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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

Note

can i request cregan stark modern au, with jaces younger or twin sister and maybe they like hide the relationship and its like fluffy and maybe smutty

Request: five times cregan and jace’s sister almost get caught and one time jace does find out about their relationship. I don’t think he would be too mad. He knows cregan is a good guy and would treat you well.

I usually dislike body hair (personal preference) and beards, but Cregan has a short beard in this one (as he does in all of my fics for him) because I said so, and because he’s a Stark. I think it is mandatory and missing for his character — manifesting for a beard in season 3. Also, this is 6.6k words...idk how that happened

p.s. You can find this fic on AO3 under the title Who are we to fight the alchemy

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), mention of a fight and blood, short appearance of Larys Strong (he needs his own warning),

—

When you started college and moved in with Jace, he had warned his teammates that his sister was off limits and that if he caught any of them looking at you, he would not be afraid to throw hands. He may be smaller than a lot of his teammates, but Jace was very protective of you.

They were good guys, brothers to Jace, but he also knew their history with girls. He knew the dirty secrets; the dramas, who they had sex with, where, and details that he wished he could forget about. They were not boyfriend material — at all.

You were not going to lie, Jace’s teammates were hot hockey players. It was tempting to turn your life into a cliché book trope and hook up with one of them, but you refrained from doing so. They were not worth being another name on their list.

Until one of them changed your mind.

It was a Tuesday night. You were in your room, reading on your bed while Jace had friends over playing video games. You could hear them shout at the TV and each other. After a few chapters, you wandered to the kitchen to get a cookie from the cookie jar, but found its content empty.

‘’Jace,’’ you said under your breath.

Living with your brother had a certain strange familiarity to it, a comforting echo of home despite the newness of being on your own. But some things hadn’t changed. Like how Jace never mentioned when he emptied something. Like that one time you wanted to make spaghetti, only to discover he had left an empty pasta box in the cupboard. Or when he used your shower towel because his was in the laundry. These moments made you miss your mom's presence — she’d always been there to keep the peace and enforce some order.

As you stared at the empty jar with frustration, one of Jace’s friends walked in behind you, his eyes immediately landing on the same spot. You could not see who it was, but his tall shadow was towering over you and you could smell a faint woodsy cologne.

‘’If you’re looking for a cookie, Jace ate them all,’’ you said, throwing your brother under the bus.

‘’That was me, actually,’’ admitted a deep voice with a northern accent from behind you. You turned to see Cregan standing there, his expression sheepish. ‘’Jace said to get anything I wanted. Sorry.’’

You forced a smile, the irritation fading as your eyes met his gray ones. ‘’It’s fine. I’ll get something else.’’

Cregan watched as you moved to the freezer above the fridge to get the ice cream out. You opened the lid and saw that it was almost empty, so there was no need to put it in a bowl.

‘’Did you make them?’’ he asked as you reached for a spoon in the cutlery drawer.

‘’I did,’’ you answered with a smile.

‘’They were really good.’’

‘’Thank you. If Jace baked them himself, they would have turned out like hockey pucks: black and hard,’’ you joked.

Cregan offered a light chuckle as he stepped towards the counter, his gray eyes studying the details of your face. He hadn’t really looked at you until now, respecting Jace’s warning, but now he was struggling to look away and go back to the living room.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Two months later, you found yourself making out with the Wolves’ captain in his big jeep. His hair was damp and he smelled strongly of soap and deodorant, having showered twenty minutes ago after practice.

The windows were beginning to fog as you were kissing, your hands all over Cregan's shoulders and chest. His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to grip his shirt when it grazed yours. You could drown in his kisses.

Getting frustrated by the gear shift separating you, you attempt to climb over it and fumbled your way to the driver seat onto Cregan’s lap without breaking contact with his lips. You bumped your head and legs along the way, and let out a little curse. Cregan laughed, pulling back his seat as far as it would go so the steering wheel would not press in your back.

From his new angle, you could feel the warmth of Cregan’s body against yours. It wasn’t as effective as cuddling in bed, but Jace would get home soon and Cregan’s small dorm bed was not made for two. He barely fitted himself.

He slipped his large hands under your shirt, his thumbs inching up and up your sides, feeling your soft and warm skin while his mouth locked itself to your jaw. ‘’Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,'' he said as his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses up to your collarbone.

You rolled your hips to meet his, the friction causing Cregan’s breath to stutter. His hands were still in your shirt, large and warm, leaving trails of fire over your back. He felt like he was sixteen and in high school all again, not twenty-one and in college.

‘’Gods, you’re going to kill me if your hand keeps going rubbing against me like that.’’

You smirked and tipped your head back to give him more room. ‘’Jace is not the boss of my relationships. I can see whoever I please,’’ you replied, raking your hand through his hair and grazing the side of his short beard.

Cregan scoffed against your neck. ‘’Then what are we doing in my car instead of your bed?’’

He was only teasing, but it still made you sigh. You didn’t think living with Jace would put a wrench in your dating life. He meant well, but gods was it frustrating.

Not waiting for your response, Cregan continued to shower your neck with kisses, his teeth nipping at the skin before his lips soothed it. You didn’t think kisses would make you feel like this, but this man had an effect on your body that you could not explain. You pulled at his hair when he bit at the sensitive flesh there, leaving a small mark you will have to conceal later.

You wished you didn’t have to hide your relationship. You wished you could kiss him whenever you desired, go to his games and wear his jersey and cheer for him loudly when he scored a goal, cuddle with him on the couch without looking at the door every five minutes to check if Jace was coming home.

Cregan pulled back suddenly, looking up at you with his gray eyes. ‘’I should go, Jace is gonna come home soon. Walking from campus to here takes less than thirty minutes,’’ he said in a hushed tone, his breath coming in short puffs.

‘’Just a few minutes more,’’ you bargained, stealing a few kisses from his lips, not yet ready to part. ‘’I have a class at 8pm tomorrow and you leave for your away game Saturday morning. I won’t be seeing you until Sunday or Monday.’’

He let out a sigh, also dreading the moment he’ll leave you, and held you for a moment, his hands gently running up and down your back. You drinked in his scent and warmth, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your head in his neck.

The moment was ruined as you shifted and accidentally hit the horn with your ass, the loud sound echoing in the parking lot.

Startled, you jumped and then burst into laughter, but Cregan didn’t join in. His expression was stone serious as he stared intently at something in the distance. Confused, you followed his gaze and spotted Jace standing by the doors of your apartment building, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He was scanning the parking lot, clearly trying to figure out which car had honked, but with the lights off and the evening darkness, there was no way for him to tell which one it was.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The second time you almost got caught together was before a hockey game. The team the Wolves were playing against was strong and Cregan texted you to come outside the locker room and give him a good luck kiss.

You smiled at the text and sent a quick ‘coming’ to your boyfriend. ‘’I’m gonna get something to drink,’’ you told your friends.

You snaked your way through the students and families waiting in the entrance to get to their seats and quickly made your way down to the locker room. You knew where it was from bringing over Jace’s skates last Saturday at practice. They were essential for getting on the ice, how could he forget them?

Family, friends — and girlfriends — were not allowed in that area of the arena, so you kept an eye out for anyone from staff. You could always play the ‘I was looking for the bathroom’ card, but it would add another lie on top of the others you and Cregan were piling up since the beginning of your relationship.

You found him leaning against the wall, waiting. He was in his compression pants and an old Wolves tee shirt, looking like a complete snack. You could see everything in those tight pants. And the way his hair was tied at the back made him look sexier.

He looked up when he heard someone approach and a soft smile curled on his lips. ‘’There you are,’’ Cregan said, his voice low and gravelly as he stepped to you and pulled you to his chest. You fit against him perfectly, like a missing piece snapping into place.

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, his hand cupping your face gently. It was supposed to just be a quick kiss — a quick ‘good luck’ smooch, not anything too serious. But the moment your mouth met his, you both got carried away.

Cregan grabbed you with ease by your thigh, lifting you up, and you winded yours around his neck, almost forgetting that he had a game to play in twenty minutes.

‘’Okay, that’s enough,’’ you decided, breaking the kiss. ‘’You’re gonna be late for pre-game talk.’’

Cregan sighed but gently lowered you back down. Your boots hit the floor, but he didn’t let you go without stealing one last kiss. You smiled into it, then stepped back just as Jace came barreling down the hallway, clearly in a rush.

He came to a stop, frowning when seeing you. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ His gaze shifted to Cregan, suspicion creeping into his voice. ‘’And why are you talking to my sister?’’

Cregan didn’t miss a beat. ‘’She was looking for you, actually,’’ he lied smoothly. ‘’Baela asked her to tell you she wouldn’t make it to the game tonight. She and Rhaena drove home for the weekend for their dad’s birthday.’’

You made a mental note to thank him later for the quick thinking. Baela had mentioned her trip, and Jace had been sulking and pouting ever since, upset that his girlfriend would miss a big game.

Jace nodded, still catching his breath. ‘’Yeah, I know. She already told me.’’

‘’Oh?’’ you played along effortlessly. ‘’She must have forgotten that she already told you. She has a lot on her mind right now, you know.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Your breathy 'ah's and whimpers were bouncing off the walls as Cregan's strong hands gripped your thighs and held you in place while he lapped at your pussy like a starved man. The intensity of pleasure forced you to grip the headboard. The scruff of his beard was rubbing against your sensitive skin, chafing, but you kind of like it.

It was your first time having the apartment to yourself for more than two hours, and you were going to make the most out of it. Jace was at a bar in the city with some guys from the team. He won't be back until at least 1am...or even later.

When you heard about the night out at the bar, you texted your man and let him know so he could come over after Jace leaves. His teammates were disappointed that he was not joining, but Cregan told them to have fun for him.

He’ll have his own fun with you in the sheets.

The moment he crossed the door, your mouth was on his and you were unbuttoning your shirt, eager to feel his hands on your tits.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mewling at the way he was suckling on your clit. No one ever made you feel this good before. Not that you had a lot of experience to compare with.

His sweet assault on your pussy continued, the sounds you were making making him rock hard. He loved it — pleasing his girl.

''I'm gonna— I'm gonna come soon,'' you whined, feeling your core tighten and rocking you body forward in the same rhythm, fucking yourself on Cregan's tongue.

The hockey player let out a low grunt below you, encouraging you to use him how you wished. He let go of one of your thighs to run the back of his hand up your stomach and grab your breast the way you liked, his calloused thumb and finger capturing your peaked nipple, rubbing it as he flicked your clit again.

Your orgasm hit and you made circular jerks of her hips, pushing down on Cregan’s tongue and chin, drenching both. His name fell from your lips and you continued on like this for a moment, toes curling and legs tensing. Until you had nothing else to give.

He pressed a last kiss to your sensitive clit, then helped you clamber off him. ‘’You remember when I said the cookies you made were really good?’’

You hummed, although confused where he was going with this.

‘’This is better.’’

Your face flamed up at his words, not expecting such a vulgar thing to come out. ‘’Shut up.’’ You smacked his chest, his laugh rumbling under your palm.

The sheepishness he sported in the kitchen that day had disappeared, revealing a dirty sense of humor you never expected from him.

You thought you would get a breather, a moment to catch your breath between your last orgasm and the next, but Cregan — insatiable — had other plans. He rolled onto his side, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began kissing your body with a slow, deliberate intensity. His lips trailed all over your chest, down to your breasts, and then to your stomach, each touch igniting your desires all over again. You arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth and the gentleness of his caresses melting away any resistance.

Under his tall and broad stature, Cregan Stark was a teddy bear. A Costco sized teddy bear. On the ice, he was known for his strength and leadership, but off it, he was all heart. He was kind, caring, and protective. His caresses were gentle, and his kisses tender and loving. It was impossible to not feel his love.

Speaking of feeling his love, you felt his hardness twitching and poking at your thigh through his tight boxers. You reached down to slip your hand inside, jerking him slowly. In response, Cregan squeezed your hip and let out a low groan.

‘’I need you,’’ you gasped, feeling him suck at the skin under your left breast.

It was one of your rules: no leaving visible marks that could raise suspicions.

He gave one last swipe of his tongue over your nipple and peeled off his boxers, his delicious cock springing up immediately. Your pussy was weeping at the sight.

You spread your legs to accommodate him, offering yourself to him. He teased at your entrance, his movements deliberate as he bumped against your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that made you whine. His amused chuckle filled the room, clearly tempted to draw out your anticipation even more, but as you shot him a warning glare, silently urging him to stop teasing.

Cregan shushed you, rubbing your thigh, and just as he was about to breach your walls, you heard the door of the apartment open and Jace’s voice echoing.

You froze, eyes widening in panic, and Cregan cursed under his breath, realizing that Jace was back much earlier than expected. ‘’Shit. That’s Jace.’’

He called your name again and you quickly slipped on a shirt and got out of bed, answering your brother's calls of your name. You couldn't risk him coming into your bedroom and catching his best friend in your bed in his birthday suit…with with a raging hard-on and your juices all over his beard.

‘’You’re home early,’’ you pointed out, coming down the hallway.

You studied him as he grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry, trying to guess his state of inebriety. He seemed barely tipsy.

‘’Drama at the bar. Ben got into a fight with some guy over a girl — which he did not know was someone's girlfriend — and we all got kicked out,’’ Jace explained, rummaging through the bag of chips and taking a handful to pop into his mouth before leaning against the counter.

You shook your head with a sigh. ‘’Typical Ben. He really needs to stop going after girls that are taken. Has he not learned his lesson?''

Your brother laughed, taking more chips. “Whose shirt is that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the large shirt you were wearing, then back up at you.

You followed his gaze and saw that you had grabbed Cregan’s tee shirt instead of your sleep shirt…

‘’Dad’s,’’ you blurted out quickly.

Jace frowned, not remembering your dad ever wearing that shirt, but let it go. ‘’What were you up to? I thought you would invite the girls over.''

‘’Eh, no. I...I was having fun by myself,'' you stammered, clenching your thighs and hoping your face was not too flushed.

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn’t true either. You were having fun, just not by yourself.

His face twisted in disgust. ‘’Ew, that’s gross! I did not need to know about that.''

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Unlike Ben, Cregan wasn’t the type to get into fights — especially on the ice. He thought it was stupid and pointless, a quick way to end up injured or benched for a few games. As the father figure of the team, he was usually the one stepping in to break up the scuffles, keeping cooler heads prevailing. But sometimes, no matter how careful you are, you get caught in the crossfire and take a punch that wasn’t meant for you.

You shot up from your seat immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach as Jason Lannister’s gloveless fist accidently connected to Cregan’s face. It was aimed at Ben — unsurprisingly —, who had played a foul, unnoticed by the referee, and got his brother Tyland in the penalty box.

Chaos erupted on the ice. The referees were shouting and blowing their whistle, trying to break up the fight. Seeing Ben implicated, Cregan had rushed over, taking it on himself to pull him back, but that's when Jason punched him.

More players skated over, helping the referees. One grabbed Jason, and another went for Ben. He was lean but feisty, a scrappy fighter who never backed down. He shot a taunting grin at his opponent and spat blood on the ice, right at his feet. Jason tried to free himself, but the closest referee put his hand on his chest, shaking his head. Enough.

Cregan turned to Ben and wiped the blood off his nose, glaring at darkly.

You didn’t see him until Sunday afternoon. You were coming back from the laundry room, arms full with a basket of freshly cleaned clothes, and forgot how to breathe when you saw Cregan sitting on the couch across from Jace. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie, and his pretty face was decorated with a bruise close to his nose.

Your feet froze, unable to take another step. You wanted to fucking punch Jason Lannister.

‘’Hey, you’re back,’’ Jace noticed, turning his head towards you.

You nodded, trying to regain your composure. ‘’Yeah. I was doing laundry,’’ you explained, lifting the basket slightly as if to prove your point.

‘’Can you do mine next time? I’ll pay you ten dollars,’’ Jace offered with a grin.

You scoffed, shaking your head. What did he take you for, a housemaid? ‘’Ten dollars to wash your dirty underwear and smelly socks? Never.’’

‘’Fifteen,’’ he countered, still hopeful. ‘’My clothes smell better when you do it. It’s like when Mom used to do it.’’

‘’That’s because I use fabric softener,’’ you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jace frowned, clearly puzzled. ‘’What’s that?’’

Before you could explain it to him, his phone beeped with a notification. He paused the game and checked his screen. ‘’Food is here. I’ll go get it,’’ he said to Cregan.

The taller one nodded, waiting for Jace to be out the door to glance at you. Without saying anything, you set the basket of clothes down on the beanbag chair that had seen better days and went straight to Cregan, cupping his face gently. His eyes softened at your touch, seeing your look of concern. He reached up with one hand to lightly hold onto your wrist as you examined the bruise on his face.

Cregan gave you a soft smile. He could see that you were worried about him. ‘’I’m fine,’’ he said, yet you couldn’t help but notice a hint of stiffness in his expression. ‘’I’m fine. I promise.’’ He kissed the inside of your hand.

‘’I’ll fetch you some ice.’’

He tried to protest, saying that it wasn’t necessary, but you were resolute. You hadn't been able to take care of him after the game, so you’ll do it now.

You put some ice cubes that you used for your iced coffees in a plastic bag and brought it to the living room, gently pressing it to the bruise. ‘’Here.’’

Cregan winced at the cold, his face sensitive. ‘’Thanks, love.’’ He reached out and put a hand on your hip, tugging you closer, but retracted it as the door opened and Jace returned with the food.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

During the course of your relationship, you found yourself in a lot of risky situations, but letting Cregan sleep over was playing with fire.

You didn't mean to. It was an accident.

The two of you were watching a movie in your bed while Jace was on a date with Baela, and he fell asleep forty minutes in. You should have woken him when your phone showed close to 11pm, but you didn't have the heart to. You locked your door, turned off your laptop and cuddled against him.

When you woke up to pee at 1am, you saw that your brother was back and was asleep on the couch with his phone in his hand, the TV playing some older kids cartoons and his leg off the couch. Jace was a light sleeper, it would be too risky to sneak Cregan out.

Morning came and you woke up alone. A sad pout graced your lips. It was your first time spending the night together and you didn’t even get to have morning cuddles or hear his sleepy voice.

You grabbed your phone, checking if he left any messages, but there was nothing. Just a text from your mom asking if you were coming home for your dad’s birthday this coming weekend. You rolled over, breathing in the sheets where Cregan slept in last night, and left her on read and got up.

Your morning coffee was calling your name.

Running a hand through your hair, you walked down the hallway, looking forward to that first sip of coffee, and grinned when you found Cregan in the small kitchen, standing in his tight boxers and a tee shirt and drinking black coffee from a Disney mug. It looked Polly Pocket sized in his hands.

You wrapped your arms around him from the back, your body flush against his. You pressed your face into his back, and the warmth of your body against his made his shoulders relax.

He smiled to himself, covering your hands with his free one. ‘’Good morning,’’ he said in a groggy voice.

‘’I thought you had left. What of Jace? If my brother sees you in your underwear in his kitchen he’s gonna flip.’’

Cregan set his coffee down and turned, his gaze soft as his eyes met yours. The bruise on his face had significantly faded, barely there. ‘’He’s not here. I heard him leave.’’

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, and you let yourself relax against him. The warmth of his body seeped through his tee shirt, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Cregan's hand slowly traced down your back, his fingers rubbing gentle circles at the base of your spine.

‘’Don’t you have classes?’’ you asked, glancing up at him with a small smile.

He hummed softly. ‘’Not until later. My 10am class got canceled. I thought I’d hit the gym instead...but there’s no rush.’’

‘’I’ve gotta leave in one hour,’’ you sighed, wishing you could linger in this moment longer.

Cregan’s grip tightened slightly, as if to keep you close for as long as he could. ‘’I can drop you off,’’ he offered. ‘’That way we’ll have more time together.’’

You nodded, pressing a kiss over Cregan’s sternum in thanks. ‘’I’ll make us breakfast...in five minutes.’’

To ruin the moment, you heard the loud buzz and a voice coming from the intercom.

‘’Are you up? Please be awake. I tried texting you and calling but you didn’t respond so I’m taking a chance here.’’ Jace called your name again, louder.

You groaned in annoyance and went to the door to press the intercom button. ‘’What do you want?’’

‘’Yes! You’re awake! Eh, I left my laptop on the counter, and I also forgot my keys...’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

When Jace left for college, your parents didn’t see the use of getting a car when everything was close to campus and within walking distance. What they didn’t think through would be the possibility of the bus riding home being full and not being able to make it for your dad’s birthday.

Jace: Pack your bag. We’re leaving at 4pm. I already told Mom

You: You found us bus tickets?

Jace: No. I found a ✨chauffeur✨

You: Please tell me it’s not some random person you found on a co-driving forum. I don’t want to spend two hours in some creep’s car 💀

Jace: He’s not

You should have known it would be him.

Jace called shotgun, forcing you to take the backseat. You didn’t mind. In fact, you preferred it. If you had sat at the front, you were scared your hand would have slipped and revealed your relationship. Or that Jace would have noticed the familiarity between you. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little sister, not someone he knew like the palm of his hand.

Although it was only two hours, the drive felt never-ending. Your back ached from sitting in class all day and your stomach was impatient to be filled with your mother’s cooking. Every now and then, Cregan would sneak glances at you through the rearview mirror, and each time you couldn’t hide your smile. Your brother didn’t see, too busy on his phone or switching the music.

This weekend was looking to be long and difficult.

Your mom was more than happy to have another guest over. Cregan was as polite and charming, easily winning her heart when he complimented her infamous lasagna and asked for a second serving.

''Of course! Help yourself,'' Rhaenyra said, smiling warmly. She glanced between Cregan and Jace, who both emptied their plates quickly. ''It's like they don't feed you at college.''

''I live in a dorm,'' Cregan explained in defense. ''It's hard to cook when the only appliances allowed are a mini fridge and a coffee pot.''

Your mother turned to Jace with raised eyebrows, clearly waiting for his excuse. ''And you? What do you have to say for yourself?''

Jace grinned sheepishly, swallowing his last bite. ''Can I take the leftover back to college?''

At the head of the table, your father let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head.

When you were seven, you used to sneak out of your bedroom at night to eat a bowl of cereal. It took your parents several months to figure it out. At eighteen, you were sneaking to join your boyfriend in the guest room.

You waited for everyone to be fast asleep, and avoided the creaking floorboards in the hallway. It was dark inside as you closed and locked the door behind, but you made it to the bed without stubbing your toe on any furniture.

Cregan stirred when you pulled the covers and slipped in, feeling your cold feet on his calves. ''What are you doing?'' he asked, half-asleep and eyes still closed. He didn't need to see you to know it was you. He simply knew.

You said nothing and cuddled against him, sighing happily when he reciprocated.

Morning came faster, the early rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You cursed at yourself, having once again slept longer than planned. You checked both sides of the hallway, and once you deemed it safe, you exited. What you didn’t see was Luke leaving the bathroom, his hair unruly and barely awake.

‘’I…’’ you stammered, not knowing what to say.

He was fifteen, you could not trick him like Joffrey. He knew what you were doing in the guest bedroom.

So you bolted to your own, praying he would keep his tongue.

‘’Luke knows,’’ you blurted out as you descended the stairs for breakfast, the weight of the confession lingering in the air.

Downstairs, your mother had gone all out, setting up a massive brunch spread — eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and even pancakes. Grandfather Lyonel would be coming over...along with your uncle Larys. The thought of him made your stomach twist; you had never been at ease in his presence, but he was your father’s half-brother, and that meant you had to force a smile and be nice.

Cregan furrowed his brows, concern creeping across his face. ''How?''

You quickly recounted the incident, watching as Cregan ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression growing tense. ‘’You think he’s gonna tell Jace?'' he asked, his voice dropping. ''Or worse...your dad? We got along well last night, but when he’ll find out—’’

‘’My dad is not the one we need to worry about,'' you interrupted softly, trying to ease his anxiety. ''Sure, he’s protective of us, and he might look like the kind of guy who could knock someone out with one punch, but he’d never do that to someone I care about. Not unless he had a damn good reason.''

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, Joffrey got down from his chair and dashed over to you, his small face lighting up with excitement. ‘’Mommy made pancakes!’’ he announced, his big brown eyes practically glowing. ‘’There’s blueberry ones, your favorites.’’ He grabbed both your hand and Cregan's, tugging insistently, messing up your plan to arrive separately.

At the table, Luke was talking — bragging — to grandfather Lyonel about school while Jace was helping your mom bring all the food to the table. And of course, Uncle Larys was just sitting there, observing everything with his usual quiet, unsettling presence.

At Joffrey’s urging, Cregan took a seat next to him. The little one had taken a strong liking to the hockey player, and you couldn’t help but hope that this budding friendship might work in your favor when it would all blow up.

‘’Careful, it's hot!'' Rhaenyra called out, entering with a plate full of bacon. ''Jace, can you bring the orange juice? Oh, and a small fork for Joffrey?''

You interrupted Luke and made your way to Grandfather Lyonel, wrapping him in a warm hug like you always did. ‘’Where’s Dad?’’ you asked, noticing his absence.

The burly man looked around for his son, not knowing either.

‘’I'm here, I'm here,'' Harwin’s familiar voice rang out from the sliding door as he entered, carrying a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. On top of his head was a handmade birthday crown, obviously crafted by Joffrey. ‘’Your mother forgot the strawberries. I had to fetch some from the garden.''

You grinned, stepping up to greet him. ‘’Happy birthday, Dad,’’ you said, kissing his cheek as you wrapped him in a hug.

Everyone sat around the table, and began filling their plates with food.

You mostly took blueberry pancakes, and some fruits from the garden. You had a sweet tooth this morning. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Joffrey talking a mile a minute between bites of pancakes and bacon. Cregan was trying his best to listen to your little brother — what he could make out of his words, anyway — but his attention was completely focused on you.

Two seats down from you, Luke was watching. You could feel his gaze on Cregan, and there was an unsettling tension beneath the surface. He knew something. He could let it slip at any moment and throw the whole breakfast into chaos. But, for now, he stayed silent.

‘’So,’’ Grandfather Lyonel began casually as he sipped his coffee, ‘’how's your first year of college treating you? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?''

The word 'boyfriend' had your bite of pancakes catching in your throat. Grabbing your coffee, you took a long gulp to wash it down, buying yourself a moment.

You shook your head, managing a calm smile. ‘’Not really. I’m keeping my focus on my academics,’’ you replied, briefly raising your eyes at Cregan, who was focussing on eating the content in his plate. The last time he had a home-made breakfast was with you.

You thought you were being discreet, but your grandfather noticed the short glance, as did your father who was right next to you.

Joffrey, oblivious to the tension, piped up, ‘’Jace has a girlfriend. Her name is Bella.’’

‘’Baela,’’ Jace corrected with a fond smile, shaking his head at the enthusiastic six-year-old.

Grandfather Lyonel smiled, happy for his grandson. ‘’That’s a lovely name.’’ He then turned to Cregan. ‘’And you, Cregan? Got a girlfriend? A handsome, well-mannered lad like you cannot be single.’’

Before he could answer, Joffrey piped up with the bluntness only a child could muster. ‘’I think you should date my sister,’’ he declared.

Jace’s head shot up, eyes wide.

Before him, Cregan chuckled uncomfortably, clutching his fork. ‘’Why is that, little one?’’

‘’Because you look at her like papa looks at mommy.’’ He said it so pure and innocently, yet it was true.

The silence that followed was so loud it didn’t take long for Jace to connect the dots. The truth hung in the air, undeniable and clear. Cregan shifted awkwardly in his seat, and you felt your heart pound in your chest.

Jace glanced between you and the one he called his best friend. His nostrils were flared, shock and outrage painted across his face. ‘’How long has this been going on?’’ His brown eyes glared daggers at Cregan, waiting for an answer. ‘’How long have you been keeping this from me?’’

‘’Jace,’’ your father’s voice cut through the tension, firm but gentle, an attempt to stop the situation from spiraling any further.

But Jace wasn’t listening, angry at his friend’s betrayal. ‘’How can you betray me like that? I would have expected it from Robb or Theon, not from you. You pride yourself to be loyal and honorable, but where is your loyalty in this? Where is the honor in disregarding my one and only rule?’’

He was allowed to be upset that you and Cregan spent the last two months seeing each other behind his back. It’s a reaction that was expected. But you hated that he was painting his best friend as the villain. Cregan never used you, it was never his intention. He knew what he was risking when he kissed you back that rainy afternoon in his car. Yet, he couldn’t ignore his feelings — and neither could you.

‘’How can you make this all about you?’’ you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘’Can’t you see past your own selfish feelings that maybe Cregan does love me for me and not just to piss you off? This is exactly why we didn’t tell you anything.’’ You gestured around the room.

Cregan, who had remained silent until now, took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but firm. ‘’You know I don’t play around with girls. I would never use your sister the way you think I am. Come on, Jace. You know me.’’ There was a pause, allowing Jace to absorb his words, then he continued. ‘’I’m truly sorry for keeping this from you, but can you blame me? Put yourself in our shoes. You think I wanted to sneak around and lie to everyone about the girl I love? It might look cool in movies, but it’s not in real life. It’s just stress and pain.’’

The room was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. No one dared speaking around the table. It was only silent glances.

What a way to ruin your father’s birthday…

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting outside, your heart heavy. The house had grown quiet after the earlier commotion, the celebratory mood from the family gathering long gone. Grandfather Lyonel and uncle Larys had left. The former had apologized for starting the conflict, but you told him it was not his fault. It was bound to happen anyway.

You apologized to your father — and mother — for ruining his birthday. It was his turn to shake his head and pull you in his arms.

The air had gotten colder as it neared sundown, but you didn’t want to go inside. You liked the soft stillness of the open air. It was a calming contrast to the fight from this morning.

The drive back to college was going to be tense tomorrow. You already dreaded it.

Unbeknownst to you, Jace was watching you through the glass of the sliding doors. He stood there for a moment, observing you and Cregan sitting quietly together on the patio furniture. Your head was leaned on his shoulder, curled up at his side, and his left arm wrapped around you. He recognized the Wolves hoodie on your back, Cregan’s number and name on it.

It wasn't until he saw Cregan kiss the top of your head and the soft smile that instantly bloomed on your face that Jace realized that maybe Cregan was good for you.

—

House of the dragon taglist:@khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

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#cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #cregan hotd #cregan stark modern AU

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astr-venus · 20 days ago

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｡⁠☆Loser Boyfriend｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠

☆Cw: one use of "her", Mina calls you girl once, embarrassment, fluff, humor, rookie!prohero!deku

"Izuku, dude, no offense, but how did you land that?"

Izuku turns to Denki, looking just as lost as he does. There's a little flush on his cheeks and a wide eyed expression on his face. The boy looks like a confused baby dear, which truly only adds to Denki's confusion.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Teach me your ways." Denki says, comically whipping out a notepad from his pants pocket. "Did you grovel? Cry? Feed her a love potion but disguise it as juice so that she would drink it, but have no clue what it was?"

"N-No of course not!... And I'm pretty sure that would be illegal anyway..."

Denki shrugs, "Hey I don't know your life. You could be into some weird shit on the down low, you seem the type!"

Izuku responds with an eye roll. If anyone 'seems the type' it's Mineta and Denki himself. They turn back towards you instead of continuing the conversation. You're still in the same position you were in before; fully leaned over the back of the couch, legs closed with one slightly hanging in the air, while the rest of you is inside Mina's personal space giggling at something she's showing you on her phone.

You're in some cute little outfit that Izuku helped you pick out, a rare case, since Izuku still wears almost exclusively punny t-shirts and sweats. The only reason he helped is because it's your first time meeting his friends and former classmates, you just wanted to make sure the outfit wasn't too little or too much. This is not to say he was much help.

Izuku feels almost entranced by you, and you're not even looking at him. You haven't glanced his way since Mina took your attention, actually. Izuku could start pouting if he wasn't too busy ogling your backside. He's so busy he misses the picture Denki snaps at the enraptured look on his face.

"C'mon man, let's go raid the snacks before Kaachan forces us to leave the kitchen."

Denki's arm around Izuku's shoulder shakes him out of his stupor and he nods in agreement, not really having heard what he said at all. He allows Denki to lead him to the kitchen with only minimal glancing behind his back, just to get a little more time to soak in your image.

But he doesn't expect your eyes to catch. He has no time to prepare for the heat in his pink cheeks to spread to his ears, no time to prepare for your smile to make his heart thump in his chest. It makes him lightly stumble in his steps and turn to face forward again, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"Oh, Izu! Can you come back for just a sec?"

Izuku breaks out of Denki's hold with not a single lick of hesitation, embarrassment be damned. His world shortens and zooms in when you talk, the feeling of embarrassment, as well as Denki's voice, becomes muffled in the face of it. None of that matters if you're the one who needs him.

"Look at this picture Mina has of you!"

It's the picture All Might took of him before he bulked up. The one where he's dirty and sweating and crying after trying to haul a fridge across a beach. Izuku thinks he might die. Where did she even get that picture?

His face must say a lot, because both you and Mina burst out laughing. You're trying to reassure him, but you're laughing so hard you're struggling to gain a breath to string words together. If the floor swallowed Izuku whole right now, he would be grateful. It was a terrible idea to bring you to meet his classmates, especially a gossip like Mina.

"Oh, baby no, don't look like that!" You gasp, placing a hand on his shoulder. It's not nearly as comforting as you're trying to make it be.

"Izuku you look like a total loser, good thing you gained some muscle there, pipsqueak!" Mina chortles.

"Oh stop it! He doesn't look like a... Loser... I think it's cute!"

"Keep telling yourself that!"

Izuku has never considered the merits of getting hit by a bus before, now is a better time than ever to start.

Your arms wrap around him, and he instinctually hugs you back. You press your still smiling face into his chest, and turn towards Mina, still a little breathless.

"It's okay Izuku, I'll protect you from Mina's mean words." You giggle.

Mina is quick to start booing you, but Izuku doesn't miss the picture of him being sent to an unsaved number in her phone. Oh she's going to get it next time they spare together, and he will make absolutely sure it is soon. She doesn't get to run away from the enemy she has created today.

"Whose side are you even on, girl?" Mina huffs playfully, turning back to her phone and sitting back down on the couch.

The party goes smoothly after that, mostly because Izuku doesn't leave your side for the rest of the night. He refuses to let any of his other classmates show you blackmail. Even when you go to the bathroom he stands right outside the door, waiting for you to come back. At one point during the night Katsuki told him he looks like a stray puppy, and before he could deny it, you responded, "it's cute, part of his charm". He elected to ignore the way it made his chest puff out.

He likes to believe you think of him less as a puppy and more of a guard dog. He will not be confirming or denying this with you.

Before long, the party is over. Despite the little mishap with Mina earlier, he's satisfied. You were both fed well, and you very clearly had a good time with his friends, so he considers the night a success. He knew that you'd been nervous about the whole thing, his reassurances hadn't done much to sway you, but you had a great time. Just like he said you would.

As he's pulling the car out of the driveway, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread across your face. Izuku hopes you don't notice how heavily he swallows when you look at him, your expression is making him nervous.

"Mina sent me that picture of you."

The car lurches as he slams on the brakes. "She gave you her phone number?! Noo she's gonna show you how much of a loser I am!" He whines, putting his head into the steering wheel.

"Izu, my love, you are a bonafide prohero who's about to hit the top 30 barely two years out of highschool, you are not a loser."

Izuku turns to you with a wobbly smile, forehead still lying on the steering wheel. "U-Uhm no, I totally am. Hero work aside."

You giggle, his heart stutters again.

"Well you're my loser then."

"Yours?" Izuku flushes.

"Mine."

And well, being a loser isn't so bad if it means he gets to be yours. Your boyfriend. Your guard dog. Your puppy. Your loser. Your anything. He can be anything, as long as he's yours.

Love men who are losers and very smitten for their sweethearts, what can I say

｡⁠☆Requests open

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thebarneschronicles · 1 month ago

Text

Closer To Home III

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.9k

Synopsis: Snowed in with Bucky Barnes, you find comfort in playful banter, lingering touches, and the quiet intimacy of a morning spent wrapped in each other. But beneath the teasing smiles and warmth of shared laughter, something deeper stirs—something neither of you are ready to name. When a visit to his empty apartment reveals just how much he still struggles to believe he deserves more, your carefully guarded feelings come crashing down. And as walls crumble, as confessions slip through the cracks, Bucky begins to understand: maybe, just maybe, he was always meant to find home in you.

Trigger Warnings: Smut (duh); A lot of dirty talk; Discussions of Hydra & their experiments; Emotional breakdowns; Angst, banter, and all the feels.

Closer To Home Masterlist

Author’s Note: I can’t tell you how much I love writing these two. This chapter has it all: smut, banter, angst, and a whole lot of feelings bubbling to the surface. Things are shifting between them, and I have a feeling neither of them are ready for what comes next… Let me know what you think—I love hearing your thoughts! B xx

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the soreness. It was everywhere—radiating from the stickiness still lingering between your thighs, stretching to your hips, and even tingling faintly in your shoulders. It wasn’t unpleasant, though; it was the kind of ache that came from being touched, held, and claimed in ways you hadn’t realized you craved. It was a reminder of how thoroughly Bucky had made you his.

The second thing you noticed was a dawning realization—this was going to be a problem. Not just the sex with Bucky Barnes, though that alone was a problem worth having. It was everything about him.

Sleeping with Bucky Barnes. Waking up with Bucky Barnes. Breathing the same air as Bucky Barnes.

It was as if your body and mind had conspired in perfect unison, conditioning you in a single night to crave him in a way that felt intoxicating. The realization hit you like a jolt —he wasn’t just someone you wanted. He was someone you needed. Somewhere along the way, he had slipped past your defenses, carved out a space in your heart so large it felt as if it had always been his to claim.

He’d stirred feelings in you that you couldn’t yet name, sensations so profound they defied words. But beyond the fire he lit in your veins, there was something far more disarming—he made you feel safe. Truly, deeply safe in a way you hadn’t ever felt with anyone.

With his arm draped over you and the steady, reassuring rhythm of his breathing beneath your cheek, your body had surrendered in a way it never had before. Tension melted from your muscles, your mind quieted, and you slept. Not just sleep—rest. The kind that seeped into your bones, filling the cracks of exhaustion.

The third thing you noticed was that Bucky was already awake. His hand traced slow, idle patterns on your back. His gaze was fixed on something on the ceiling, his expression unreadable in the soft, muted light filtering through your frost-dusted window.

Your legs were tangled with his beneath the sheets, your body half-sprawled over his chest. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep on him like this, but he didn’t seem to mind—if anything, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly against the line of your spine told you he didn’t want you to move.

The chill in the room was undeniable, the frosty patterns snaking along the glass a stark reminder of the bitter cold outside. Yet none of it touched you. His warmth, it was overwhelming in a way that stole the breath from your lungs and left you dizzy. Every inch of you seemed to respond, like a live wire humming with his presence. Your thoughts, your senses, your very being seemed to narrow until all that remained was him—Bucky. He was all you could feel, all you could think about, all you could want.

You didn’t want to break the fragile peace of this moment. But the heaviness in your chest, the sheer weight of your feelings, made you sigh softly as you shifted, propping yourself up just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes flicked down, catching yours, a faint, lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning, doll,” he murmured, voice low and scratchy, rough in a way that made your insides twist deliciously.

Your heart squeezed painfully at the sound, the sight of him. The depth of your feelings was already too much, inexplicable tears prickling at your eyes as you studied him.

“Shh,” you mumbled, pressing your fingers lightly to his lips. His stubble grazed your fingertips as you trailed them down, and you couldn’t resist scratching the roughness of his jaw. Leaning down, you nuzzled against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. You heard the way his breath caught at the touch, the subtle hitch that made a small, satisfied smile bloom on your lips. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again. “Let me just… watch you for a bit.”

“That’s creepy,” he said, laughing softly, the sound rumbling beneath you as his fingers found your waist and pinched playfully.

“It’s romantic,” you countered, wriggling against him with a huff. Your fingers wandered over his temple, brushing his hair back and smoothing your thumb over the arc of his brow. “You look so different in the morning.”

His brows furrowed, a small frown forming that made you grin. “Different how?”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” you said softly, leaning forward to nuzzle his cheek, savoring the faint scratch of stubble. “You’re still just as handsome as when you’re trying to scare people off.”

That earned you a laugh, a real one, and you basked in the sound. It distracted him from the truth you weren’t ready to admit—that in this moment, he looked… almost at peace.

You weren’t sure if it was just this morning, or if it was something that happened often when he let himself stay still. But here, tangled in the sheets, with his body pressed to yours, he seemed lighter somehow. Like the weight of the world wasn’t crushing him, like the ghosts of his past weren’t pressing into his shoulders. For once, it felt like he wasn’t fighting so hard to hold himself together. He was just here, fully present, almost entirely yours.

Reaching over him, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. Barely 8 a.m. The storm that had been picking up since last night wasn’t letting up. The forecast confirmed it, showing a steady fall of snow predicted over the next few days. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as concern crept across your face.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, pulling you back down to rest fully against him. His hand brushed through your hair, tucking the strands behind your ear.

“The storm,” you said, turning the phone toward him. “It’s getting worse. Supposed to dump a few inches—everything’ll probably shut down for a bit.”

“A few inches, huh?” His lips twitched, and there was a glint of mischief in his eyes that immediately had you narrowing yours.

Your jaw dropped. “Did you just make a dick joke?”

Bucky smirked, his hand sliding to your hip. “What? You walked straight into that one, doll.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you huffed, pushing yourself upright to straddle him, tugging the sheets up to cover your bare chest. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I actually had it in you, darling.”

“Oh my god!” you burst out, laughing so hard you had to cover your mouth with your hand. “You have sex once and now you’re cracking dick jokes? What happened to my brooding soldier?”

“Maybe you fucked it out of me,” he replied, deadpan, though his eyes gleamed with pure amusement.

“Bucky!”

A dramatic groan escaped you as you buried your face in your hands, the warmth of Bucky’s body beneath you sending an undeniable thrill up your spine. His low chuckle rumbled through his chest, and you felt it everywhere, the sound curling around you like a vice. Even as you tried to maintain your composure, peeking at him through your fingers, you couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think I liked you better when you were all grumpy and broody,” you teased, though the way your voice wavered with a poorly hidden laugh betrayed you. “Maybe you’ve been hanging around Sam too much.”

His reaction was immediate—his head dropped back to the pillow, a deep, exaggerated sigh escaping him. His jaw tightened, eyes rolling as though he’d just been betrayed in the worst way. “Please, don’t talk about Sam while you’re sitting naked on top of me.”

Your laughter bubbled up, full and unrestrained. You gave his shoulders a playful squeeze, feeling the tension there, the way he was trying—failing—not to react to the feel of your soft thighs against his hips, the way you hovered over his bare stomach.

“Did I just kill the mood?” you asked, mischief lacing your words as you pushed back and rolled your hips experimentally.

Bucky’s hands twitched at your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes dragged back to you, a dangerous glint flashing beneath the lazy sweep of his lashes.

“You did,” he admitted, but his voice had gone rougher, lower—betraying him completely.

“Mm.” You hummed, playful, challenging. “You sure?”

With deliberate slowness, you let the sheets fall away, leaving yourself bare under the soft light. His gaze followed the movement, his lips parting slightly as his eyes darkened, locked onto the bare curve of your breasts like he couldn’t decide whether to admire or devour.

His hands slid up your ribcage, strong and reverent, until they cupped your breasts with a kind of aching intent. He hadn’t looked away, hadn’t even blinked.

“Eyes up here, soldier,” you murmured, covering his hands with yours.

His gaze locked with yours, a flicker of defiance sparking in his blue eyes. “Can you blame me?” he rasped, his voice rougher now as his thumbs brushed against your skin.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, though the corner of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Hmm, I guess I’ll allow it. For now.”

“For now,” he echoed, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hands slid back down to your waist, his grip firm. “You’re making it really hard to stay mad about that Sam comment.”

“Really hard, huh?” you teased, leaning down just enough so your lips were a whisper away from his. “Careful, Buck. You’re starting to sound downright cheerful this morning. People might start to think you’re going soft.”

“Soft?” In one swift motion, Bucky sat up, his arms wrapping around your back to pull you flush against him. The sudden movement made you gasp as your hands flew to his shoulders for balance and he lined you up to where you could feel his cock, the length pressing against your bare folds with unrelenting, delicious pressure. “Nothing soft about me…”

The playful banter faded, replaced by an electric tension that filled the air between you. He tugged at the sheets until they pooled at your hips, and you felt the weight of his gaze as it slowly traveled down your body. His eyes caught on the faint marks he’d left on your skin the night before.

Every curve, every detail seemed to captivate him, and he finally settled where your bare cunt hovered just above him, his cock twitching in response.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky breathed. His hands, guided by yours, bracketed your hips with a tenderness that betrayed the hunger in his eyes.

“Yes, James?” you replied, your tone teasing but softened with affection as you shifted against him, just enough to feel the glide of his cock between your already wet slit.

“You gonna ride me?” His voice was thick with longing, but his gaze was steady, not demanding, just full of raw, unfiltered want.

You tilted your head, a playful smile curling at your lips. “Are you asking, or telling me?”

His thumbs traced slow, lazy circles on your skin, the weight of his gaze never leaving your face. “Don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmured, the words dripping with something more than just permission.

“And if I do?” you interrupted, voice barely a whisper as you leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.

His hands slid up your sides, pulling you a fraction closer. “Then I can already tell it’ll be my favorite thing in the world…”

The heat in his voice made your pulse quicken. Brushing a soft kiss along his jaw, taking your time, you savored the closeness before you whispered, “Good answer, Sergeant Barnes.”

A groan escaped his lips when your hand slid between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance. The sound sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, shifting your hips slowly, teasing his tip. His grip tightened instinctively, his cock twitching in response to the playful movement.

When you finally pressed down, sinking onto him, you both gasped. The sensitivity from the night before and the lingering haze of sleep made everything feel heightened, more intense. As you took him inch by inch, you searched for his eyes, only to find them closed, the look on his face completely blissed out.

There was no frown, no furrowed brow—just the soft, unguarded pleasure that made his features seem almost tender. It was the first time you’d seen him so completely relaxed, so free of the tension that usually weighed on him. The quiet vulnerability was almost as intoxicating as the physical connection between you, and you let the moment stretch, savoring every inch of the way he filled you.

“Can you lay back for me, baby?” you whispered, your voice thick with want, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his bottom lip before pulling back just enough to watch his reaction. "Please?"

His breath was uneven, his lips still parted from where you'd stolen his next words. You saw it—the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the way his fingers tightened against your skin like he needed the anchor, the way his thighs locked as if ready to push up, to meet you, to regain control. He wanted to guide this, to lead where the two of you went, to hold onto the illusion of dominance.

You shook your head slowly, smoothing your hands up the rigid planes of his chest, applying just the slightest pressure. "Let me," you coaxed, barely above a whisper. "Let me take care of you."

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His hands, strong and capable, held fast to your back, his fingers digging in like he wasn’t sure how to let go.

“Hey,” you soothed, cupping his jaw with both hands, your thumbs stroking the stubble-dusted skin. "Do you trust me?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "It’s not that, I—” He hesitated, his gaze flickering over your face like he was searching for something, anything to latch onto. “We can do it together."

The words hung between you, weighted with meaning and the unspoken fears of a man who had spent too much of his life being used, controlled, forced into submission. You weren’t asking for that. You would never ask for that.

“I want to do this for you," you said softly, shifting slightly in his lap, watching how his lashes fluttered when you did. Bucky blinked, then, slowly, he nodded.

Relief washed over you, warm and heady, as you urged him down, your hands pressing firmly against his chest until his back met the mattress. His fingers dragged down your spine before settling against your hips, a silent plea for something to hold onto.

You rolled forward deliberately, watching the way his body responded to you, how his jaw clenched and his stomach tensed, how his hands flexed against your thighs as if struggling with the instinct to take control. You knew it was difficult for him to relinquish power, to simply be and let you guide him, but you wanted to show him—prove to him—that with you, he could.

“How do you like it?” you murmured, leaning forward. You shifted your hips, adjusting the rhythm, the angle, teasing a reaction from him. "Tell me, baby."

Bucky swallowed hard, his grip tightening briefly before he forced himself to relax, hands falling idle at his sides. “Shit, doll, just like t-that,” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint.

Guiding his hands to your body, settling one at your hip, the other on the small of your back. “Hold onto me,” you whispered.

His fingers twitched, then slid lower, gripping the soft flesh of your ass, possessive, grounding. The intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. He was holding on, just like you asked, but now you could feel it—the way he was fighting himself, the way he was trying to let go without completely losing himself.

“That’s it,” you praised, breath hitching as you rode him, slow, deliberate, making sure he felt every inch of your walls as you glided up and down, tip to base. "Don't let go. Hold onto me while I ride your pretty cock."

Bucky groaned, his hands digging into your flesh, the possessive touch making your own movements falter for a moment. He could break you if he wanted to. He could flip you over, take control, make you beg instead. But he didn't. “Look at me,” you pleaded, your voice thick. Your hands framed his face, trembling slightly as your fingers brushed the stubble along his jaw. “Come on, James. I need you to see this. Look at how good we are together… how perfect we fit.”

He resisted for a heartbeat, his lashes fluttering, before giving in to the pull of your voice. Slowly, his eyes opened, heavy-lidded and smoldering, the blue now darkened with need. Those eyes drank you in, devouring every curve, every sway of your body above him. He took in the way your skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat, the way you moved, as though his body had been carved to match yours.

“Fuck…” The word spilled from his lips like a prayer, barely more than a shuddered exhale. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath more ragged than the last. “I’ll… shit, I’ll cum if you keep this up. Can’t believe how well you take me.”

A breathless laugh escaped you, shaky but teasing, despite the heat pooling low in your belly. “Maybe that’s because I was made for you,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with intent.

The effect was immediate. His jaw tightened, his thighs flexed beneath you, and you felt him throb inside you, his reaction sending sparks through your own body. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding your movements now, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“You like that, don’t you?” you teased again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much control you were starting to lose. “The thought of having my body made just for yours?”

Bucky groaned, low and guttural, his head tipping back against the pillows. The muscles in his neck strained, and the sound he made was somewhere between pain and pleasure. “Don’t say shit like that,” he ground out, his fingers sliding up to spread across your lower back. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His hand trailed lower, his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp, your body jolting involuntarily. “James…” you whispered in warning, your voice breaking on the syllable, and your hand shot out to brace against the mattress beside his head, desperate for some semblance of balance.

“You hear that?” His voice was husky, his tone laced with awe and hunger as his thumb traced slow, devastating circles. “I can hear how wet you are for me. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat washing over you, your stomach tightening. But even as your body betrayed you, you shook your head stubbornly, refusing to let him win so easily. “S-Stop,” you stammered, though your resolve was already crumbling.

“I’m serious, James,” you protested, leaning forward until your chest brushed against his. The shift made him press impossibly deeper inside you, and the both of you let out simultaneous groans, your eyes rolling back rolled your eyes at the sensation. “This is for you,” you managed, though the words were barely audible over the sound of your erratic breathing.

“For us,” he corrected, his voice strained and rough.

Lips grazing the shell of his ear, each word trembling with intimacy and raw emotion, your voice softened, dropping to a tone meant only for him. “I want you to have whatever you need from me. Anything that makes you feel good. Do you understand?”

The silence between you stretched taut, broken only by the ragged pull of his breath. His hands, large and steady, now trembled slightly where they held you, as though he was warring with the weight of your words. And then, like a dam breaking, he gave in. His face buried itself in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing fevered, desperate kisses along your skin—, whispered agreements to surrender, to let go, to take what you offered so willingly.

Then, low and hoarse, his voice broke through the haze. “Can you—fuck—can you pick up the pace?” It was him, asking for what he wanted for once, and the need behind it made it feel like a plea. “Just like that,” he praised, his breath hitching as you moved faster, your body gliding up and down his shaft. “A bit quicker, good girl.”

The words hit you like a physical force, leaving you trembling. You obeyed instinctively, riding him harder, faster, and with more abandon, each movement drawing a new sound from his throat, each one unraveling you further.

“Keep going, love,” he urged, and your nails dug into his bicep, leaving crescents in his skin as your body burned hotter at the sound of the endearment. Love. That word. The way he said it, so casual yet so loaded, made your heart skip a beat. He needed to stop calling you that before you completely lost it.

“You’re so warm, so slick…” His voice was wrecked now, each word strung together. “Barely had any trouble taking me, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t hold the moan that escaped your lips, muffled only by your mouth finding his shoulder as pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. You felt him twitch inside you, and the knowledge of how close he was only drove you harder, desperate to tip him over the edge.

“Bucky, fuck,” you gasped, your voice breaking as tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. The effort of holding back, of teetering so close to release without falling, was too much. “I need you to cum,” you cried, your voice raw with desperation.

If he didn’t—if you didn’t—you knew you’d lose yourself, unravel completely under the weight of this unbearable tension. You couldn’t bear the thought of him holding back, couldn’t stand another moment without the relief you both so desperately needed.

His hands gripped you tighter, his nails biting into your skin as his control finally snapped. His hips thrust up to meet yours, hard and deliberate, and his voice came out in a broken groan. “Keep going, don’t stop—please.”

The “please” broke you, shattered whatever thread of composure you’d been clinging to. You cried out, your body moving frantically now, chasing the release. When it finally came, when his body tensed and you felt the warmth of him spill inside you, you fell with him, a tangle of limbs and gasping breaths and whispered names.

For a moment, the world stilled. All that existed was the way he held you, his hands splayed wide across your back, anchoring you to him as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. His lips pressed soft, lazy kisses against your hair, his breathing still uneven.

“You must be a dream…” he murmured at last, his voice laced with awe, as though the thought had just escaped without permission. “I don’t even think I could create something as good as this…”

Your heart clenched at his confession, the weight of his words stealing the breath from your lungs. Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you closed them tightly, desperate to keep your composure. The emotions crashing over you were too immense, too raw to be captured by words.

Instead, you leaned into him, pressing closer, letting the curve of your body against his speak for you. It was effortless, the way you fit together, like two halves of the same whole finally finding their place. His arms tightened around you in response, pulling you closer, as though he needed the connection as much as you did—maybe more.

The rhythmic sound of his breathing began to slow, each exhale softer than the last. You stayed there, suspended in the quiet, the world outside fading to nothing. Before the knot in your throat could fully unravel, before you could even whisper the words you felt so deeply, he was asleep. –

Bucky was still fast asleep when you slipped out of bed, his breathing deep and steady in the quiet of the room. Your legs ached in that delicious, lingering way that made you flush just thinking about the night before… and this morning. Your hair was a tangled mess, the kind only a long, hot shower could fix.

The water was scalding against your skin, steam curling around you in thick clouds. When you stepped out, you took your time applying moisturizer—something you did every morning, but today, you lingered a little longer, smoothing your hands over your skin with a care that felt indulgent. It wasn’t lost on you that you were paying extra attention, almost as if… as if you wanted to feel soft under his touch again.

God, you were in trouble.

By the time you finished drying your hair, the apartment was still blanketed in the rare hush of a snowstorm, the city outside subdued under layers of white. Even the usual hum of traffic and sirens seemed to have been swallowed up by, leaving you in an unusual sort of peace.

You met your own gaze in the fogged-up mirror, and for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. Your eyes were bright, cheeks still flushed from the heat of the shower—or maybe something else entirely—and there was a smile you couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard you tried. It was kind of ridiculous, how easily you had fallen into this thing with Bucky. How completely and utterly infatuated you’d become in such a short time.

But honestly, could you blame yourself? The man was… dreamy, for lack of a better word.

Shaking your head at your own reflection, you reached for the henley you’d stolen from the floor, the fabric soft and worn against your fingers. It still smelled like him and slipping it over your head felt like wrapping yourself in his warmth. You paired it with a fresh set of panties and some thick socks, padding out into the living room in search of something to fill the sudden hunger gnawing at you.

Somehow, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients with more enthusiasm than you expected. Maybe it was the restless energy still buzzing in your veins from the morning’s activities. Maybe it was the cold, the way it made you crave something warm and hearty.

Or maybe—if you were being honest with yourself—it had everything to do with the man currently sleeping soundly in your bed, his presence lingering in every corner of the apartment, wrapping around you like an invisible thread.

The soft sizzle of eggs in the pan and the low hum of the kettle were the only sounds breaking the peaceful quiet. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee curled through the air. You smiled to yourself as you moved through the kitchen, arranging a spread that was far more elaborate than necessary—fluffy pancakes, perfectly crisp bacon, fresh fruit sliced with more care than anyone really needed.

Maybe it was the coziness of the morning, the lingering heat of the shower still clinging to your skin, or maybe it was the memory of last night—the way Bucky’s hands had explored, the way his lips had left traces of him all over you—that had you feeling so... content. Settled.

And that thought alone sent a flicker of unease through your chest.

Because contentment was dangerous. It was heavy with expectations and unspoken promises, and you weren’t entirely sure how much Bucky was willing to give you—how far he’d let you in before pushing you away. He’d given up control for a few minutes, but what if that was his line?

The thought of that conversation—the one where you'd have to define whatever this was—loomed over you like a dark cloud. Sooner or later, it would have to happen. And you weren’t looking forward to facing whatever truths might come out of it.

Your knife hesitated mid-slice through a ripe strawberry, lost in the swirl of your thoughts, when the soft creak of the bedroom door pulled you back to reality. You turned, and there he was.

Bucky stood in the doorway, shirtless, clad only in his dark briefs, his broad frame filling the space with an effortless kind of dominance. Sleep still clung to him in the tousle of his hair, the crease of the pillow on his cheek, and the soft squint of his eyes as he blinked at you.

“So that’s where my shirt’s gone,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep, rough in that way that sent a shiver down your spine.

A grin tugged at your lips as you grabbed a mug from the counter, pouring him a cup of coffee. “Do you mind?” you asked sheepishly, holding the mug out as he padded across the kitchen, slumping against the island with a lazy sort of grace. “I can give it back, I have plenty o—”

“You keep it,” Bucky interrupted, his lips curling faintly as he took the coffee from your hands. His eyes flickered over you, slow and appreciative, the oversized henley hanging off your frame in a way that had his jaw tightening just slightly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he reached out, his vibranium arm wrapping around your waist with ease, tugging you closer until your front was flush against his. The coolness of his metal fingers pressed against the small of your back, holding you there, while his other hand brought the coffee to his lips for a sip.

You sighed, arms looping around his bare torso as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, you felt his grip tighten, his thumb stroking absentmindedly over your hip in a way that made your stomach flip.

“If you keep manhandling me like this,” you murmured against his skin, lips grazing his neck as you trailed soft kisses along his shoulder, “we’re never getting out of this apartment.”

Bucky hummed, a low, satisfied sound deep in his chest, and you felt his smirk against your hair.

“Exactly my plan, darling.”

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as you squeezed yourself closer, your cheek resting against the warmth of his skin. You let yourself admire him, tracing the strong lines of muscle beneath smooth skin, your fingers ghosting over the battle scars that told stories you’d never fully know. Each one was a reminder of the life he’d lived before you, the wars he’d fought—both the ones the world knew about and the ones you suspected still haunted him in the quiet moments.

God, he was so Bucky. It was almost too much—the way he filled the space around you, the way he was. The thought made your chest ache.

“As much as I’d love that,” you murmured, tilting your head up to meet his eyes, your lips brushing against his collarbone, “we need to get you some clothes.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and mild offense. “Don’t you have enough to steal?”

“Not even close.” You grinned, and his head dipped slightly, shaking with a soft huff of laughter.

His blue eyes studied you, something lazy and dangerous behind them. “What do we need clothes for, exactly?”

“For you.” Your fingers splayed against his ribs, enjoying the way he tensed slightly beneath your touch. “To stay here. I can wash these for you,” you gestured vaguely to his current state of undress, “but I doubt you want to spend the whole week in jeans and a leather jacket.”

“A week?” His brows lifted, the tease obvious in his voice, making your heart stumble.

Before you could think of a clever response, he drained the last of his coffee, the mug settling onto the counter with a soft clink. Then his hands—one warm, one cool—cupped your cheeks, holding you in place. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, his touch featherlight but commanding all the same.

“Are you keeping me hostage, my love?”

The words hit you like a sucker punch, the unexpected weight of them stealing the air from your lungs. My love. It wasn’t the first time he’d used a pet name, but this one—this one was new. It felt different. It held weight. Promise.

Your lips parted on instinct, a small, sharp inhale betraying you. His gaze locked you in place, left you rooted to the spot, utterly helpless under the sheer gravity of him. Your eyes searched his, wide and pleading, silently begging him to kiss you. To put you out of your misery.

Bucky’s lips curled, just barely, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And he did—of course he did. Because he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, teasingly close but not enough.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured against your lips.

Your fingers curled into his sides. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours. Definitely yours.”

You closed the distance between you with a desperation that felt all-consuming, your lips crashing against his like an addict chasing their next fix—eager, hungry, completely and utterly lost in the way he tasted.

Your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist, nails biting softly into his skin as your nose bumped his in your search for more. “What are you doing to me?” you whined, voice breathless and aching, chasing his lips even as he tilted your head, guiding you deeper into him.

He let you have him, let you take your fill, and it was a long, dizzying minute before you could even think about pulling away. When you did, your forehead rested against his chin.

“What were you saying, doll?” Bucky murmured against your mouth, his grip firm at the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair in a way that made your knees weak.

“Clothes,” you managed to say, gulping down air and pushing lightly against his chest. “We need to get you clothes.”

His lips curved at the corners, and he didn’t loosen his hold. “For what?” he drawled, pulling you closer when you tried—half-heartedly—to create distance, his bare chest radiating warmth against your own.

“For you to stay here.” You bit your lip, trying to fight the way your body naturally leaned into him. “The city’s shutting down, Bucky. We’re all working from home for the next few days. There’ll be no missions.”

He hummed, the vibration of it rumbling against your skin, completely unconcerned. “Didn’t you get the text?” you added, hoping some logic would break through the haze clouding both your minds.

“Haven’t had time to look at my phone,” he confessed, his lips brushing along your jaw, down the sensitive column of your neck, each kiss melting your resolve a little more.

You groaned, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck, though there was no real force behind it—no real will to stop him. “Bucky, come on,” you pleaded, though your head lolled back of its own accord, giving him even more space to continue his assault.

“I made you food,” you gasped, trying to ground yourself.

“You did,” he murmured, his mouth moving lower, a smile evident in his voice.

“I made you coffee.”

“You did,” he echoed, his vibranium hand slipping under the hem of his stolen shirt, cool against the heat of your skin.

“I made you pancakes—” Your words cut off with a sharp gasp as his tongue flicked over the sensitive spot just below your jaw, and your toes curled against the cold kitchen floor. A shiver shot down your spine, leaving you trembling in his hold. “Fuck. Okay, okay, we need to stop.”

Bucky hummed again, nipping playfully at your skin, and you felt the smirk forming against your throat. “Do we, though?”

You groaned, half in frustration, half in bliss. “Yes,” you insisted, even as your hands betrayed you, gripping his biceps tightly. “Before the food gets cold.”

He sighed dramatically, finally pulling back enough to meet your eyes, his face so unfairly handsome it almost had you giving in all over again. “Fine,” he grumbled, but the mischief in his eyes told you this wasn’t over.

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest and trying—failing—not to smile. “Go put some pants on, Barnes.”

–

Breakfast passed with only minor interruptions—most of them your fault. You couldn’t resist stealing a kiss when a smudge of syrup clung to the corner of Bucky’s mouth, and he had grumbled something about “food theft” while pulling you into another kiss that tasted like maple and coffee. It was slow, sweet, and enough to make you forget the cold world outside for a moment.

But reality crept back in, and soon he was leaving you in the kitchen, disappearing into the bathroom with a parting kiss to your temple. The sound of the shower running filled the space, leaving you alone with your thoughts—the worst possible company, if you were being honest.

By the time he stepped out, fresh and dressed in yesterday’s clothes, you had already decided you weren’t going to let him face the snow alone.

“Stay here, doll,” he’d said, tugging on his jacket. “It’s freezing out.”

“I’m coming with you,” you shot back, folding your arms in defiance.

Bucky sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was preparing for a battle he knew he’d lose. “I’ll be quick.”

“No.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “You’re not coming with me,” Bucky said firmly as he pulled his jacket on, his tone brooking no argument. “It’s freezing out there, and the sidewalks are a mess. It’s not safe.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his stubbornness with your own. “if it’s safe for you, then it’s safe for me. You’re not facing that alone. Not a chance.”

“Doll—”

“I’m coming, and that’s final.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk to his place, a few blocks away, was brutal. Snow crunched underfoot as the two of you trudged through the white-covered streets, your gloved hand slipping into his halfway through the walk. He didn’t say anything, but his grip tightened around yours. When you finally reached his building, your breath came out in small clouds, your cheeks and nose tingling from the cold. You followed him up the stairs to his apartment, still catching your breath as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Stepping inside, you were struck by how little had changed since the first time you’d been there—a fleeting late-night visit to drop off mission files. The same barebones setup greeted you: a modest TV, a makeshift bed on the floor with neatly folded blankets, a stack of plates drying on the counter, a chair. The bedroom door was ajar, offering a glimpse of a near-empty space that seemed more like a glorified storage space than a place to rest. The place wasn’t just bare; it was lifeless.

Bucky dropped his keys onto the counter, glancing at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s some drinks in the fridge if you want anything,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin for a second too long. “I’ll just grab some things.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes sweeping across the barren room. The walls were empty, a pale expanse of nothingness, save for a few nicks and scratches that told stories no one had been invited to hear. The furniture—minimal and purely functional—felt more like it belonged in a holding cell than in someone’s home. A tangle of emotions tightened in your chest, a dull ache that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with him.

It wasn’t just the absence of warmth, the lack of personal touches, or the refusal to claim this space as his own that hurt. It was what all of it represented. Bucky didn’t think he deserved any of it—not the cozy clutter of a home, not the comfort of a safe space, not the smallest token of belonging… not the comfort of you. That unyielding part of him, buried so deep it seemed untouchable, still whispered lies born of decades of torment. Lies that told him he was unworthy, that he was irredeemable, that the horrors he endured were somehow his burden to bear forever.

You knew better. You’d read the files. You’d combed through the blood-soaked history of the Winter Soldier, every mission meticulously documented, every coup orchestrated, every life taken with cold precision. You’d seen the names of dictators he’d helped rise to power and the innocents whose lives were stolen in the process. But those files didn’t just tell the story of what he’d done; they told the story of what had been done to him.

You knew about the experiments, the torture, the relentless breaking and rebuilding of a man until there was nothing left but a weapon. You knew about the years he spent frozen, locked in an icy limbo while the world turned without him. His friends and family grew older, grieved him, moved on. He had been robbed not only of his agency but of his life—again and again, piece by piece, memory by memory.

And yet, standing here in this hollow space that he refused to call a home, you felt the weight of it all pressing on your chest. It wasn’t just the sadness of what he had endured but the injustice of what he continued to carry. It broke your heart in ways you couldn’t articulate, shattered it all over again every time you caught a glimpse of this man—so lost, so burdened—who couldn’t see the good you saw in him.

The sound escaped before you could stop it—a raw, choked sob that ripped free from your chest, surprising even you. It was as if all the care and grief and pain you had been holding inside had suddenly coalesced into that single, involuntary noise. Your throat felt impossibly tight, like those damned files had transformed into invisible fists, squeezing the air from your lungs. Grief welled up for the man Bucky could have been, for the life he might have lived if fate had been kinder, and it crushed you.

You clapped a trembling hand over your mouth, desperate to smother the sound, but it was too late. He was there, moving faster than you could compose yourself, his presence a solid, grounding warmth behind you. His hands hovered just above your shoulders, hesitant but close enough.

“What happened?” His voice was soft but taut, worry stretching every word thin.

You shook your head quickly, trying to pull yourself together as your free hand swiped at the fat tears trailing down your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice cracking. “Really, I’m okay. You should—go back to packing.” You managed a shaky, watery smile, blinking furiously against the torrent threatening to spill again. “Do you need help with anything?”

But then you saw his face. The worry etched into his features, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. It was too much.

Whatever fragile grip you’d managed to find shattered in an instant. Your face crumpled, your chest heaving with a heartbroken sob that tore through the room. Your hands shot up instinctively, covering your face as though you could hide the sheer weight of your emotions from him.

“No, no, no,” you stammered through the tears, shaking your head. This wasn’t his burden to bear. Not after everything he’d already endured. Not when the weight of his past was already crushing him. He didn’t need your pain, your hurt for him, added to his. He didn’t deserve that.

Bucky didn’t move away. He didn’t retreat to the safety of distance or let the awkwardness of your emotions push him back. Instead, he stepped closer, his hands finally landing on your shoulders, firm and grounding. “Hey,” he said softly, the word more of an anchor than a question. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head again, your fingers clutching your face as though you could physically hold yourself together. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean for you to see this. I just—” Your voice broke, and you sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Why shouldn’t I see it?” He frowned, thumb brushing against the skin of your neck, the gesture so gentle it urged a new wave of tears, making you reach out to grip his jacket, the cold from the outside still lingering on the fabric. “Because you don’t need this,” you hiccupped, swallowing down another wracking sob. “You know I know... everything", your voice broke then and your hands tightened into fists, pulling him closer still. "I know what they did to you, everything, every time they broke you and built you up again, I know, and I-- it's not pity, I promise you it's not. I just... I l-- care. I care about you so much and you're so good, Bucky. I can't believe you've gone through all of that and you're still so good." He opened his mouth to respond, his lips twitching into a small, humorless smile. “Maybe I’m not,” he said, trying to laugh, trying to disarm you with that wry, self-deprecating edge you hated.

You practically climbed him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a grip so tight it would’ve choked any other man. But not him. Not your Bucky. “Don’t joke about this,” you pleaded, shaking your head against him, standing on your tiptoes and using every ounce of your strength and weight to pull him down toward you. Your lips pressed wet, frantic kisses to his temple, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips, your tears soaking into his skin. “Don’t you dare joke about this.” His breath hitched, a tremor you felt more than saw, and his hands faltered as they lifted to your back. They hovered there, caught in a limbo of indecision, as though he couldn’t decide if it was best to hold you closer or push you away.

“I’m so sorry. You don’t need this—me falling apart on you. Not after everything you’ve carried, Bucky. More than anyone ever should. And now I’m here, breaking... and you shouldn’t have to deal with that, too.”

“Stop,” he murmured, his voice low but steady, a quiet strength anchoring you in a way only he could. His hands pressed to your back with gentle insistence, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge. “Kinda nice to have someone grieve for me, you know?” His lips quirked in the faintest, almost disbelieving curve—a smile too fragile to hold. “I’ve felt like it’s just been me. Alone. For so long. After Steve—” His voice broke, a hitch that was barely audible but cracked through the air between you. “After Steve, I didn’t think anyone would ever… care. Not like that. Don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend. I love the guy. But I’ve always wondered if that’s the only kind of care I’d ever get from people. Like it’s more duty than choice.”

His confession twisted the knife of emotion deeper. A fresh wave of sobs welled up, breaking free as the raw vulnerability of his words settled into the hollow places inside you, making you ache for him in ways that felt almost unbearable.

“No,” you whispered fiercely, your head shaking against his. “It’s not duty. It’s not obligation. I care about you because of who you are, Bucky. Not who you were, not what you’ve been through, not because you need saving or because I feel sorry for you. It’s because you’re good. Whether you believe it or not, you are so good.”

His lips parted, an objection forming on his tongue, but you surged forward, pulling him into a kiss that silenced everything else. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate. It was a kiss that carried the weight of everything you couldn’t yet say aloud. Grief. Hope. Love. A promise that he wasn’t alone and never would be, not because someone felt they had to be there, but because they chose to.

He froze, stunned for a breathless moment, before surrendering. His hands slid down from your back to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He held you like you were the only steady thing in a world that kept tilting and shifting beneath his feet.

When you finally pulled back, tears streaked your cheeks, unchecked and raw, and his thumb brushed against your jawline, wiping them away. His eyes searched yours, filled with an unspoken vulnerability. “I…” he started, but the words died in his throat.

You wanted to ask him to tell you everything that churned behind those stormy blue eyes. You wanted to dive headfirst into the hurricane of his thoughts, to feel the raw chaos of the emotions he kept so carefully hidden. You longed to strip away the armor he wore, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between you but the fragile truth of him.

More than anything, you wanted to carve out a home in the spaces where others had turned away. You wanted to fill the voids they left behind, to prove that for you, there was no “something better.” There never could be. Because this—he—was everything.

Instead, for his sake—and maybe a little for yours—you forced a shaky laugh and tried to lighten the mood. “This is why you need a bed in here,” you joked weakly, your voice cracking under emotions you couldn’t quite suppress.

His lips twitched, and the faintest hint of a smile broke through the storm. “Because crying and having sex is a great idea?” His tone carried a teasing edge, but you could hear his quiet relief.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, hiccupping through your tears. “Have you never heard of tears of pleasure?”

His brow furrowed, the expression so unguarded and boyish that it tugged something deep inside you. “...No?”

“Guess you haven’t tried hard enough, then,” you quipped, your voice lighter but still trembling. Vulnerability lingered just beneath the surface, too close to keep hidden.

He shook his head, exhaling a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe you’re joking right now.”

He tilted your chin up with his thumbs then, fingers buried on the back of your hair and his lips found yours. It wasn’t soft, wasn’t careful. His hands slipped and framed your face as if he could hold all of you in his palms, as if he was trying to tell you what he couldn’t say. And when you clung to him, your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through his hair, it felt like trying to tether yourself to something real in a world that kept slipping away.

Then his hands slid to your thighs, gripping firmly, and before you knew it, he lifted you with an ease that made your head swim. Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively and you felt his strength beneath your fingers.

“If I don’t joke,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling with your confession, “I’m gonna say a lot of things I shouldn’t.”

His steps faltered, and he paused, holding you there, his forehead brushing yours. “Like what?” he asked, a dangerous invitation.

“You don’t want to know,” you whispered, shaking your head. You kissed him again, feverish and desperate, trying to drown the words that threatened to spill out—the words that had been clawing at your throat for weeks. “Not yet. God, not yet.”

He resumed, carrying you toward the makeshift bed of blankets. He knelt with you, settling you down as gently as if you were made of glass. His eyes bore into yours, a storm of curiosity and hesitation swirling within them.

“But what if I do?” His voice was barely above a whisper. The steel blue pinned you in place, raw and searching, like he was trying to unearth the pieces of you you’d been holding tightly to your chest.

“Bucky, don’t,” you choked out as tears spilled anew. “I’m scared enough already. I’ve shown you too much—I’ve said way too much.” You let out a shaky laugh, more bitter than amused. “I’m terrified you’ll run out that door the second I look away. Don’t make me say it. Please don’t.”

His grip tightened, his forehead falling against yours as his weight settled between your legs, making you inhale sharply at the sensation. His breath ghosted against your lips, steady and grounding, as his voice came soft but resolute. “What do you need, then? Tell me, doll.”

“Just kiss me,” you pleaded, fingers dragging over the stubble on his jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, eyes searching his like you couldn’t decide where to look, how to touch. “Keep my mouth shut, will you?” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist. “Do it until I forget my name.”

He let out a breath and you saw the glassiness in his eyes, your own emotion reflected on his as he turned to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “As long as you don’t forget mine,” his voice soft and reverent, as though the thought of you forgetting him was too much to bear. Leaning down until all of his weight was on yours, his tongue slipped into your mouth with a possessive stroke that sent heat pooling in your center.

“I could never,” you breathed, words mumbled, arching up when his hand found its way under your shirt to find soft, warm skin. “I could never forget you, James.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader smut #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic

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valtsv · 3 months ago

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I know people who don’t like alt fashion often think we are annoying or think we think too highly of ourselves/ are attention seeking. I don’t think they understand that more often than positive reactions people are genuinely cruel and sometimes violent about it. “Attention seeking”…The attention I get is getting harassed on the bus for the crime of wearing an outfit some stranger thinks is weird.

honestly. i was actually talking to some friends, several of whom are more visibly and openly queer than i am, at a party last month, and at ond point the topic turned to the struggle of choosing how to present yourself and weighing up the benefits of that against the potential risks of being identified as a queer person and hatecrimed for it - wearing a skirt outside the house when you're still in the early stages of transition, cutting your hair short, etc. and i expressed solidarity with them by pointing out that, although i wasn't trying to compare our experiences because theirs were undeniably more serious, i understood to an extent what they were going through because i've also experienced harassment for the way that i dress and my general outward physical appearance. which led to us discussing that, actually, although being free to express fundamental parts of your identity in a society where those aspects of you are marginalised and oppressed is without question more of a human rights issue than being able to explore alternative fashion styles, they're both rooted in the same foundational attitude - that being that any deviation from the norm is perceived as a threat by some people, who may decided to uphold that status quo with violence because they're confident that the majority will support them and blame the victim for inviting it upon themselves through their "lifestyle choices". there's a reason so many alt fashion styles have their origin in specific subcultures - they're a way of showing belonging, but also a way of openly demonstrating difference, and rejection of certain normative ideals. which is important to understand if you have a genuine interest in alt fashion - you will be perceived as making a provocative statement by some people, whether that's your intention or not. it's good knowledge to have if it's something you want to commit to.

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months ago

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DCxDP fanfic idea: The Good Luck Charm

Wes goes to Gotham for a regular vacation, except he somehow has proof of Danny being Phantom. After years of threatening to expose him, Danny thinks he will do it in the big city now that they have graduated, so he follows after Wes, intending to foil his plan.

The redhead has no idea, as he has gotten over his desire to connect the two and is planning on enjoying his year gap before he suffers through college. He came to Gotham for the history stuff since he adored that subject.

He plans on seeing all the famous landmarks and even the minor ones that are only important to Gotham. Sure, he's heard of the crime rates, but as a sheltered boy from a small town whose only crime is paranormal-related, Wes thinks the tales are exaggerated.

Danny tells his parents and friends that he will do some soul-searching and take a spiritual retreat instead of going to College or getting a job for a while.

He does not want to worry them about Wes's proof in case he is exposed and the GIW attempts to arrest them for sheltering him. They hear that Wes is also going to Gotham briefly and assume Danny's random awareness of the redhead is due to an unresolved crush.

They let him shift into Phantom and fly after Wes' plane, shaking their heads at the love-struck fool.

While in Gotham, he attracts the attention of the Bats, who have no idea why a being of such power and long history (due to his time travel chase of Vlad, his existence was recorded, and of course, the Bats found it) is following around this random tourist who, for all intentions, is just sightseeing.

The more they watch Phantom, the more they realize that Phantom is somehow neutralizing the Gotham curse because Wes is far too lucky in this shit show city. The kid hasn't been mugged once and hasn't been caught up in rouge attacks. In fact, whenever he walks around the city, everything always seems to work out for him.

Bruce witnessed him literally drop his wallet only for it to be picked up by a crow who then dropped it on a bus, which drove it down the street until the wind flung it off the bus's roof, where it landed on the top of a hotdog cart umbrella. When Wes stopped for a chili cheese dog, it slid off the umbrella and fell right in his hand after he felt his pockets looking for it.

Phantom was watching him from alley entrance, tracking the wallet's path as Bruce was on the roof watching the two strangers with a mildly mystified expression.

Phantom's good luck wasn't limited to Wes, as anyone the redhead stood close to gained some positive karma. Once, while he was riding the historical train, a couple sitting behind him had been the random winners of a sweepstake. The middle-aged man in front of him got a call from his doctor, happily telling him they had found a match for organ translation, and the single mother struggling with her kids had been selected by the train staff for a completely free VIP package that she was able to later sell to keep her from being evicted.

All that from an hour-long ride near Wes Weston and the invisible ghost floating above him—the Bats used specialized goggles that allowed them to see the outline of Phantom.

The Bats want Wes to stay so Phantom's good luck can linger around the city. He's somehow cleaning up crime in the short two weeks he's been here, more than they ever could in the many years they've been attempting to stop crime.

#dcxdpdabbles #The Good Luck Charm #Part 1 #Wes Weston is oblivious to Danny #Danny thinks he hid the eviednce and is following him around waiting for him to sleep up #He also is unaware of normal crimes #The Bats are like "What is happening? and How can we make him stay??#The real question is this: Is it Danny or Wes causing this good luck??

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abxtchbetired · 9 months ago

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seven deadly sins headcanons

because i'm tired of sinday memes being all about sex. send a category + a number. warning: some of the questions in the lust section are nsft. that's why it's at the bottom.

gluttony - - -

what could your muse eat all the time without ever getting tired of it?

a feast of all your muse's favorite foods is laid out in front of them. what's on the menu?

is your muse the type to leave the last bit of food for someone else, or to take it for themselves before someone else can claim it?

does your muse frequently overeat?

does your muse go back for seconds? thirds? fourths?

how many meals and snacks does your muse eat in a day?

what are your muse's go-to beverages?

does your muse drink enough water?

does your muse drink many sugary drinks, like soda or juice?

is your muse a heavy (alcohol) drinker? if so, what do they drink? in what situations do they drink? do they know their limits? do they stop at their limit, or go past it?

is your muse addicted to caffeine? if so, what is their preferred caffeinated beverage?

does your muse have a sweet tooth?

greed - - -

what does your muse collect, if anything?

is your muse prone to hoarding anything?

what is your muse's financial situation? what are their financial goals?

is money important to your muse? why or why not?

how much money does your muse keep in their checking account at any given time? if your muse keeps cash, how much do they usually have in their wallet? does your muse carry coins around? what is the limit on their credit card, if they have one? do they have multiple credit cards?

does your muse have good savings habits? how much do they currently have saved up?

is your muse prone to shopping sprees? if so, what do they usually indulge in buying?

is your muse in debt? if so, are they managing it well, or are they struggling?

would your muse throw others under the bus/step on others if it meant they could find more success/make more money?

would your muse steal anything?

wrath - - -

does your muse like to get revenge on those they feel have wronged them?

how does your muse handle anger? do they have anger issues? how do they manage or vent their anger?

does your muse believe in karma?

did your muse get into fights as a kid? do they get into fights as an adult? if your muse never got into fights before, would they in the name of self defense?

what, if anything, provokes your muse to violence?

does your muse believe that violence can solve some problems? or are they more a "violence is never the answer" type? somewhere in-between?

does your muse destroy things for fun, or to let off steam?

was your muse a bully? or were they bullied themselves?

has your muse ever considered murdering someone? or have they actually gone through with murdering someone?

does your muse enjoy hurting others, whether it be physically or emotionally?

pride - - -

does your muse believe they are the best at everything, even if that belief is unwarranted?

in what areas might your muse be a little overconfident? are they overconfident in the sense that they don't have the skills to back it up, or in the sense that they do have the skills but they are obnoxious in their confidence?

does your muse accept responsibility for their actions when they have done something wrong?

is your muse comfortable with apologizing to others?

does your muse feel remorse? if so, how do they express it?

has your muse every blown off preparing for something because they were confident they could complete the task without preparation? if so, what was the situation?

is your muse prone to bragging? what do they brag about?

does your muse look down on others they perceive as being "not as good" at things as they are?

sloth - - -

on what day(s) does your muse feel most lazy? at a specific time of day, or all day?

is your muse prone to procrastination?

what chores/responsibilities does your muse avoid doing at all costs?

how many hours of sleep does your muse get? do they feel rested after, or are they still tired?

once your muse gets started doing something important, do they drag their feet, take many breaks, and ultimately prolong the task? or do they work as quickly as possible, at the sacrifice of a quality job? or do they work efficiently without sacrificing quality?

does your muse put on real clothes every day, or only if they have to go out?

if your muse could get away with wearing pajamas all day every day, would they?

does your muse complain about responsibilities a lot?

is your muse the type to get up on time on their own or with an alarm? are they the type to hit snooze over and over?

envy - - -

does your muse get jealous easily, or does it take a lot for them to feel it?

what kinds of things does your muse get jealous about?

does your muse compare themselves to others often? if so, how does it affect them?

lust - - -

is your muse sexually active? if so, how often do they have sex? how many partners do they typically have at one time? if not, why not?

what is your muse's sexuality? if asexual, are they sex favorable, sex indifferent, or sex repulsed?

is your muse vanilla, or are they kinky? if kinky, what are their top three kinks, and why do they like them? if vanilla, what position(s) does your muse have sex in?

what sex-related words turn your muse on? what words make them cringe?

does your muse masturbate? if so, how often, and how do they get themselves off? if not, why not?

does your muse have high, medium, or low libido?

is sex compatibility a dealbreaker for your muse in a relationship? why or why not?

how does your muse feel about one-night-stands?

what was your muse's first time having sex like? who was it with, why did they choose that person, where did it take place, how old were they, and what happened?

#sinday meme #rp meme #headcanon meme #lore meme

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clare-875 · 3 months ago

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OMG, I SUUPPERRR Love the "New Names" Prompt, it was actually what led me to your blog here, the last 3 parts were a blast to read, so I was wondering if you could maybe do a part 4 that includes Kidd, King, Katakuri, and maybe 2 or 3 characters of your choice?

New Names pt.4 (Kid, Katakuri, Smoker)

_____ Pairings: Kidd x Reader; Katakuri x Reader; Smoker x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him pal, buddy, etc. Warnings: Mostly Fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't watched One Piece up to where King is introduced so I added Smoker instead (I couldn't think of any other characters)! I'm so glad you like the series! [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 2: Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile] [Part 3: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin] _____

- Kid -

(A/N: Suggestive towards the end?)

When you decide to play a small prank on your boyfriend it is only later that you find out the consequences you should've regarded beforehand. But in the moment you were too giddy to care. You had finally thought of something not too bad that Kid would kick you off the ship but noticeable enough for him to react. So, when your eyes spotted your boyfriend's signature red hair and permanent frown, you had to struggle to keep the grin from spreading on your face.

You just had to see it through until the end.

He had sauntered in as always, eyes sharp and broad shoulders slouching, his gaze darting to you so subtly you'd have to be an expert to witness it. You are in an open space - the deck of the ship - and so he barely gives you any sign of intimacy but he always prefers to linger by your side. He seems irritated as you had not been beside him for long today, and you soon find out your thoughts are right by his prompt words.

"Babe," his voice is deep in the air but gritted against his teeth. "Here you are, I fucking searched the whole ship for you."

You fight to roll your eyes at his impatience but you concede to the plan you have set out for yourself and reply.

"Sorry buddy, I should've let you know earlier I'd be on deck."

And all of a sudden, you could hear a pin drop.

Promptly, it's like the ocean waves that crash against the ship go silent along with the restless wind in the sails. Your crewmember's voices hush to nothing as they eye you and your Captain, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at your words. All they know is that you are fortunate to be his girlfriend because partner or not, Kid would likely throw anyone off the ship if they called him buddy.

His expression does nothing to hide just that fact.

He had frozen still, his eyes had sharpened deadlier than usual, fists clenched to his side and face darkening. You can see the twitch of his eyebrows and the tensity of his form but are most surprised to see a slight pink hue on his cheeks. Was that embarrassment?

Despite the "dangerous" atmosphere, you have to fight back a laugh.

"Are you alright, buddy?"

Your crew members gape at you, some shaking their heads to try and stop your words. But you are bold. Of course you were, you were dating Eustass Kid.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

Kid approaches you but then he bears witness to your lips quirking upwards into a sly grin. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you lean back into the chair you sat in, but unbeknownst to you it is then that your boyfriend’s mind clicks.

"Bu-ddy," you reply in a sing-song voice.

The crew are shocked at their Captain's restraint, especially when they see him look like he's ready to murder someone. The funny thing is that he looked like he was ready to kill anyone who wasn't you.

They all collectively take a step back.

However, their shock only amplifies ten-fold when all the pent-up tension fades as Kid's lips turn upwards into a taunting smirk. Killer has to stop himself from putting a hand to his head at everyone’s absurd reactions.

"Now princess, it seems you've forgotten who's actually in charge here."

Your eyes widen in your own surprise at the sudden change in his demeanour. Kid looks at you with his same sharp eyes but his wide smirk shines almost scarily as he approaches you closer. “You think you can get away with pranking your Captain? Cause I don’t think you fucking can babe.” He pulls you to your feet before hoisting you up on his shoulder.

"Hey- okay, I'm sorry! I’m sorry! Kid! Babe, put me down!"

But Kid does not heed your words and instead walks away from the still-gaping crew, intent on having you in his chambers until it is only his name that slips your lips.

- Katakuri -

When you are left alone with your thoughts, you oftentimes come up with ideas that usually incorporate your boyfriend. And today, you found yourself quite alone. You were bored and waiting for Katakuri to come back to you after being sent on a mission to God-knows-where. Luckily, a thought had popped into your mind quite easily and it had intrigued you to see what your boyfriend's reaction would be.

Speaking of which, you could hear heavy footsteps making their way to your door, and sure enough, your stoic boyfriend had knocked, patiently waiting for you to answer. You grin happily despite your plan as you missed him though he has been gone only a few hours. "Coming!" You instantly stand and open your door, smile only brightening at the sight of Katakuri safe and at home. You see his eyes soften as he looks at you.

"Hello love," His words are gentle to you, and you hesitate for only a moment before complying with your plan.

"Hey man, I missed you!"

In a rare moment, you see Katakuri's eyes shine with complete confusion. It is followed by the furrow of his brows as though he thought it was not you speaking to him, but someone else. The expression only lingers for a moment though, and then he looks at you with his usual, serious stare.

"Love..."

You freeze when he looks at you so knowingly, so quickly.

"Y-Yeah man?"

Katakuri sighs before leaning down to your eye level, patience in the depths of his reserved eyes.

"Is this another one of your tricks where I am to be surprised by your words or actions?"

You stop in surprise at how he has figured you out so easily, only now realising he must’ve gotten used to your impromptu pranks when left to your thoughts. You stutter before sighing heavily and rolling your eyes.

"Yes love, it is. You could’ve played along though!”

Your boyfriend looks at you with the same softness in his eyes as he witnesses your pouting face.

“Apologies love,” his words are muttered gently by your ear. He then removes the scarf that covers the lower half of his face, and suddenly he kisses your cheek softly. “I just rather terms of endearment from your lips, rather than man.”

You freeze at his actions and words and all of a sudden it is you who is taken aback as heat rushes to your face. As Katakuri steps past you into your chambers you feel yourself so lost in thought that for a moment, you completely forget about your failed prank. That is until your boyfriend calls for you again.

- Smoker -

Your boyfriend is often preoccupied and busy with the tasks that come with being a high-ranking officer of the Marines. You know the challenges and toils of being one, as you are one yourself. However, that doesn't disregard the fact that you miss him sometimes, as your roles often put distance between the two of you. Today was no different but Smoker would be returning to you soon after a shorter mission than usual, and unbeknownst to him you had come up with a small prank in the short time you were apart.

Your eyes move forward to the sight of a Marine ship approaching port and you fight to contain your grin. Sure enough, you can hear the rowdiness of Smoker's crew and the shouts of Tashigi as they go to dock the ship. When they finally do, they race to solid ground, most of them grinning and others saluting you as they pass. "Hello Vice-Admiral [y/n]!" You simply smile as you await your boyfriend and sure enough, he comes off the ship to you soon after, a nod of acknowledgement as he approaches your side.

"Hello love," he murmurs to you lowly and only so you can hear. You smile at the subtle way his eyes soften slightly, knowing he has missed you too.

"Hey dude, how was your mission?"

As you walk toward headquarters, suddenly you find that Smoker has frozen and his footsteps faltered. You stop and turn to him in mock confusion.

"What's wrong?"

He eyes you carefully as smoke bellows from the cigar in his mouth.

"Dude-?"

He quickly interrupts, the furrow of his brows and twitching of his lips showing you that he has of course noticed and was troubled.

"Who are you talking to right now?" Smoker grumbles to you, still static where he stands. You decide to approach him then, and tilt your head to the side, playing dumb.

"You?"

Smoker grits his teeth, the cigar in his mouth almost snapping in half. He leans down to you, so you see the way his eyes have sharpened.

"I'm sorry love, but I don't answer to dude. I thought you of all people would know that."

Your words stumble at his sudden proximity and you feel the heat wanting to rush to your face.

"I- I don't know what-"

Smoker lifts his hand and flicks your forehead lightly watching in amusement as you stare at him dumbfounded.

"Don't do that again."

He then continues walking but silently waits for you to fall into step beside him once more. He had missed you too much to hear such a platonic term slip your lips. He smiles subtly when you catch up to him once more, a kissable pout to your lips.

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itslucyhenley · 2 years ago

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i love everything about Aziraphale’s interactions with Muriel. he’s so gentle every time he tells her she’s getting something wrong by just suggesting the right thing. there’s no stomping on her enthusiasm because he can clearly see they’re enamored with earth and humanity. and Michael Sheen’s little ‘concerned/exasperated/seeing himself in Muriel’ expressions during the teacup struggle bus moment are honestly everything to me.

#the very best angel dad to ever exist #michael sheen is an acTOR #good omens #good omens spoilers #muriel #aziraphale #michael sheen

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Technical Issues Cw: smut, sex work, OnlyFans, porn, fuck machine, squirting, prostitution handjob, tell me if I missed any.

Part3

It started with a reluctant alliance between SpecGru and KorTac, two powerful PMCs that were tricked by the same employer, played and played again, unable to work alone to take them down. So both heads of the PMCs decided to work together to take down this problematic employer, which meant that they’d have to come and go between bases, sharing the same space and the same area. They were unenthusiastic about it, still holding a grudge against the other.

There was a technical issue in giving access to KoTac members sent over to the British base the right clearances for the compiled data, to-know intel and the statistics. That’s how König found himself in the database, looking up the different clearance codes to give him access to the information he needed before 1900, he only had half an hour to find the code if he didn’t want to miss the event.

Unfortunately, all he stumbled into was a page, a familiar name popping up on this person’s browser history. It was Soap’s. Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish, the snipe and demolition specialist that König knew from both experience and intel. It was a strange find, Soap had used a public browser to watch his nightly activities and had forgotten to wipe it clean —did he even wipe his history? Something ugly flared in König’s chest, an explosive warmth of possession and envy. How could’ve he not seen him on the chat when König spent so much time on it himself?

With dilated pupils and a one-track mind, he completed his search and rushed to his room, pushing past everyone he met in the hall with his broad shoulders and even bigger ego, nostrils flaring and seeing red. He knew this kind of reaction was nonsensical, near illogical on his par, seeing the type of content he consumed, but he couldn’t help it, he was the second highest payer.

Slamming and locking the door behind him, he ripped his mask off, throwing it haphazardly on the floor and ripped his clothes off, his skin hot to the touch in his cold room. It was 1857 —perfect. Settling himself on his temporary desk in nothing but his briefs, he felt his cock struggle against the fabric, head poking out on the side of his boxers. He was quick to open up the right tab, clicking in the sweet temptation of the profile picture.

A screen popped out, a familiar bed in a familiar setting with familiar objects surrounding the plush sheets, and in the middle, sat the little cherub of his dreams. Seraphim, the little slut that he was happy to spend his legacy on, to watch and indulge in the sinful act jerking off to a woman he might never meet or know outside of this screen. He pushed his waistband down his thighs and his cock swung out, hanging low between his legs, veins pulsing with the rush of blood from his head to his cock and uncut head drooling on his chair.

👑 gifted you 100$

“Hello, sir,” you smiled so sweetly at him, glossy lips pulled into an innocent image, “Thank you for the gift.”

He always gave you a gift at the start of each live he watched to get a greeting from you and would gift you much more with ever minute he spent watching you bend over your bed, ass up and face down, getting fucked by the fuck machine he gifted you. You had two cameras set up, one that let them view your tight cunt stretched around the silicone copy of his cock - thick and veiny - and one giving them a clear view of your tearful eyes and cock drunk expression.

König kept his eyes glued to your cunt, ploughed so roughly bu his girth that slick gushed around it, lips swollen and wet, and the little plug your pushed into your flared rim, the flat handle spreading your ass for them to see. He jerked himself, calloused fingers gripping the head of his cock and spreading pre down his shaft, the foreskin spread around his girth. He shuddered, his cock throbbing in his hand, reacting to the image of your ravaged and gasping figure taking the dildo so well, mewling and wailing like the angelic whore you were.

He wanted you to come, he wanted to see you squirt around the toy, slick rolling down your thighs in waves of pleasure, your voice breaking as you mewl and wail. He moved thoughtlessly, hand moving to type out his command, sending you more money, it was an addiction at this rate, his need to sustain you and your living. If you let him, he’d be your sugar daddy, paying for everything you’d need and you’d have the real deal, his hot and heavy cock rather than a silicone.

“Please let me come, sir!” Your begging had always been delicious and who was he to deny you of your pleasure when you brought him to his ground shaking climax.

He came with a loud groan, a deep rumbling in his chest, still pumping his cock as the head twisted, spraying his opaque cum over the table, white and viscous. His eyes rolled at the back of his mind, lids feeling heavy and body wracked with tremors, legs jerking as his hand slowed down, steadily riding out his mind-numbing release.

“Them too?” Horangi peered at the four Brits, an unamused gleam in his hidden eyes.

König nodded, his hood twisting with every motion, fingers moving gracefully over his rifle, dismantling and cleaning it after their recon mission. A groan caught his attention, his eyes moving from the beauty of his weapon to the cold blues that stared back at him.

“It does not matter,” Nikto’s voice had always been violent, a rough and jagged husk that exhumed power, “We found her first.”

It was a statement to himself, a strong and unyielding one that stemmed from Nikto’s dark and broken person, but they agreed.

Part 5

Taglist: @warenai @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @cutiecusp @ladyof-themoon @yourdaydreamerfan @blackhoodlea @daisychainsinknots @under-the-dirt @moansteur @iamnotfinedaddy @0alk0msan @katzarantos @danielle143 @bubbletae7

#x reader #cod mw2 #konig mw2 #mw2 smut #konig x reader #cod mw2 x reader #Sex worker!reader #konig #konig cod #cod konig #konig smut #konig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #könig mw2 #x fem!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #cod smut

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sofiascripts · 7 months ago

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love in recovery!: the unmanliest of pairs ✧˖° ༯

༉‧₊˚. part two to love in recovery ✧˚ · . bakugou cant stop thinking about you, he reflects on your moments together during the last few weeks and decides hes gotta see you! one problem though, schools are out of session for winter break and he has no idea where to find you. thankfully theres midoriya!

✎ wc: 7946

⤑ tw: not proofread, cursing, also i ended up taking the love at first site route with this so it might be ooc bakugou… </3 or maybe its very in character bc ur just that awesome he couldnt help himself really (it gets pretty ooc at the end, i was struggling but i NEEDED it to end that way so his usual demeanor had to disappear for a sec.)

bakugou was in what he believed was a state of despair. his mind, usually consumed with concerns about hero work and his so-called “publicity problems,” had recently become fixated on something entirely different: you.

it all began when bakugou was enlisted to help out during finals week at his old high school. the hero course students were gearing up for a practical exam against pro heroes. he remembered his own practical exams, which were conducted by his old teachers. this time, however, the school decided to mix things up by bringing in younger, fresher heroes. the idea was to inspire the students and give them a chance to work with their idols, pros they don't get to see on a daily basis. additionally, it provided a great opportunity to boost the young pros' hero rankings–

and it was a nice tax break for the agencies involved.

“itll be nice to roam those familiar halls, and visit our old teachers and our classrooms, where our forgotten youth still lingers.” tokoyami remarked, his voice heavy with a wistful undertone. they all exchange uneasy glances before kirishima placed a comforting hand on tokoyamis shoulder and cleared his throat.

“yeah something like that man– heard midoriya talking about a few new heroes joining in,” kirishima added shifting the focus.

“yeah! heard recovery girl finally retired. the new one’s apparently a cutie,” kaminari said leaning back into his seat with a wide grin.

“she is! izukus invited her a couple times when we met up with our old group,” uraraka said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “she’s got this really warm, friendly vibe. every time ive worked with her, she’s been so caring and attentive. it’s clear she really loves what she does”

“yep! she’s healed me once! she really knows her stuff–her quirk is impressive, shes also got this reassuring presence that makes you feel better just being around her,” tsuyu added with a smile.

“who cares about that kind of crap?” bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes. “didnt meet up to talk about some new nurse. what i want to know is what kind of target practice we’re dealing with for the next two weeks."

the group let out a unified sigh as the conversation shifted back to their work. they shared notes from the recent sports festivals and began detailing the students they’d be testing, outlining the quirks and abilities to expect. each pro hero reviewed the information attentively, mentally preparing for the demanding two weeks ahead.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

on the first day of finals, the six pros entered the building, the familiar halls of u.a. stirring memories of their own time as students. the air was thick with anticipation, a mixture of nerves and nostalgia that tugged at their senses. aizawa met them at the entrance, his usual tired expression softened slightly as he acknowledged his former students with a curt nod.

“you’re cutting it close,”aizawa murmured, gesturing for them to follow him. “the students are already in the testing site, so we need to head there immediately”

“apologies, mr. aizawa," tokoyami added, his tone somber. "i feared glimpsing the shadows of our past selves, the echoes we once cast.” his words left the group staring at him awkwardly.

“he missed the bus,” kirishima clarified with a shake of his head. aizawa nodded, already familiar with tokoyamis, interesting demeanor. there was no time for pleasantries or catching up with their old teachers, as they were already running a bit late. the group moved swiftly through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the school.

as they rounded a corner, they passed by the infirmary. the door was slightly ajar, and midoriya was leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. he was engaged in conversation with someone inside, his voice carrying a tone of lighthearted teasing that caught their attention.

“yeah, well, let’s hope we don’t run into each other too much today. if the students stay injury-free, you might actually get a chance to relax!” midoriya’s smile was bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke.

bakugou barely registered midoriya’s words, his attention immediately caught by the soft, warm laugh that followed.

“god, i wish,” you replied with a playful sigh, amusement lacing your voice. “but if these kids are anything like aizawa described you, i’ll probably end up needing help myself.”

as the group walked by, bakugou’s eyes were already peering in, there you were standing in the infirmary, leaning against a counter with a white coat draped over your frame. the crisp, clean fabric paired nicely with the light color of your sundress which fell loosely around you. your arms were crossed casually, and the cheeky grin on your face sent an unexplainable jolt through him.

for a brief moment, bakugou’s mind scrambled for an explanation—had one of these brats used their quirk on him? his palms grew damp, a slight prickling sensation tingling beneath his skin, but he quickly dismissed it, convincing himself it was just the heat of the building, the stress of the upcoming practicals. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it.

your eyes briefly met his as they walked past, and the world seemed to snap back into focus. he scowled, turning his gaze back to the path ahead, but the image of you lingered in his mind, seared into his thoughts like a stubborn ember refusing to die out.

“damn brats,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, as they continued on their way to the testing site. but his usual biting tone lacked its usual conviction, the warmth of your laugh still echoing in his ears, a sound that somehow felt both familiar and entirely new.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

at the end of the day, bakugou found himself walking down a very familiar hallway, telling himself it was only because this was the way he’d come in. why wouldn’t he leave the same way? his idiot friends were probably lost, trying to find their way out of the school from the testing site, so it only made sense to take this route.

right?

as he continued down towards the front entrance of the school, he just so happened to pass the infirmary.

he noticed two students exiting the room. one of them had a faint blush on his cheeks—probably a reaction to your quirk. bakugou’s mind flashed back to his first time being healed by recovery girl. even though she was an old lady, the awkwardness of the whole process still made him flush with embarrassment. he couldn't imagine how much worse it wouldve been if the healer had been someone like you someone younger.

just then, he remembered the scratch—no, more like a faint slash—on the right side of his forehead.

might as well get checked out while he was here, he reasoned. hed be cursing himself if that damn wound messed with his performance during his shift later. plus, if he was going to be dealing with more students tomorrow, he needed to be at his best.

with that excuse firmly in mind, bakugou took a deep breath and headed towards the infirmary, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened, though he figured it was just the tightness of the quirk nullifying bands around his wrists. it couldnt have anything to do with you.

he stepped in quietly, noticing how you were engrossed in paperwork, likely documenting all the students you’d treated that day. the room was filled with the soft rustling of papers, and the sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. bakugou stood at the doorframe for a moment, feeling like an idiot the longer he stood there. despite his intense glare, you seemed completely oblivious to his presence.

with an irritated huff, bakugou strode over to one of the infirmary beds and dropped himself onto it, the springs creaking under his weight. the sudden noise finally jolted you out of your focus. your eyes snapped up, widening in surprise, and bakugou smirked to himself when he saw your hand tighten around your pen, like you were ready to use it as a weapon against whoever dared to intrude.

“got hit,” he stated flatly, pointing at the cut on his forehead.

you raised an eyebrow, “oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes filled with a playful glint.

from you, his usual scowl deepening. “second, they made me go easy on those brats. ‘course they landed a hit. not like they could keep up with me.” he said, mimicking the instructors’ voices with exaggerated annoyance. “‘told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.”

he grumbled, still irked by the memory. he couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at him. he was totally against going easy on them; he knew firsthand that failure was crucial for getting stronger. it wasn’t about being a jerk—it was about giving them the chance to face their weaknesses and improve. he was pissed off that they were missing out on that important lesson. but he also knew that if he defied the rules, it would only make things worse for everyone. so, as much as it grated on him, he followed the damn rules.

as he watched you move closer to him, he noticed you were trying to hold back a smile, he also saw the glint of amusement in your eyes, which made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. while you inspected his forehead, he felt an odd vulnerability.

he felt your gaze scan his entire body, a mix of frustration and discomfort bubbling beneath the surface as your closeness stirred unsettling feelings. a strong heat rose at the back of his neck, and he tried to distract himself by focusing on the wall behind you. when your eyes finally landed on his wrists, you picked up one of his hands and examined it with even greater intensity. your shocked expression was unmistakable, and it was clear you couldn’t hide it.

“they slapped these on too,” he grumbled, gesturing to the heavy weights strapped to his ankles. he couldn't stop himself from trying to show off a little bit more, “said it was to ‘even the playing field.’ whatever that means.”

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. “they really didn’t want you going all out, huh?” you murmured, your tone both curious and sympathetic.

he huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me.”

he pointed to the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head trying to hint that he was expecting something. he remembered the conversation with his friends when they were going over the students quirks, someone had mentioned that you were like recovery girl or something, using a quirk that required a kiss to heal. he didn’t get why you had to be so soft about it, but he also didn’t want to look like a complete idiot and ask for it directly.

“what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.”

you stared at him with an odd look on your face. after a moment of silence, you muttered a quiet, “right,” before your lips brushed lightly against the cut on his wrist. the warmth of your touch was unexpectedly soothing, sending a strange flutter through his chest that he quickly shoved aside.

“all set!” you said softly, moving over to your desk to busy yourself with paperwork. he glanced at the mirror, checking the spot where the cut had been. satisfied, he started to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, irritation mingling with curiosity.

“oh, nothing,” you replied, “just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it’s hard to imagine.”

he grunted in response, feeling a rare twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. it was an unfamiliar sensation, and he didn’t know how to process it, which seemed to be a recurring theme in this room.

“don’t get used to it,” he warned, “next time, those brats won’t know what hit ‘em.”

you rolled your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. “try not to get hit again, dynamite,” you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. “don’t hold your breath.”

bakugou made his way down the halls toward the front of the building, a strange shift occurring within him as he thought about the odd sensations he’d experienced in your room. he’d always prided himself on being the toughest, most unbeatable guy around—someone who didn’t need anyone’s sympathy or affection. he certainly didn’t care for any of that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff.

but after you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and let out that soft laugh—just like the one he’d heard earlier, but this one had been for him—he felt an unfamiliar warmth. your playful teasing, the way your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze, and the gentle touch as you healed his cut all lingered in his mind. as he walked out the doors of ua, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might actually care about that ‘kind of crap.’

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

after that, he stopped by every day, always after the students were gone. he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about his frequent visits. he was only coming by because it was convenient and you were tolerable. plus, you just happened to be on his way out, so he figured he might as well check in to make sure you weren’t slacking off. with the kids getting roughed up more than usual because of him, it was his duty as a pro hero to ensure the school’s support staff could handle the extra strain.

they had reached the end of the week, marking the completion of the first half of finals. students would rest over the weekend to prepare, as next week the rest of the second-years and first-years would be taking their tests. after that, school would be out for winter break and the young pro-heros would get to go back to working full time.

today, he decided to check in and ensure the infirmary was fully stocked. it wouldn’t do for you to run out of supplies in the middle of finals. he couldn’t focus on his part if he knew the kids wouldn’t get the proper care they needed afterward. so he had to make sure you had everything you needed for the upcoming week.

he marched in with his usual scowl, pretending to inspect the shelves while you stared at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “do you need anything dynamite?”

“making sure youre all stocked up.” he grumbled, refusing to meet your gaze. “don’t need any of these brats whining because you’re out of bandages.”

“oh? you know, i’m perfectly capable of keeping things in order,” you teased, leaning back against the counter with that same cheeky grin that had been haunting his thoughts.

as if on cue, he’d suddenly remember a tiny scratch on his cheek today. they were always minor injuries—barely worth a second glance—but he made a point of showing them to you, as if they needed your immediate attention, always saying something like:

“got a cut on my finger. don’t need a fuss, just make it quick.”

“got a little nick on my palm, just need it wrapped up or whatever.”

“got a scratch here. honestly nothing, but i guess you should take a look.”

you always had something smart to say, today you went with, “oh, look at that,”

after his second visit, your tone began to shift from actual concern to a mix of amusement and feigned concern. “you’ve got a little scrape. better let me take care of that.”

he’d huff, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “just get it over with.”

during his second, third, and fourth visits, you tended to his injury with a regular old first aid kit. you explained that it was better to let such a minor cut heal on its own, emphasizing how small the injury was—something that only seemed to irritate bakugou. you wanted to ensure that his body didn’t become dependent on a quirk for healing, even for minor wounds.

bakugou didn’t argue or ask for any extra attention. he was determined to stay above such petty requests. however, he found that he didn’t mind the touch of your hands, which were gentle and precise. each time your fingers brushed against his skin, he felt a small, unwelcome jolt of warmth, though he never let it show.

but today was different.

today felt like the first day all over again.

he hoped you couldn’t see or feel the heat radiating from him as you leaned in and teased, “so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he instantly felt the soothing effects of your quirk.

“told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice tinged with a forced irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.”

as you leaned back, your gaze lingered on him with an unreadable expression. the soft, ambient light of the infirmary cast a gentle glow around you, accentuating the warmth of your smile. despite the cool air, he felt an intense heat creep to his neck, betraying his attempt to stay composed.

bakugou turned his face slightly, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding. mumbling a quick thanks, he tried to regain his composure, his movements slightly stiff as he prepared to leave.

he walks out of your office thinking about how he wished he would have let his friends talk about the new nurse at ua.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou nearly missed his visit today. it was the last day of finals, and his friends were eager to celebrate the end of the grueling two weeks of work. they wanted to head to a café around the corner—a favorite spot from their school days. bakugou had initially planned to meet them there, but they insisted on walking together. this was why he now found himself angrily trudging through the school halls, his frown evident as he moved.

when they stepped out of the school, bakugou abruptly stopped in his tracks. he quickly patted himself down, feigning realization that he had forgotten his phone. he put on a show, acting as if he was in a rush to retrieve it.

after a brief and hurried detour, he found his way back to the infirmary, dashing through the corridors with the same urgency as a student late to class. he slowed down every time he passed an open door, then sped up again, repeating this process until he finally arrived back at the infirmary.

his frustration was already high from the charade, but it reached new heights when he saw you and midoriya together, seemingly engrossed in each other. you were sitting close, helping midoriya upload the practical grades onto a computer. the sight of you two so close, with midoriya’s easy smile and your focused attention, only intensified bakugou's irritation.

he slumped onto one of the infirmary beds, his posture stiff and impatient. he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting for you and midoriya to finish what he perceived as an overly affectionate interaction. he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that flared up every time he glanced at the two of you, his mood darkening with each passing moment.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” bakugou quickly turned to his childhood friend, his eyes narrowed and his palms began to warm up. but just before he could bark out a reply, you had cut in, “what?”

bakugou’s patience snapped as midoriya’s smirk widened. midoriyas voice dropped to a teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

the words hit bakugou like a punch to the gut. he felt his anger flare, his fists clenching at his sides. he shot to his feet, his voice coming out in a low, threatening growl. “scram, nerd. didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender as he took a step back. he thanked you once more before giving bakugou a teasing smile and walking out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

bakugou’s irritation simmered as he watched midoriya leave. the heat in his cheeks was a mix of embarrassment and anger. he slumped back onto the infirmary bed, trying to shake off the tension that midoriya’s comments had stirred up inside him.

you turned your full attention to him, a small laugh escaping your lips. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over with a calm, collected grace. the way you moved, so assured and at ease, only seemed to fuel his inner turmoil.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, but it was clear there was no bite to his words. he was trying to mask the red creeping up his neck. he was determined not to let you see how much midoriya’s comments had affected him.

and its like the universe was against him because you couldn’t resist one last tease before getting down to business. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you’re after?” the playful glint in your eye made his facade crumble a little bit.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, though he couldn’t entirely hide the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sat back down. your teasing, while annoying, had a way of making him feel strangely at ease.

he decided the universe was on his side again when you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his shoulder. bakugou watched you intently, his irritation slowly melting away under the soothing warmth of your quirk. despite his gruff exterior, he always found that during these moments with you, whether you used your quirk or not, the constant pressure he carried with him all day would finally start to ease up.

as you gently pulled back, your eyes locked with his. today was the last day he’d have the chance to drop by like this. over the past two weeks, these visits had become a regular part of his routine. lately, he’d started coming in the mornings and in between his scheduled practicals, under the guise of “checking up on the students he roughed up.”

this would be the final time he could casually walk in and share these small, meaningful moments with you. the thought of missing these interactions left him more unsettled than he wanted to admit. before you could say anything, he stood up abruptly, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. without another word, he turned and made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy with unspoken feelings.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop pause. he turned to face you, the hint of curiosity in his eyes.

you offered him a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “be careful out there. won’t be around to patch all those little scrapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his scowl softening slightly as he took in your words. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of your little office for the last time.

the door clicked shut behind him, and as he moved down the hallways, now deserted with all the students gone, he realized that the mess of emotions inside him wasn’t from any damn quirk. on top of that, he couldn’t shake the relentless feeling that he’d regret leaving you behind without finally tell you how he really felt, even if it still confused the hell out of him.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

he was right.

bakugou walked out of his agency with his usual scowl, but his mind was elsewhere. instead of focusing on his next mission, he replayed every interaction between the two of you—how you treated the students and tended to his cuts and bruises. he thought about your caring nature, your teasing attitude, and how your presence seemed to calm him despite his usual irritation. admitting that he missed you or cared more than he let on was still out of the question; he wasn’t ready for that. which is why he found himself in a state of despair.

but it wouldn’t hurt to see you again, he reasoned. after all, he had a sizable cut on his hand from a fierce battle earlier that day—a paper cut from adding more paper to the printer. he blasted his way back to ua high school, his heart pounding for some odd reason.

he rushed up the front steps, frustration barely contained as he shook the door handles, convinced they were just stiff from the cold. as he stepped back, preparing to blast the doors open, he noticed a small sign that read, "winter break has begun—ua is closed." his face fell, disappointment clear in his features.

he completely forgot.

with a muttered string of curses, he turned around, heading back to his agency, his mood darkened by a sense of missed opportunity and lingering irritation.

that same night he nearly looked you up on social media, but decided he was above that–although he had no problems getting purposely ‘injured’ just to see you again. he decided that he needed to talk to you in person. he was not gonna message you on social media like some extra.

though it was painful to admit, bakugou decided midoriya was his best bet for advice, you two were colleagues after all. the two had gone through a rough patch during middle school and their first year of high school, but they’d grown closer after the war. their relationship was like that of brothers, marked by teasing and occasional verbal jabs. and just as midoriya had influenced bakugou, bakugou had also rubbed off on midoriya.

“holy shit, just admit it! admit you like her,” midoriya whisper-yelled, his voice trembling with exasperation as he buried his head in his hands. he’d spent the past hour trying to break through bakugou’s walls, desperately attempting to get his childhood best friend to confess his obvious feelings for you.

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” bakugou replied with a dismissive shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. he crossed his arms over his chest, feigning indifference, but his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest. the muscles in his jaw tensed as he tried to maintain his composure, but even he could feel the cracks forming in his facade.

midoriya looked up, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “you’ve got to be kidding me, katsuki. you dragged me out here to talk about her. it’s written all over your damn face.”

bakugou’s eyes flickered with irritation as he let out a low growl, his voice rising slightly in response to midoriya’s persistence. “seriously, what’s your deal with this lovey-dovey crap?” he snapped, leaning forward so forcefully that the chair creaked under the pressure.

“i came here to hang out, not to spill my guts about feelings, and the only thing written on my face is— ”he paused for dramatic effect, pointing to his left cheek,“—number,” he pointed to his right cheek, as if marking the spot. “—one!” his voice rose in defiant emphasis, though the strained expression on his face revealed just how much he was trying to keep his composure.

midoriya’s gaze sharpened, a mix of irritation and amusement dancing in his eyes. but before he could respond, bakugou cut him off sharply.

“i also didn’t drag you anywhere!” bakugou snapped, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “you came here on your own.”

“so—” midoriya began, but bakugou was already back on the defensive.

“but if you’re so damn desperate to talk about her, then go ahead. i won’t stop you” bakugou interrupted, his voice laced with challenge as he glared at midoriya.

midoriya couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that? you’re just making it more obvious that you care.”

bakugou’s expression suddenly shifted. He stared at his friend, frustration and resignation mixing in his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he’d finally decided to let his guard down. “damn it, fine,” he muttered, the words coming out in a mix of defeat and reluctant honesty. “i thought it was just her quirk at first—you know how it works, right? you had that old lady’s lips on you all the time. figured i was just feeling awkward from the situation.”

midoriya’s eyes widened in surprise. “wait, her quirk—”

“hold on, i’m not done,” bakugou snapped, cutting him off abruptly. “after that, she started taking care of me without using her quirk. like, really looking out for me, making sure i was okay. that’s when i figured out it wasn’t just her damn power messing with my head. it’s her. it’s the way she talks, the way she looks at me, the way she gives a damn about people. the more we talked over the past two weeks, the more i realized…i actually give a shit.”

midoriya’s mouth opened, but he was interrupted by both of their phones buzzing with an urgent alert. they both glanced at their screens, and midoriya’s expression shifted to one of concern.

“shit,” bakugou muttered, grabbing his jacket. “they need all pros in the area.”

midoriya nodded, his face set in determination. “we’ve gotta go. now.”

“yeah,” bakugou agreed, already heading for the door. “we’ll talk later.”

they both slammed some cash down onto the table before rushing out of the café, the urgency of the situation taking over. bakugou's thoughts about you and the emotional revelations would have to wait; their immediate priority was to respond to the villain attack and protect the city.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou limped through the bustling emergency room, his face twisted in pain and frustration. he tried to ignore the nagging sense of vulnerability that came with his injuries. that stupid villain had managed to pull a fast one on him, landing a nasty hit before bakugou practically blew him to bits.

midoriya, being his usual self, had quickly suggested that the best treatment for bakugou’s injuries was at the very hospital where you volunteered, an effort to have you guys see each other again. normally, bakugou would have avoided causing a scene in a hospital, preferring to get patched up at his agency instead. however, midoriya’s persistence and his offer to handle all the paperwork made it difficult for bakugou to refuse.

he sighed as he let kaminari, sero, and kirishima come along with him, clearly annoyed but determined not to let midoriya’s plan fall through. as he trudged along.

the chaotic hustle and bustle of the emergency room was in full swing, a symphony of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and urgent conversations. nurses and doctors moved briskly, attending to patients with practiced efficiency. bakugou’s irritation only grew as he was directed to sit and wait for some doctor anderson.

“i’ll wait,” bakugou growled, clenching his jaw. “i want the best of the best. that means ms. y/l/n.”

the medical staff exchanged uncertain glances, trying to balance their duties with the stubborn hero’s demands. “she’s just a volunteer here, and she already has quite the list,” one of the doctors said, attempting to reason with him. “we really need to—”

bakugou’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you questioning me?!” he snarled, his voice thundering through the corridor, shaking the air with its intensity. the staff, taken aback by his explosive temper, quickly scrambled to comply, knowing better than to argue with him.

with a flurry of activity, they stabilized bakugou’s injuries as best as they could under the circumstances. the urgency in their movements betrayed their anxiety over his demands, but they managed to prepare him for your arrival.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

you moved quickly through the halls of the hospital, your heart racing as you had just received word that pro hero dynamite had just been admitted, and had demanded you to be the one to help him. you had a aching feeling that it wasn't for another scape. you spotted a group of familiar faces clustered together just outside bakugou's room. kirishima, kaminari, and sero were chatting animatedly, their conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and occasional glances toward the door which gave you a small sense of relief.

“seriously, this is just karma,” kaminari said with a thoughtful frown, peering up at the ceiling as if searching for divine answers. “he was coming to recovery girl for every little scrape, it was so obvious he was trying to get an excuse to see her.”

“yeah,” sero chimed in with a smirk, “ bet you he was milking those tiny injuries just to get a little attention from her.”

kirishima laughed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “he probably thought if he kept getting those little nicks and bruises, he’d get a chance to talk to her more. pretty clever, but also so very unmanly.”

their laughter and commentary were a strange mix of sympathy and light-hearted teasing. you found yourself frozen in place, hiding just out of sight as you overheard their conversation. the realization hit you hard—bakugou’s frequent visits and seemingly pointless injuries had been his way of getting close to you.

swallowing hard, you took a deep breath before making your way toward bakugou's room. you quickly greeted the pro heroes offering polite nods before pushing through the door. your hands began to sweat, nerves getting the better of you as you creaked the door open.

inside, you let out a sigh of relief mixed with concern. his condition wasn't as dire as you’d feared, but it wasn’t exactly good either. instead of the usual tiny cuts and small bruises you were accustomed to, bakugou had a deep, painful-looking gash on his side. it looked serious, though you could tell he was trying to downplay it.

he turned his head slowly toward you, his eyes barely open but trying to focus. his usual fiery glare was subdued, replaced by an almost vulnerable expression. “hello, dynamite,” you greeted him gently, a playful hint in your voice despite the situation. “thought i told you to be careful.”

bakugou's lips twitched into a weak, smile. “told me not to get any small ones, think i listened pretty well,” he joked, though his voice was strained.

you gave him a small smile, but it quickly faded as you noticed his vitals starting to waver on the monitor beside him. the steady beep of the heart rate was becoming irregular, and your concern spiked.

without hesitation, you activated your quirk, letting your hand hover over the deep cut on his side. the air seemed to crackle with energy as you focused intently, channeling your power to heal the wound. bakugou watched you with growing shock, his eyes widening as the extent of your quirk became apparent.

as you worked, you kept your focus on the healing process, determined to stabilize him. his expression of surprise and awe. despite the situation, you felt a pang of satisfaction seeing the wound slowly mend under your touch.

the room was filled with the quiet hum of medical equipment and the occasional murmurs from the pro heroes outside. you could feel the weight of the room’s concern, but you pushed through, driven by the need to get bakugou patched up.

finally, after a few tense moments, the monitor’s beeping steadied and bakugou’s breathing became more even. you pulled your hand away, your energy slightly drained but relieved that the worst was over for now.

bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and despite the pain, there was something almost tender in his eyes. “thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you offered him an awkward smile. “just doing my job.”

the two of you sat in an awkward silence, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him while you stared at the sheets. you got up, slowly preparing to say goodbye.

“so... your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s, huh?” bakugou blinked slowly at you, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

you nodded, your expression growing more serious. “yeah, it’s not.”

bakugou’s expression hardened, his voice sharp. “why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t think i’d have to see you again,” you admitted, frustration creeping into your voice. “and you’re not exactly the saint you pretend to be, either,” you added, your face flushing as you turned towards the window.

bakugou’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning slightly pink. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you kept coming to me with those tiny scratches. you never really needed my help; you just wanted an excuse to see me.”

“are you out of your damn mind?!” bakugou roared, his face flushing deeper with anger. “i was using my resources to stay in top shape, alright? nothing more, nothing less!”

“top shape—who the hell talks like that?!” now you were a dark shade of crimson, your face blazing as the argument escalated. “bakugou, just admit it already!”

“there’s nothing to admit! how about you admit you were just waiting for an excuse to kiss me, you perv?!” bakugou’s voice rose, his face now a deeper red, frustration clear in his eyes.

“what?! don’t try to twist this around on me, you little shit! you’re the one who kept stopping by for the most ridiculous reasons—half the time, i didn’t even see anything wrong!” you shot back, your anger matching his.

“and yet you still acted like you wanted to kiss me, you damn freak!” bakugou’s face was now a deep shade of red, his embarrassment and anger mixing in equal measure.

“what?! i’m not a freak! you’re the freak! you just barged into my office and pointed at your cheek. who assumes something like that? if anything, you’re the perv for thinking healers just go around kissing people!” you exclaimed, your frustration peaking.

“that shitty little short circuit said you were the new recovery girl??” bakugou snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“i am? doesn’t mean i have the same quirk,” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

“well, you should’ve just said that’s not how your quirk works from the start!” bakugou growled, his tone defensive, his face still flushed.

“and you wouldn’t have blown me to bits. you were so damn confident when you just pointed at that tiny little scratch! i was just trying to protect myself!” you said, your voice rising in frustration as you turned away from him.

“oh, you’re really pushing it—” bakugou began, his anger barely contained, but he was cut off by kirishima barging into the room.

“sorry, but you’re both being unmanly right now.”

“stay out of this!” you both yelled, turning to the pro. he simply sighed and walked out, shaking his head and muttering about how things were just getting more unmanly by the minute.

there was a long pause as both of you sat in the silence, the weight of the room’s emotions settling around you. the air felt thick, charged with the intensity of the argument and the vulnerability that had emerged. bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more introspective. his shoulders relaxed, and his voice took on a quieter, more tentative tone. “didn’t really need your help then,” he said, the words laced with an awkward honesty that caught you off guard.

“i know,” you replied taking a seat at the edge of his bed, your own embarrassment matching his. you took a deep breath, feeling the fight drain from you as the truth settled between you. the tension in the room shifted, morphing from anger to something more fragile and uncertain.

another moment of silence stretched between you, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“bakugou,” you started softly, searching for the right words. your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him. “i like you,” you confessed, the words slipping out with a mix of shyness and sincerity.

bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his trademark scowl. “had a feeling,” he grumbled, his tone a blend of annoyance and something softer beneath. “took you long enough to admit it.”

before he could react further, you reached out and gave him a playful yet firm slap on the arm. your face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “what was that for?” bakugou exclaimed, rubbing the spot where you’d hit him, his expression a mix of genuine confusion and mild irritation.

“don’t act all smug,” you shot back, your voice laced with indignation. you’d just confessed your feelings, and instead of offering a heartfelt response, the idiot in front of you had simply said he knew. it was like he didn’t even grasp the weight of what you’d said.

bakugou’s scowl faltered as he looked at you with an unusual hint of vulnerability. his gaze dropped to the floor, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. it was clear he was struggling; he wasn’t used to expressing his feelings or dealing with someone else’s, and it showed.

when he finally looked back up, his expression was serious, but you noticed a rare softness in his eyes. “alright,” he said, his voice low and gruff but edged with an awkward sincerity that seemed out of character for him. “i like you too. a lot. more than i probably should.”

as you both sat there, basking in the newfound honesty between you, the tension began to melt away. bakugou let out a deep breath, and you could see the muscles in his shoulders relax. a comfortable silence settled in, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. for now, there was no need to rush or worry about what came next. you simply savored the moment, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment.

after a few moments, bakugou shifted slightly, a small, thoughtful look crossing his face. he wasn’t sure if it was the pain meds or the weight of your confession, but he was starting to feel a bit bolder than he had been. breaking the comfortable silence, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “ya know,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of his usual gruffness, “i’m still in a lot of pain.” he paused, watching you, as if he was testing the waters for your reaction.

you looked at him, puzzled. “what are you getting at?”

“well, we don’t know for sure if your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s,” he said, leaning in slightly. “ worked pretty well last time.”

you tilted your head, catching on to his subtle hint. “oh, so you’re suggesting that my quirk might work better if i used it the way recovery girl does? you know, with a bit more—” you paused for dramatic effect, “—personal touch?”

a soft smile spread across his face, his gaze locking onto yours. “something like that.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “well, if that’s the case, i’d better go check on your friends then. they might need some help too, after all.”

before you could move, bakugou’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. his eyes softened slightly, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in his gaze. “hey, don’t be a smartass,” he said, pulling you closer. “just... stay here for a minute.”

your heart skipped a beat as you were drawn into his personal space. you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. his expression was earnest now, the playful facade giving way to something more genuine.

“bakugou?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in slightly.

you could feel the tension between you, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. his gaze was fixed on your lips, his intention clear even if unspoken. the moment hung in the air, charged with the possibility of a kiss.

finally, with a playful smirk, you tilted your head and teased, “i suppose if you’re still in pain, i should take care of that.”

before you could react, bakugou closed the distance between you. his lips brushed against yours in a warm, gentle kiss. it was soft and sweet, carrying a surprising tenderness that left both of you breathless. the kiss was fleeting but filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. as he pulled away, his smirk was replaced by a genuine, tender look. his eyes searched yours, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted with his usual fiery demeanor.

you blinked, still processing the kiss. with a shy smile, you asked, “feel better?”

he quickly buried his face in the side of your neck, causing you to giggle. "yeah," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel him slowly start to smile against your skin, "better."

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tagslist: @kirikiss @ah-mya @terralupa @purplebirdds @semiji ᐢᗜᐢ

♡ a/n: haha ember refusing to die? yk whos embers died… also haha reach out????! also sorry for the ooc at the end. i just needed that no lie... :D also part of me wants to do a part 3?? but just a bunch of random drabbles of you both getting together and your relationship 🤗

꩜ fr a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT POSTS LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS AMAZING <3 LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! I PUMPPPPED THIS CHAPTER OUT AS MY WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #dynamight #bakugo katsuki #kacchan

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hanquokka-mochimochicheeks · 10 days ago

Text

♡ First Love ♡

Han Jisung x (f) reader Word count: 2.3k Genre: first love, smut, highschool, one-shot

Summary: You meet a highschool boy (Han), who has been secretly admiring you from afar. Your unexpected encounter leads to a growing connection and friendship that soon deepens and turns into something more.

warnings: marking ⋆ creampie ⋆ inexperienced han and inexperienced reader ⋆ oral (f. receiving) ⋆ multiple orgasms ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ squirting ⋆

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's nearing the end of summer but for some reason the heat is the worst it's been all week. A drop of sweat drips down your neck as you chat away with your friend on the grass. There's a river that runs through your high school and the shade of the trees along it is the only escape from the scorching heat during lunch break.

You're telling your friend all about the good looking boy you sat across from on the bus the other day and gushing over how he looked while your friend listens with sympathy.

"He had this wavy, chocolate coloured hair that fell in front of his glasses when he was reading. I saw him flick his head to move it and his face was so pretty I thought my soul was going to leave my body when I saw it!", you say. "I get you like looking at cute boys and admiring them, but how about you actually try talking to one?", your friend teases. "Maybe ~", you reply unconvincingly. "And then", you continue, blushing as you recall it, "he flicked his hair away again and we made eye contact!" Your friend rolls her eyes and replies, "In all seriousness, you need a boyfriend or at least some more interaction with the male population."

You know she's right; you don't have any male friends or in fact anyone of the opposite sex in your life, apart from family and teachers. Attending an all girls school makes making male friends harder than you had expected.

While all this was going on, you yet again fail to notice a certain chocolate-haired boy watching you from across the river for the fourth day in a row. Han Jisung watches you talking with your friend from the opposite side of the river through the trees. Perched on a rock with a book in his lap he makes sure not to miss any of your movements and expressions as he admires you from afar.

Han is in no way a model student but he has impressive grades despite that. He seems like a quiet nerd but in reality he's carefree and loud. He does whatever he feels like doing and skips school often.

His heart and mind were somehow captivated the first time he saw you as he was wandering by the river. The way your long wavy hair dangled around your shoulders, how your smile seemed to radiate all the way to where he stood and how your elegant movements and your silly ones mesmerized him was beyond his understanding. He's desperate to speak to you at least once, even just to hear how your voice sounds.

As the bell rings and you're getting ready leave your class on the second floor, you spot someone through the window. Looking down at the gap in between the trees, you see a person sitting on a rock and leaning on a thin branch with their head sagged downwards on an angle towards the water. Thinking they might fall in, you rush down the stairs past all the people and out the building.

Running down the path and across the bridge towards the person as your bag thumps against your side, you realize he's falling asleep. Worried you'll startle him, you make your way behind the rock he's on. He looks familiar but you can't tell where you've seen him before, especially since you're looking at his back.

You reach out to grab his shoulders to make him lean away from the water. He suddenly jolts forward in surprise at the touch, causing you both to lose your balance and fall into the river. The cool water gives you a shock and you struggle to lift yourself out. Even though the river is only thigh deep your whole uniform is soaked.

You almost forget about the person you just failed to save when you hear splashing and cursing coming from behind you. A chill runs through your spine as a strong grip takes hold of your wrist. Your throat closes in fear as he says, "Who the hell are you and how did we both end up in this damn river?" "You were nodding off and I tried to stop you from falling in but I didn't expect you to pull away like that...", you trail off at how utterly stupid you sound. Expecting to hear an exasperated response, you raise your head upwards to see a look of complete shock painted on his face.

Now you properly see his face, you notice how insanely handsome he is; large eyes, perfect bone structure, a toned body and in particular you notice his chocolate coloured hair that is dripping with river water.

Realizing who you are, the one and only girl Han had been obsessing over for the past few days, he composes himself and lets go of your wrist. "Thanks for trying to help, I guess," he says, laughing awkwardly, "and I'm sorry if I scared you.

Perhaps it's because of the relief that he's not mad or just the strange and hopeless situation you're in or how cute he looks - all wet and sad quokka like - you let out a laugh. Han malfunctions for a second when he hears your laugh for the first time and then tentatively asks, "Are you free now?" "Well I can't exactly walk home like this", you say gesturing to your wet see-through shirt. Han feels his face heat up as he looks at your chest and quickly averts his gaze.

You end up talking for a while as you sit next to each other in the sunshine facing the river. "That's right!", you exclaim, "I saw you on the bus the other day ~ I knew you looked familiar!" Han looks at you in surprise as his thoughts slip out and he says, "but I definitely would've remembered seeing you-" "You were completely in your own world; reading and listening to music", you reply. "O-oh that makes sense", Han splutters, realizing you heard him. Han didn't know what was wrong with him; he's never this flustered or the blushing mess he's become.

"Would you like to come over to my place to dry off and I can give you a change of clothes?", Han suggests and adds, "it's just down the road." By this time your clothes were mostly dry but a change of clothes sounded nice; his clothes. "That sounds perfect," you say, your mind a scramble of relief and anticipation.

Soon enough you're in his room getting changed into one of his t-shirts. You've removed your soggy bra and underwear leaving you in only your skirt that had luckily dried.

Even the thought of you changing in his room into one of his t-shirts was too much to handle and he only just noticed a bulge that appeared under his sweatpants.

You open the door and when Han sees you he's speechless. You do a quick spin and ask him how you look but all he can do is avoid eye contact to stay calm. He tries to erase the image in his mind of when your skirt lifted as you spun around.

Breaking the silence, Han offers to braid your hair as it's become a bit of a mess since falling in the river. Gratefully, you accept and sit yourself down on his bed, turning away from him.

You flinch slightly as his fingers graze your neck while he's dividing the hair. You can feel his soft breath from behind and the warmth of his body even though the room is already hot.

"All done!", he says a little proudly. "How about I give you a massage as a thank you then?", you suggest. "Really?", Han says in disbelief. "Lie down on your stomach", you tell him. Next, you're sitting on top of him and massaging down his back. His shoulders are wide and muscular and his waist is incredibly thin. You giggle as the thought of his back feeling like a big muscly marshmallow pops into your head.

Han's sure it feels incredible but all he can focus on is the discomfort of his dick pushing into his stomach from below. His body is still tense under your touch despite your efforts to help him relax. As you find your hands focusing too much on massaging the sides of his slim waist, you scold yourself internally. "Now turn over", you command. Han panics but it's too late. You've already pushed him over in his jelly like state. Your eyes widen as you pause to look at the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Can I... touch it?", you ponder out loud. But before Han can answer you're pulling the waistband down and taking in the view. It's long and curved with a couple of veins running down the sides. Han groans and you stare down at him in fascination before lightly holding his dick and tasting the precum off your fingers. Han almost cums at the sight and muffles a moan. You begin stroking his dick and Han covers his face with his hand and lets out another pretty moan. The tip is pink and dripping with precum as you continue exploring his dick with your hands. He's a flustered wreck below you and you can't help but wish you could ingrain the sight into your brain. He starts trembling and repeatedly moans your name as his dick twitches and your hands are covered in his cum.

"Shit, I'm so sorry it's just you were too pretty and it felt so good and I might be in love with you and I've been thinking about you way too much and and-", he says as you cut him off with a quick kiss. Not how you expected your first kiss to turn out but it was still perfect somehow.

"I might be in love with you too", you confess, feeling a little overwhelmed but happy. Han looked dazed but excited at the reply to his sudden confession.

He swept you into a hug and kissed you until you were both gasping for air. He kept kissing down your neck with his soft puffy lips, giving you little shivers of pleasure until he reached your collar bone where he sucked hard at your skin making you gasp as he left red marks. He began playing with your breasts before focusing on your nipples, licking and twisting them. He kept his intense gaze fixed on your face so he could catch all your expressions to how he was making you feel.

You gasp in surprise as his hot wet tongue starts licking inside and around your ear making you flinch at the sensitivity. He continues kissing all the way down your stomach and your inner thighs with such tenderness and care you almost feel bad about the slightly rough handjob you gave him earlier.

Han holds you knees apart as he studies your dripping pussy and tries blowing on it. He marvels as you flinch and clench around nothing. "At least our curiosity goes both ways", you think to yourself.

Covering his fingers in your juices he gently tries rubbing your clit and you arch your back at the feeling. Taking this as a good sign he begins licking it and inserts his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. His fingers are long and slightly rough as he strokes your g-spot and he begins sucking on your clit. Too much was happening at once for your brain to take in and all of sudden you're squirting on his beautiful face but he's too out of it to care as if he's drunk on your pussy.

You think you must've blacked out at some point and as soon as you're back you're cumming again. "Awh this time you didn't squirt baby", whines Han as if he just lost a videogame. "We'll have to try again okay?", he says. You're in too much of a daze to reply so you just nod.

His fingers speed up and his tongue moves faster before lightly nibbling on your clit. Your insides spasm as the clear liquid shoots out again and you begin seeing stars. Your brain's empty apart from Han and you couldn't focus on shit even if you wanted to.

You're so overstimulated and it all feels like a dream but then you hear Han say, "Come on baby I know you can take more than this." And he's not wrong; you're craving more but whether you can handle it is a different story.

He turns you over like a ragdoll onto your stomach and raises your hips up to his. The fucked out look on your face is short circuiting his brain and all at once he's inside you.

You feel him twitching deep inside you. His hand presses down on the bulge on your stomach making you clench even more around him. He starts relentlessly pushing in and out of you the same way you go in and out of consciousness. The pleasure's driving you both insane and soon you're cumming and trembling around his cock. He doesn't slow down until he's cumming too and the hot liquid is coating your insides and leaving you shaking and whimpering with your eyes rolled back as you clutch the bedsheets.

"Are you okay baby?", Han asks, his eyes big and full of concern. It's already morning and you're still in Han's bed. You try getting up before realizing how weak you are, never mind the rest of Han's cum pouring out between your thighs. "Han, I'm not too sure I can move ~ ", you complain, more surprised than mad. It's hard to be mad when your boyfriend wakes you up looking this cute.

You reach for your phone smiling and message your friend 'I got a boyfriend (^///^)'.

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