 

     “Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

     The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

     “Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching. 

     Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

     “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

     “How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

     The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in. 

     “New York.” 

     He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays. 

     “Washington D.C”

     A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following. 

     “Sokovia.” 

     The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land. 

     “Lagos.” 

     “That’s enough,” Steve interrupts. 

     Ross nods in response and begins his speech again. 

     “For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

     He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking. 

     “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” 

     “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

     “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

     At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

     “So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states. 

     “Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” 

     Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

     “Then you retire.” 

     The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

     As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you. 

     “Can I help you?” 

     “You’re a little young to be an intern.” 

     “You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder. 

     Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

     You look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

     “You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.” 

     Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you. 

     “Don’t touch me,” 

     Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

     “Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have. 

     “So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

     “117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.” 

     “I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator. 

     “Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters. 

     “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

     “Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap. 

     Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

     “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.” 

     “Boom,” Rhodey says.                             

     You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere. 

     “Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

     “It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained. 

     “Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

     Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man. 

     “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

     He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

     “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

     “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

     “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

     “Who said we’re giving up?” 

     “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

     “I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

      “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”   

      “That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.  

     “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

     “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

     Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

     “We would protect you,” Vision promised. 

     “Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

     “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts. 

     “I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back. 

     “Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

     “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

     “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.” 

     From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly. 

     You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team. 

     “Someone’s upset,” you hum. 

     You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle. 

     “Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.” 

     Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair. 

     “I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” 

     You open the bottle and take a sip. 

     “What are you doing down here kid--”

     “Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

     “Just answer the question,” Tony snaps. 

     “I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.” 

     An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water. 

     “Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?” 

     “Not you too,” your father mutters. 

      You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely. 

      “Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks. 

      “Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

     “Look,” Tony attempts. 

     “I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

     “I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down. 

     “I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

     You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed. 

-

     It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read. 

     “You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

     You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands. 

     “Hey,” she quietly protests. 

     “Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

     MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

     She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more. 

     Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours. 

     This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

     You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. 

     “We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled. 

     Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side. 

     “Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47. 

     “Guess I’m spending the night then.” 

     “I have no problem with that.”

-

     The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video. 

     “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

     Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear. 

      “Nat what the fuck is going on?”

     You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone.     “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

     “Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

     “(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

     There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle. 

     “Okay, whatever. Bye.”

     “(Y/n) c’mo--”

     You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk.     “You sound stressed.” 

     Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her. 

     “I am.”

     You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly. 

     “There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging. 

     MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close. 

     “They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.” 

     There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up. 

     “C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face. 

     Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen. 

     She turned around and grabbed your shoulders. 

     “We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

     You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work. 

-

     It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back. 

     When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it. 

     Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw. 

     “What the hell happened?”

     The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers. 

     Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs. 

     “You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?” 

     Both men looked away and avoided your gaze. 

     “You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

     “Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

     “Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!” 

     You turned to your father with pleading eyes. 

     “Where are they, Tony?”

     “Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

     “Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?” 

     You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them. 

     Just when things were alright.

-

     “(Y/n)?” 

     “What M.I.A?”

     You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

     “There’s a package for you.” 

     Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room. 

     Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone. 

     Hey sweetheart.

     It was Natasha’s handwriting.

     I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now. 

     I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me. 

     I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart. 

     But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will. 

     I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call. 

     You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand. 

     You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Permanent Taglist

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Marvel Taglist

@hateinthemorning​, @mylove4life​, @badbitchyonjii, @blueposthings​

[fang11803]

Wrow Colleen i sure am glad you reblogged that artist questions list three times today. I'm sure all of your followers and mutuals have already flooded your inbox with numbers, because its really easy to just click on a blog and type a single number into someone's ask box and hit the submit button, thus giving you the illusion that you aren't screaming into a void, but i just GOTTA KNOW what your answers would be for EVERY QUESTION, please.

Golly random anon, I'd be happy to do that. In fact, this will be the only ask I'll answer out of the windfall of messages in my inbox, because it's so convenient to have allllllll the answers on one post instead of many individual posts. How helpful of you.

1. Art programs you have but don't use: I've had a program on my computer for a while that lets you draw only in hexagons. It's neat but has limited uses.

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left, right, or center: Left.

3. What ideas come from when you were little: Well, Fang is my oldest oc, so anything having to do with her. I had a lot of cool ideas about werewolves when i was 12.

4. Fav character/subject that is a bitch to draw: I like plants a lot, especially Weird Plants(tm). The issue is when it comes to making a bunch of foliage for a background, i end up making everything look too samey or too busy.

5. How much of your art do you post online vs. Keep to yourself: I keep 90% of it to myself now for two reasons. 1) little to no feedback on pieces i worked hard on. 2) number 2 is personal but related to number 1.

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously: music, probably. Music affects my mood which affects what i want to draw.

7. A medium of art you dont work in but appreciate: Anytuing related to sculpture. From ceramics to metal work that stuff is cool af.

8. What's an old art project idea that you've lost interest in: when i was about 22 i had this idea for a comic series that was just me illustrating dreams from my journal. I didn't get very far because i didn't think people would enjoy it.

9. What are your file name conventions: up until I save the final draft it's called whatever, but after I'm done I usually do title_year_intendedUse

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw: Jackets. Or those skirt things i made up for world building purposes.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing: Sometimes, usually music.

12. Easiest part of the body to draw: Hands.

13. Skip. Unnecessary drama starter.

14. Any favorite motifs: i love celestial bodies and floating crystals. And eyes.

15. *where* do i draw: at home. On my bed or at my desk.

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing: Clouds imo. They sure are there. In the sky.

17. Do you eat/drink while drawing: No thats messy

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken: ive worn out two drawing tablets and dried out much acrylic paint.

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw: jewelry

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy: architecture and interiors in perspective. I don't bother most of the time, but i really enjoy it when i take the time. It's like a puzzle.

21. Art styles nothing like your own, but you like anyways: pixel artists are Next Level Coolness

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing: i do wrist stretches

23. Do you use different layer modes: yes? Work smart party hard.

24. Do your references include stock images: if i can't draw the thing i google it and upload all the results directly into my brain and then hopefully i can draw it afterwards.

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by: one time someone saw a picture of Bill and asked why I drew a genderbend of that green haired girl from code geass, which I had never heard of at that point.

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended: have you ever been part of an art pipeline where you hand your drawing off to be digitally inked, and the other artist completely misinterprets the facial expressions you gave the characters, because this has happened on several occasions!

27. Do you warm up (etc): No oh my god.

28. Any art events you have participated in in the past: ive participated in a zine and a few game jams.

29. Media you love but doesn't inspire you artistically: most podcasts. I don't really draw anything for podcasts.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated: i once did a big painting of Korra and Raava in a field of stars that i thought was beautiful but nobody else seemed to like it. I want to get it framed someday.