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softevnstan · 1 year

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(nsfw) random prompt event generator for bucky!!

Bucky and Y/N going back to one or the other's house after a date, where they eventually end up dry-humping on the couch. Y/N only intends this as foreplay, but Bucky is already getting overwhelmed. Y/N finds this amusing and endearing, leaning close to whisper something teasingly into Bucky's ear. It turns out that Bucky is more excited than Y/N thought, and hits orgasm without any further stimulation, to the surprise of Y/N and the embarrassment of Bucky. What happens next?

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral! reader

summary. After a date night out with Bucky as you explore your new relationship, you unintentionally wind up taking your makeout session a little too far. Quickly you learn it's been far too long since Bucky has had a partner.

warnings. SMUT - minors DNI. kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, size difference, beefy bucky, dry humping, masturbation (bucky and you), implied/referenced trauma, reader has v but still gender neutral. p with plot, recovering!bucky barnes (half-way).

a.n. ok, i have other things to write and originally i was gonna let this wait... until i read the prompt again and saw this as an opportunity for some mild bottom/fluffy bucky. (bucky is a bottom you can't change my mind, but i'll write top for you all i promise) starts a little fluffy at first because idk how to not write some sort of context to situations, and bucky is still in recovery reasonably so

w.c. 7.6k howdidthishappen

Your date with Bucky exceeded your expectations. Wary that things would potentially be a little rough around the edges while the soldier was still trying to put himself back together, you were pleasantly surprised when he picked you up at your apartment with a bouquet of flowers - specifically an interesting combination of sunflowers and roses. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you flowers, and after running them inside so as to not ruin them by taking them on the trip, Bucky held your hand all the way to his motorcycle and helped you settle comfortably before embarking on the evening together. No awkward pauses or tense, heavy moments with Bucky; It was sweet and a dream come true that you didn’t even know you’d had.

He’d surprised you on where you both were going initially. Blindly trusting Bucky with wherever he chose your date location, he decided that the Art Museum was the safest choice. Dinners could be awkward - what if you don’t like the way someone chews their food? Movies hardly left time to actually get to know one another, instead just sitting in the dark with occasional spared glances. Anything too physical could be exerting and hinder you from another date with Bucky. So after indecisively pondering, Bucky had chosen that an art exhibit was the best way to go.

You loved it.

So many classic paintings and countless mediums of art filled the halls as you two strode hand in hand. Bucky was on the quieter side, but not enough to deter you. He’d smile and watch the twinkle in your eyes when you both came across a particularly marvelous work of art that you loved. Bucky had listened smittenly as you gushed about the way some pieces of art made you feel or the message you interpreted behind it all. Eventually, Bucky had begun to open up throughout the night to do the same. What felt like hours of enriched conversation and two people simply being in the moment.

Sometimes people don’t need candles and rose petals, sometimes people just need someone to talk to and feel just as down to earth with.

Unfortunately, neither of you had finished going through the whole museum together in one sitting.

Bucky had used that as the opportunity to salvage the situation; “I guess that means we’ll just have to come back together.” He’d said fondly when you both stopped at the mini-cafe built in the museum before you both left.

Instead of letting the date die down when the museum began closing for the night, you offered to bring the party back to your apartment instead. Tempting Bucky with a bottle of wine sitting in your kitchen so you two could just spend some more time together, he didn’t need too much convincing. Any excuse to stay close to you, to steal some of your time just a little longer before returning to his dull apartment.

‘How could I say no to you, doll?’ He had said, and you’d beamed at the small victory.

Truly, you hadn’t meant for it to end up where it was (not that you were complaining). When you asked Bucky to come into your apartment building, when you’d walked together hand in hand, you didn’t think you’d wind up like this. But somewhere between being plastered against Bucky’s backside and having the privilege to let your hands wander and explore tight leather hiding thick arms or the adrenaline of feeling the wind whipping in your hair, you’d started to become insatiable on the trip back.

Bucky had this way with you that made you feel like a teenager in love all over again.

Sure, he was quiet, but he was misunderstood. Soft and sweet, he had a compassionate heart and an intelligent mind, the gentle giant.

It’d taken some time to help Bucky bring down those walls initially - countless weeks you’d spent just trying to be his friend before he finally caved and agreed. He was a private person, you learned, but once peeling back all the layers, Bucky was amazing and worth all the work that went into opening him up. Creative and smart, a book-lover and funny, he was gentle and tender and emotional in every way that a man could be if they let themselves. He wasn’t afraid to be honest, but was instead afraid to voice that too loud. He wasn’t afraid to be emotional or vulnerable with those he trusted - not the unfeeling machine that so many had made him out to be. Bucky had simply needed someone who understood him - or was willing to if nothing else.

Once you’d gotten past all of it, all of the rough nights and moody days, it was worth it. You’d watched Bucky become something he never was before…

He was the one who had taken your relationship a step further.

Tentatively and timidly, might you add. Always endearing. He’d been anxious asking you to come out with him - as though he’d been fighting with himself for a long while on whether or not he should even ask. When he finally called you and asked if you’d like to go out on a date with him tonight - yes, he’d used date - you’d been elated.

And sure, you were moving a little too fast at that moment, but life is short and he’s already on seventy years of borrowed time. Bucky deserves to be loved.

Warm hand had rubbed up the length of Bucky’s bicep, and you gave his shoulder a squeeze when getting off of his motorcycle with a teasing glint in your eyes.

When he walked with you into the building, you hugged his left arm to your side - refusing for any additional space to come between the both of you as you prattled on about 'Birthday', by Dorothea Tanning and how you interpreted it as the door into the imagination, and Bucky was busy trying to remember which painting it was you were talking about - it was 'the winged scared cat-creature on the floor' that rejogged his memory.

Bucky was just happy you clung so easily to the cold and hard metal of his vibranium arm as if it were his own.

Turning into your hall, you’d begun to pull Bucky by the arm. Turning on your heel and offering him a smitten smile when you tugged him closer to your body in a backward walk. His eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile, his smile wide and showing off pretty white teeth. Even the sheepish duck of his head was precious when you led him into your apartment, finally excited to have time where it could be just you and Bucky without prying eyes.

"If you were eager to get home, you could've just said so," Bucky teased you, and you gave a playful smirk in response.

"M'not, I'm just excited to finally be alone with you." you'd cooed, attempting to make the words seductive but honestly they came more sentimental than anything.

The door gave way behind you when you twisted the knob with your one hand, the other still clutching to Bucky's sleeve. It didn't give Bucky a chance to respond to your retort when you tugged him right on into your apartment. Instead, it earned a chuckle that snapped into a gasp with your pull.

It was when that door shut that something came over you. Tucked into your own little corner of the world, you didn’t fear overwhelming Bucky with affection that made him uncomfortable. No worries about people gawking and making him feel out of place (or him being afraid of gawking, really).

When you both were just past the threshold of your apartment, you turned and used your foot to push the door shut. Fingers sliding up Bucky's arm, you used the moment to grab the lapels of his leather coat and step back - coming flush with the door and dragging Bucky right on into your tight space.

Hardly giving him a chance to protest. Wide cobalt eyes study you when you both are finally still, Bucky's hands hovering a little uselessly briefly and while shocked, still pleasantly surprised by your bravery.

"Someone is a little impatient," Bucky comments, expression softening. "Not impatient, just excited." You defend with a loving smile. "I could've sworn there was a bottle of wine mentioned..." Bucky trails. "Can you even get intoxicated?" You rhetorically question with a curious tilt of your head and a knowing grin. "Can't I drink for the taste like most people do?" Bucky retorts. "Touché."

You both fall into a small fit of giggles and soft laughs, the small talk helping to alleviate some of Bucky's nerves. His hands slowly come to settle on your sides since you're not budging from where you'd pressed flat against the door. Enjoying being wedged between a door and Bucky - you'd be crazy not to.

Despite the way, your mind is running a million miles a minute and your gaze can't seem to draw away from Bucky's pouty lips, Bucky doesn't seem to be picking up as easily on your advances. That's okay. He's always been worth the wait.

“...Did you have a good evenin’, doll?” he asks, flesh hand smoothing down to delicately rest on your hip.

“I was with you, wasn’t I?" Bucky looks at you for a beat as if slightly unconvinced... "Yes, Bucky. One of the best dates I've ever been on... ‘S a shame, I don’t want it to end.” You coo, drawing Bucky in closer until you’re both flush against each other. His left-gloved hand lifted to push your hair from your face tenderly.

“Who says it has to end right here?” Bucky hums with his signature playboy grin - no wonder why he had every girl in Brooklyn creaming their panties.

The low husk of his voice strikes you to your very core, allowing your imagination to run wild with the countless thoughts of what the man before you could really do if he tried. Really, it wouldn’t take much; Bucky already had you curled around his finger, whether he knew it or not was another question.

“I thought you’d never ask,” pleased, you lay your hands flat on Bucky’s chest. Feeling under his open coat and hands finding the expanse of muscle. You tilt your head back, biting your bottom lip seductively with a cheeky grin.

You aren’t ready to find Bucky’s eyes watching you so intently. The way he wets his bottom lip before worrying it between his teeth and releasing that pouty lip of his. Eyes boring right into you and keeping you pinned between him and the door. Ever so carefully, Bucky cups your cheek in his large gloved palm. There’s hardly a missed beat when you turn your head and nose affectionately into his palm, able to hear the soft whirring of the machinery before pressing a chaste kiss to leave behind.

“I had fun tonight,” You reiterate to him softly - the drag of your lips accentuated with every word against his palm.

“M’glad. You look good when you’re happy.” Bucky murmurs, but he seems distracted. Cobalt eyes follow every drag of your lips, Bucky exhales a shallow breath.

“I bet I could think of a few ways you could make me even happier, Bucky,” you singsong, hand sliding up over Bucky’s that hold your cheek to press affectionately into his touch. Always grateful for anything, nuzzling into him like a needy kitten.

Part of you is waiting for the next step. For him to make the next move - that’s the dance between you two. You step, and Bucky steps one more further. Playing off of each other. It doesn’t come.

“M’sure you could, sugar,” Bucky starts, and you’re waiting for the ‘But’... “But,” There it is. “Maybe we should slow down just a little. It’s been such a good night…”

“We could make it better,” you offer, and Bucky flushes slightly at the implication.

“...I don’t want to move too fast,” Bucky says after a pause in a hushed whisper - as though scared if he speaks any louder, the universe may come in and rip this good thing away from him as it has a history of doing.

“Listen, I care about you. And I had a really, really good time with you - I’m still so happy you agreed to come out with me. But you’re not- Not some dame. I’m not just trying to get into your pants, Y/N…” Bucky elaborates tentatively, and you watch him with understanding in your gaze.

“I know,” You softly lament. “You’re not that kind of fella, Bucky…” “I want you to feel comfortable with me - happy,” Bucky emphasizes, and for half a moment your heart hurts for the man in front of you. So convinced he’s still capable of doing harm, even after all of this time. “I can’t think of a time I’ve been uncomfortable around you at all, actually,” Softly you contest, and Bucky offers you a briefly amused smile.

“We can take our time,” Bucky presses; You can tell it’s more for him than it is for you. “Anything you need.” No questions about it. Nuzzling into Bucky’s palm, your lips form a chaste smile. “You’re too good to me, sugar…” “Funny, I’ve found myself thinking that all night.” Bucky finds humor in the words; expression softening and some of the tension that had begun to rebuild in him falling away. Bucky laughs. Soft, but rich. He leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your temple; Protective and loving. “Earlier, you said you had fun… So did I. This was one of the best nights in a while for me,” The admission comes with the feel of Bucky’s lips ghosting your skin. It’s distracting.

“I’m glad; You deserve good things, too, Bucky.” Something you tend to try to remind Bucky of often; You’ll slam that fact into his head until he one day decides to believe it for himself and see what everyone else sees. “You are my good thing,” he whispers even quieter; Unintentionally dropping the tone of his voice and sending shivers down your spine.

No words are exchanged when your hands lift and find Bucky’s defined jaw; cradling him gently and drawing him in for a deep but loving kiss. The first of many tonight.

Both you and Bucky had soon migrated from the door in the foyer to your cozy living room. You both struggled to keep space between one another; Lips meeting together over and over again. The only sound was your own heart pounding in your ears and the soft breaths between you and Bucky.

You were planted in his lap. Sat on strong, thick thighs - your arms draped around Bucky’s broad shoulders. His hands sat comfortably on your sides; gloves abandoned on the coffee table when he’d wanted to feel you. Not leather obstructing him from feeling the proper warmth of your flushed skin. His head tipped back to accommodate the way you had gained a few inches on him upon being seated in his lap.

Despite the way you two were entangled, it was nothing more than kisses. His hands hadn’t dared to venture below your belt, and while the kisses were definitely full of passion, it wasn’t the flame you were yearning and burning for. To respect Bucky’s request though, you didn’t proceed any further. Content with the taste of Bucky on your tongue, the warmth of his breath, and the barely there noises you were able to draw out of him that rumbled in his chest. His lips were soft and moved naturally against one another - It was a moment of euphoria.

Just the way your mouths slotted together alone was enough to rile you up; It’d been so long, and no one was as tender a lover as Bucky was with you. Each time he touched you, it was with consideration and care for what you wanted, what would feel good. Never in the means of his own self-gain. It made you that much more desiring of him; the connection that you both maintained had been there for months, it was simply that you both had finally begun to act on it.

You’d told yourself you’d be slow. Take this at your own pace. No one wants to rush into a relationship that has the potential to end messy. But there you were; Necking in your living room with Brooklyn’s finest bachelor since 1936. Truly, you were only human, and it hadn’t escalated further than that. Breathing each other in, heated and heavy. You hadn’t even done it intentionally.

One could only fault you so much when your hips rolled into Bucky’s. Formerly nestled still in his lap, you found yourself moving without thought. Grinding down into the soldier’s lap, it elicited a deep groan from his throat, and tilted his head down to pull your lips apart. His hands instinctively moved to your hips; Clutching moderately tight to still your ministrations. You relished in the subtle pressure that came with Bucky’s hands securely enough to hold you still for hardly a moment. It was enough time for you to have realized the mistake you’d made.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” you stammered between the both of you, and Bucky instead took a shallow inhale. “No, no– It… It was good. It felt good, it’s-... It’s just… been a while.” Bucky timidly expressed, cheeks flushed and breathless. You noticed how he struggled briefly to maintain a heated gaze with you, eyes averting before pinching shut altogether.

“Do we need to stop? It’s okay if we do, Bucky…” Let him know that he had that out if he needed it; You wouldn’t be upset.

That option left Bucky shaking his head profusely. “No,” he rasps out, and you can feel his breath fanning your face. Can still taste him on your lips. You’re both still so close… You can feel the faint flex of his fingers holding you. “I want to keep going… Just… Give me a moment, alright?” He requests, and you give him a comforting smile and an understanding nod.

Your fingers card up into Bucky’s disheveled locks and brush thick hair back from falling in his face. Some of the tension leaves his body when you press a chaste kiss to his temple.

“Whatever you need,” you softly let him know. You’re both still for a minute or two. Simply letting Bucky hold your hips while you kept some of the pressure on your knees - dug into the cushions on either side of his thick thighs. Soothingly rubbing your fingers through Bucky’s hair and giving him a tender hug he relishes in.

Then, slowly, he pulls you back down. Guiding your ass back into his lap and bodies coming flush together. The moment is experimental and you allow Bucky to take all the time he needs even if there is a burning in your thighs from the awkward position. Basking in the relief with a soft sigh and nosing into Bucky’s hair. His hands experimentally dare to explore a little further down. Rubbing from your waist down over your hips to the tops of your thighs. His hands feel like that of a bear's paws in comparison to your physique.

“How are we feeling…?” You ask, checking in on him. “A little better… I’ve been using that 4-7-8 breathing method my therapist recommended, actually,” Bucky says, and you can tell for a moment he just needs to play it by ear. Even if you both don’t do anything tonight, he’s worth the wait.

“Really? That’s good,” Indulging in the moment of chit-chat as his hands still continue the back-and-forth motion. Hypnotizing and leaving your thighs tingling.

Bucky’s reply comes in a soft hum, tilting his head down to nudge his nose at your neck. You tilt your head enough for him to burrow in the hollow of your throat and nose affectionately there. His warm breath makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You let out a shaky exhale before a sappy grin spreads across your face.

He begins to slowly mouth at the sensitive skin of your throat. Gentle kisses and the faint scratch of his stubble that initially tickles enough to make you wiggle in his lap.

“Bucky!” You squeak and you feel the grin against your skin.

“Easy, easy…” Bucky lowly tells you and it burns into your core. It’s easy to go lax when he’s the voice coaxing you back. “Good doll,” Bucky says with a chuckle - clearly teasing but it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“M’ticklish,” You defend as your arms squeeze around his shoulders. “I can tell. Might come in handy one day…” His lips still ghost over your skin; ever so distracting.

“You wouldn't.” “I might,” Bucky says, his voice smooth but thick like honey.

A playful pinch to Bucky’s shoulder makes him surrender with a laugh before tipping his head up to press your foreheads together again. This time you’re surprised to find his eyes meeting yours head-on.

“Thank you for being understanding,” Bucky addresses the elephant in the room, traces of anxiety in those gray eyes. “I’m still trying to learn how to let myself be with someone else…”

The words feels so raw; A hushed confession and a moment Bucky is being fully honest with you. Not hiding from it or skirting around it - communicating his boundaries and being able to give himself the time he needs. Your chest swells with pride for the man before you in his growth; You’re so inlove.

“It’s okay, really. I’m not here just to get into your pants, Bucky. I care about you, and we can go as fast or as slow as you need.” You affirm, always wanting Bucky to know that. That he’s safe with you the way you are with him.

“I know,” he whispers, tipping his head up a little further to let your lips brush. “It’s why I like you so much…”

You smile, unable to help but feel a fluttering in your chest. Bucky draws you the rest of the way to press your lips together again. Starting from scratch so that Bucky is able to be more expecting and prepared this time. The build-up doesn’t bother you in the slightest, and it doesn’t take the both of you long to build up where you once were. Bucky’s comfortable kissing you. It’s everything else that daunts him.

Bucky is the one who holds your hips tight against his lap as he gives an experimental roll of his hips up into your ass; feeling the semi-bulge through his jeans. You gasp against his lips, and he seizes the moment to lick hot into your mouth. He doesn’t do it again; Teasing you and inviting you to take the next step. Experimentally, you return the gesture when you grind against Bucky’s lap. It draws a noise from both of you at that time.

“Yeah..,” Bucky huskily groans. “That’s good, fuck…” Bucky’s praise eggs you on to keep pressing down into Bucky. Rotating your hips to allow both of you to grind through your clothes; Traces of Bucky’s arousal evident in his jeans.

He steals your breath with a claiming kiss. Strong hands trailing up your thighs to test the waters. Feeling over the swell of your ass and encouraging you to keep pressing down into him. Rutting against his constricted and half-swelled cock. You’re unsure what to do with your hands other than planting them firmly on Bucky’s chest as you grind your sexes together. Fingers curling into bunch fabric of his shirt as Bucky’s head tilts to deepen your kiss further.

With each second that passes, you feel dizzier. High on the endorphins and lack of oxygen - your chest felt warm and fuzzy. Kissed senseless as Bucky’s firm hands squeeze the globes of your ass and rips a needy keen from your throat, drawing your grinds to a controlled halt. Right when you fear as though you might be too light-headed from the lack of air, Bucky shows some mercy. Freeing your lips and leaving you to gasp; Bucky licking his lips with a satisfied grin.

“I think I taste mint, did you pop a tic-tac earlier when I wasn’t looking…?” Bucky breathlessly teases, both of you so close that you can feel his smile. In that moment, you’re simply trying to return to Earth for a moment between soft, airy breaths.

When you will yourself to finally look at Bucky again, his eyes are blown. His black pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes; leaving behind a thin ring. Something inside of him looks livelier than you’ve ever seen, Bucky’s cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

“Jesus, Bucky,” is all you manage, earning a cheeky grin from Bucky - proud. “Speechless? I’m relieved to know after nearly a century I haven’t gotten rusty… It’d be embarrassing if I was 107 and didn’t know how to kiss,” Bucky jokes, and something inside of you feels so warm and fuzzy.

That you both can joke while still being in the moment and grinding into each other moments prior.

“Cocky, are we soldier?” You hum after regaining some of your composure, hands lifting to hold his face. Before Bucky has a chance to speak, the wiggle of your hips draws a reminder of the length in his jeans. Bucky chokes on a stifled groan low in his throat at the way you frott into him.

“Very funny,” he asks, still slightly out of breath.

“You took me by surprise,” you admit softly, “You never seem so brave…” “Frankly, sugar, it’s… Been a really long time. I’ve spent a too long runnin’ and not getting to actually feel alive - I’m not just surviving anymore. It’s taken time and it’ll still take more, but you make me feel better.” Bucky confesses fondly, and you snort with amusement. Pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

“Sap.” You murmur between soft pecks. “Only you could turn something hot into something sweet.” “Can’t we have both?” Bucky cooes. “Absolutely.”

This time, you take lead. Pecking kisses down from Bucky’s lips, over his stubbled cheek and defined jaw. His head tilts back to accommodate the way you nudge, leaving open-mouth kisses in your wake. Sucking the salty skin to leave behind loving bruises that will only last so long with Bucky’s healing factor. He groans; Adam’s apple bobbing when you stamp kisses back up his neck to the juncture of his ear and jaw. A soft kiss before you take a playful nip at his earlobe and send shivers racking through the man under you. “Oh, babydoll,” Bucky sighs airly, taking it upon himself to guide your hips. You move on your own accord as Bucky grinds you into his lap; Moving you back and forth to rut together through your clothes. You don’t have to do any of the work, instead just taking some time to give Bucky the loving he deserves.

When you peer at his face, his eyes are closed. Lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks and lips parted with soft breaths; the occasional clench of teeth pulls out a gravelly rumble from his chest. All of it has you so hot, so riled up. It’s just the two of you alone in the apartment; The air is charged with electricity between the two of you. The scrape of your teeth makes Bucky’s lips curl into a devious grin.

“You’re doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praises. “My pretty baby, yeah… God– Do you feel what you do to me, honey…?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, the friction working him up just as much as it was you. The throbbing between your legs was becoming insatiable - your answer coming in a whimper as you sucked another purpling bruise into Bucky’s throat.

Your hips move enthusiastically. Trying to meet Bucky for every grind; Becoming too much for him to handle at one point.

“Sl-Slow down, baby… Easy, we’ve got time,” he attempts to coax, but you’re busy chasing that high at that moment. You want to make Bucky feel good - this is doing that for him; Pleasing him.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” You ask with an airy giggle, nosing up to Bucky’s ear. Your lips press against the shell of his ear; “I can’t get enough of you touching me, Bucky. I just want to make you come, thinking about it turns me on so much…”

You don’t realize until it’s too late what the words do to him, whispered out right in his ear. Bucky’s nose scrunches up and his jaw goes slack. His body becomes taut underneath you; Hands clutching hard and leaving a dull ache in your bones despite the way you’re still trying to move. Bucky’s hips stutter harshly, and suddenly he’s gasping out. Moaning low and breathy as he rides out his orgasm with half-hearted bucks up into your ass.

Your eyes widen with a sense of wonder as Bucky comes undone in those short few seconds. His lips curl into a perfect ‘o’ and he shudders, eyes pinched shut. “Ohhhh fuuuck,” Bucky moans, long and drawn out, and there’s not a hotter sight than Bucky Barnes coming because of you. You smile; Pleased with yourself and priding yourself on the fact of being able to be the one to do this to Bucky. You continue the grueling roll of your hips into his hard dick - little left to the imagination while your fingers tangle in his hair and you hold him close. Watching his face all the while; Not wanting to miss a single moment.

Bucky rides it out until he’s left with beads of sweat misting his hairline, panting with the rise and fall of his chest. Taking his time, licking his lips before seemingly becoming sheepish of how easily he’d just fallen apart. No warning; It’s been so long since he’s had another sexual partner to experience these things within a positive environment.

Your hips only stop when he’s well and done, knowing that most guys half the time are one-and-done. “That… That felt really good, m’sorry, it’s– it’s different. With, y’know, someone else… Versus alone…” Bucky manages awkwardly, and you simply draw him in for a lingering kiss.

“I understand,” You murmur comfortingly against his lips. “You can clean up in the bathroom; I don’t have anything in your size for underwear, unfortunately, but I can find a pair of flannel bottoms that might fit…” “What about you?” Bucky asks, raising a brow. “Me?” “You.. You didn’t get to… Y’know.”

It’s oddly endearing how he worries about the fact that you weren’t able to get off the way he had. “What, we’re afraid to use adult language now?” You tease, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “M’bein’ serious. I want you to feel good…” Bucky says, rubbing your thighs soothingly. “I can get it up again if you give me a minute.” He adds, and for a moment you’re confused before placing the answer upon a super soldier refractory period.

“You’d be comfortable with that..?” You ask with a curious tilt, and Bucky bites his lips together; you can see the lingering daze in his eyes from the post-orgasm haze. “No,” he answers almost nervously. “I… Tonight has been a lot already. I don’t think I want to go there yet…” And you expect it to end there, but: “I have something else in mind, though.”

“Oh, do you now…?” you muse, curious. “Have you ever heard of mutual masturbation…?”

You’re both sat facing one another on the couch; One of your legs tucked under your body and pants long abandoned to the floor leaving you in nothing but your underwear. You’d felt far less reluctance than Bucky had when it came to stripping down; The layers shed easily as your anticipation festered more and more to the surface.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited. You’ve known Bucky for a while now, and let’s not lie to yourself - He’s a good-looking man who can do things with a single look. The ‘Barnes Charm’ he was so popular for when he was young was still there; Showing itself in small flickers of moments from time to time. The only instances in acting on it on your behalf were in the comfort of your bedroom, alone in the sheets. No one’s business but yours.

But now you’re there with him and no one else. No one to disturb your private moment.

Touch was something that was hard for Bucky - he’d expressed that to you when he stammered over what he’d been asking of you. That he’d rather watch one another right then.

Bucky had no problem drinking you in, either. His eyes were fixed on every movement you made - when you’d peeled your shirt off his eyes followed the expanse of glowing skin and studied it all. Every curve and slope of your body; There was no question of how enamored he was with you. It was the first time in a long time you’d felt truly seen. Someone who wasn’t just trying to get into your pants but found you breathtaking.

It was flattering; You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the way it flustered you to be looked at in awe. There was something about Bucky that made you feel perfect. He was a man that was genuine in everything he did; Not much of a people-pleaser if he doesn’t have to be. Arguably a little stubborn, actually. You knew nothing about the way he looked at you was feigned.

He chews his lip as his eyes study you. Leaned more forward from where he’s sat sideways on his half of the couch. Left hand clutching the back of the couch cushion, Bucky had that familiar bulge in his jeans (which were now unbuttoned and peeled open to show off his navy blue briefs).

“You look so perfect, doll…” Bucky murmurs lovingly after a moment, and your heart melts in your chest.

The words felt too intimate for you to accept easily, but you didn’t want to reject the compliment either. So rather than reply verbally, you leaned back into the cushion propped up behind you and drew your right leg up; Pressed into the back of the couch. Your right leg dangles off the side of the couch and leaving you exposed to Bucky. A welcome invitation if he decides to change his mind and wants to touch you.

Bucky breath hitches; shuddering out a slow exhale through his nose. His gaze is hungry, his hand thoughtlessly moving to his own groin to palm the returning erection.

“I’ll love you right, one of these days, sugar.” Bucky promises with a lick of his lips. “This is just fine for tonight, Bucky,” You reassure him, and his gaze racks up to your face. “Thank you again for understanding,” And the softness in his hungry eyes sends a cold desire to your core - something more intimate about that look than the one threatening to eat you whole. “Anything for you.” You tell him, meaning every word.

With that, you make a deliberate show of teasing your fingers down your chest and tummy before slinking between your legs.

“Aww, that’s it, sugar,” Bucky hums fondly with a breathy chuckle. “Eager little thing, gonna put on a pretty show for me..?”

“Only if you promise to do the same; This is just as much for me as it is for you,” You tease affectionately, mood defiled when you trace your hole with your middle and ring finger. The pads of your fingers are cold on sensitive skin, leaving you to shiver and sigh out an airy moan.

“M’not in nearly as a rush as you are, sweetheart.” Bucky hums, and you catch the way his hand slides down to palm at his cock through his underwear. “So excited to be on display, are we?” “Just for you,” you exhale, preening at the way he looks at you while experimentally dipping the tips of your fingers into your wet and wanting hole.

“Thank God, might have to wring someone by the neck if I gotta share a sight as sweet as this...” The tone is playful and joking, but there are traces of genuine possessiveness in Bucky’s voice. The idea alone is enough to have you showing off; gathering the wetness and making a deliberate show of smearing it over glistening skin. Bucky licks his lips with a look as though he wants to eat you alive.

Atleast it’ll give him something to look forward to for when you both do get to the point you can be physically comfortable with intimacy. You can have more than enough fun with this.

“Mother, mary, n’ joseph…” Bucky drawls; that Brooklyn accent of his coming through thick with the rumble of his words. He relaxes back into the couch while you continue the steady stroke of teasing yourself, playing with your clit and leaving your cunt throbbing. Bucky properly slides his jeans down his thighs and bunches his briefs along with them.

The evidence of his previous orgasm smeared in his soiled briefs, his cock thick and bobbing at the cool air. Bucky hisses through his teeth before spitting into his hand and stroking himself off languidly.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep touchin’ yourself for me, I wanna see how you like it…” the words were hummed low, squeaking a moan out of you with just the way he spoke to you alone. “Aww, did you like that, baby? Like the way I talk to you..?”

You bite your lip, swallowing back the noises and answering Bucky’s question in a profuse nod. Fingers still insistently tracing yourself to that sweet spot, you could feel the slow knot building in the pit of your tummy.

“Ah, ah, ah… If m’gonna talk, I wanna hear those sweet noises, babydoll. Sing for me,” Bucky cooes with a breathy chuckle, still fucking his fist on the length of his cock. Pre-come beading at the slit and making the tip glisten with the signs of his arousal.

“Oh, Bucky,” You wantonly mewl out, surprising yourself with how helpless you sound. Trailing your slick fingers down to press the tip of your middle finger into your weeping cunt. Experimentally pressing in, having been pent up for what felt likes ages and aching for relief.

“That’s it, baby,” Bucky’s hand begins to speed up over his aching cock; His thickness jerking in his palm whenever you make a particularly sweet noise. “Show me how you stuff that needy cunt; I wanna see how you - fuck - take care of yourself…”

You moan for Bucky; needy and high and airy. It just feeds into his own arousal as he jerks off across from you. His own groans deep and rough - Piercing gaze keeping you pinned to the couch. Unable to look away from the way Bucky’s gaze bore into you.

His eyes watch you expectantly; Waiting for you to do what he’s asked. You oblige.

Your fingers press knuckle-deep into your cunt; Experimentally thrusting into your channel and leaving your back to arch slightly off the arm of the couch.

“Oh,” you mewl out, fingers driving into your hole, stretching your tightness and leaving your arousal to spill out.

Bucky jerks his thick cock, hand sliding easily and the ministration made easier by the pre-come that spills over his fist. He shifts his hips, licking his lips and grinning at the way you fuck yourself open.

“Look at you, such a pretty baby,” Bucky breathes low between pants for air. “If I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you – mmh, god - were waitin’ for this. So eager to get that hole wet…”

The way Bucky talks to you makes your chest flutter. Your face feels hot, gasping as it drives the way you fuck your hole. Watching the up-stroke on Bucky’s cock - imagining the length sliding home into you and whimpering at the thought. Your eyes screw shut, the room filled with the slick sounds of your fingers in your hole.

“Oh no, babydoll, open those pretty eyes. I want you to watch me,” Bucky demands, and your eyes open on command. “Yeah, that’s it… Good baby, see this?” Bucky stops the stroking of his dick to let his fingers wrap around the girth and give a little tap of the tip to his thigh. Showing off the girth and his thick balls.

“Yeah, yeah this is all for you, honey. M’so hard for you, all for you…” The rumble of his voice was soothing as it was arousing.

“Bu-Bucky,” you squeak past trembling lips. Thighs softly quaking — Bucky’s words could get you off alone. Who knew he was such a filthy talker?

“I’m right here, sugar. ‘S okay, make yourself feel good. Don’t gotta hold back for nothin’, show me, pretty thing. I wanna see it all…” It’s permission if you’ve ever heard it, and suddenly at that moment, you realize how dependent Bucky’s say was over your building orgasm. As if your body knew it was waiting on his approval before you could let yourself come undone.

Your legs draw up to clench your thighs – Stopping yourself when you remember Bucky’s eyes are still fixed upon your flushed body. Watching the hypnotizing display of the quick work you made fingering your needy cunt while he relished int he display. Stroking his cock languidly before building up a pace that matched your own; Wanting to follow your arousal with you.

Just because you both weren’t touching doesn’t mean he couldn’t work with you.

It doesn’t take much; Not that it surprises you. You’d been pent up from the previous grinding into one another; hot and bothered by kisses that gave you a hint of what more could be like.

While your one hand is busy playing with your nub, your free hand smooths up to ruck up your shirt. Bucky’s dilated eyes light up even more when your hand moves under your top; Rolling a nipple between your fingers and drawing even more whorish noise from your swollen lips.

Bucky downright growls, hips arching subtly off the couch as he fucks up into his fist.

“Fuck, you like to play with your nipples, baby? Aww, bet you’re so sensitive… Mm, fuck, yea… M’gonna love gettin’ my hands on you when we’re ready. Gonna learn every nook n’ cranny of you; Wanna worship that pretty body of yours.”

He keeps talking like that; each word straight to your aching core and leaving you soaked. Bucky picks up on it in the way you get louder — noisier.

“You like that? Of course you do — who knew you were so fuckin’ filthy, sugar? Aw, m’gonna come, baby,” Bucky’s voice even until it begins to find a sense of urgency towards the end. A sharp breath from him, both of your hands moving while you watch one another. Pleasuring yourselves and being your most intimate selves; On display for one another.

Your jaw is slack, gasping and moaning out pitiful squeaks while you touch yourself. Bucky’s hand moves smoothly over his arousal, the sound of skin on skin as he jerks himself off.

“Oh, oh fuck, please, I-I’m gonna come, Bucky,” you cry out, and Bucky thumbs at the tip of his cock; wrist twisting towards the head.

“Come for me, baby. C-Cream all over your pretty fingers — come for me, come for me,” Bucky’s words drive you over the edge.

Your walls flutter emptily; begging to be filled as you come undone under your fingers. It’s cloud nine, riding out your high on your familiar fingers. Thighs trembling and soaked with your wetness, hips canting up into nothing as you finish on your fingers. Gasping and squealing out until you’re reduced to pathetic whimpers.

Bucky watches you all the while. Fucking his fist and growling out through his bared teeth when you come. Reaching his own orgasm and painting his fist in thick stripes of creamy white that you want to lick clean. He pants, face flushed as his cock spills his heavy load. Staining the denim of his jeans and leaving a mess (though he’s careful of the couch).

You both slump into the couch, still facing one another when the high has passed. Panting for air, the smell of sex and sweat heavy in the air. You’re the one to break the quiet with an airy giggle, which Bucky grinds widely in response to.

“Are you alright, honey..?” Bucky asks curiously, his own voice hoarse and quiet. “Perfect. How’s about a shower…? You’ve already seen me from the stomach down, I’ve already seen your dick. That’s practically all we have. Nothing to hide,” you offer with a roughness to your own voice, swallowing thickly. You smile, still lingering in the soft air of the post-orgasmic haze.

“Sounds perfect, baby. I’ll go get the shower runnin’, okay?” Bucky offers, tucking his mess back into his underwear (he won’t be wearing them much longer anyways). Scooting forward, he uses his clean hand to cup the back of your head and press a gentle kiss to your temple.

You nod with a soft, ‘mhm’. Enjoying the settling moment's peace and serenity despite the cooling wetness coating your thighs. Moving will be awful but it was well worth it.

Bucky certainly leaves an impression. Kicking off the evening with flowers and a ride to the art museum, strolling the halls lovingly with him while partaking in art, only to come back to your apartment and masturbate together. Bucky might be more full of surprises than you thought. You couldn’t be more excited.

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tarjapearce · 5 months

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OMFG NOW U HAVE TO WRITE SOMETHING WITH MIGUEL AND READER INTRODUCING BABY BELLA (that’s just a nickname i’d give gabriella if she was my daughter 😭) TO FOOTBALL 😭😭😭😭��😭

i’m from germany that’s FOOTBAAALLLL

I was watching a kid play after I came home from work and AHHH reminded me of this ask!! (And don't worry, over here in Honduras we call it football too c: ) Hope you like :')

WARNINGS: Fluff, domestic shenanigans ~

There was little changes in your life after Gabriella was born. Domestic life sure had its perks, and with Miguel everything was thrilling, exhausting and tearjerker.

You had moved to your new home. A two floored home that you and Miguel bought to grow in. Gabriel remained in his now single apartment, teasing his older brother to no end once he saw him with one of your aprons as he cooked dinner while you were bathing Gabi.

Chaos was a constant part of your lives, discovering things as new parents sparked things between your relationship with Miguel. Your teamwork had improved significantly, and so your communication.

Even though there were little misunderstandings here and there, Gabi seemed the common ground that you needed to not fall back into the bad habits pre-marriage you had and sometimes slipped away into your new stage of life.

Gabi or Gabibi, a little play word for Habibi, a little nickname you've given her after watching foreign novelas with Miguel, had grown into a wonderful one year old toddler. And today, she'd witness her Papa's first soccer game.

Chubby cheeks, vivacious eyes that followed Miguel everywhere, a bubbly laugh that instantly melt him was always there whenever he showed up.

His princesa, his Solecito was always shining hard on his rainy days or whenever he had a fight with you. But now, she was resting on your lap, looking for him among the other team players after you lathered her skin with sunscreen and put a little hat to avoid any discomfort.

It wasn't hard to miss her dear Papa, not when he yelled like no other to Peter, and was bossy enough to make him the captain.

Gabi's eyes followed Miguel and she'd squeal and blabble overjoyed whenever he dribbled and kicked the ball here and there. She'd make the grabby hands to him and mumble a pa pa while clapping whenever he was close enough.

"Yes, that's Papa"

You smooched her cheeks while she kept her eyes on Miguel. Another loud squeal came after the whistle echoed, announcing the half time.

Miguel approached and she called him with baby and drooly words. A toothless grin came into her face while Miguel loomed over the both. Just like you, her eyes always looked at him with such marvel it made him weak.

You handed him a towel to dry off the sweat. He then kissed your temple and took Gabi in his arms to them shower her chubby and lovely face in kisses, earning him a raucous laugh and squeal while her tiny hands touched his.

"If I get a to score a goal, is for you and Mama, ok?"

"Ma ma"

"She's been cheering for you nonstop."

You chuckled while getting her back to drink some water.

"I heard her over the field"

"Even though my ears have suffered a bit, she loves watching you play."

"Pa pa!"

"Yes, mi princesa?"

Gabi blabbed and clapped, eyes keen and settled on the ball.

"You think she likes it?"

You took her again as Miguel drank from his bottle.

"Wanna find out?"

---

And against all odds, Gabriella had seemed to take a liking in watching Miguel play. Things seemed to take a turn for her when there was game nights in your own home.

Meaning, Miguel, Peter, Jessica's husband and Gabriel would gather up in the living room to yell and watch at the screen, beverages and snacks on the table. Despite the noise, Gabi wanted to be there, next to Miguel.

It was comical and endearing to see her mimic him whenever he was angry. If he yelled, she'd give a presumably angry screech, and if he celebrated, Gabi would clap and burst into a laughing fit.

Miguel had gotten her a little soft ball that she loved kicking, Miguel would enter his narrator mode and build up the tension to then help his daughter score.

He lifted her up in the air and tickled her.

And now, seeing her kick the ball and play in a little league school team, made his chest swell in pride.

His smile widened as he waved back at Gabi, that had greeted him right after scoring her first goal ever. A little cupcake was to celebrate as you recorded while your dear six years old baby girl smeared Miguel's cheek with frosting.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff

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lovebugism · 1 year

Text

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary.

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own.

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink.

Maybe the beer is partly to blame.

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup.

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is.

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls.

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you.

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you.

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years.

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd.

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore.

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad.

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless.

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it.

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming.

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together.

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more.

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you.

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger.

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence.

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another.

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting.

He makes sure you know it too.

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you.

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to.

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart.

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it — the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier.

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing.

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house.

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue.

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock.

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it.

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more.

He wants to commit it all to memory.

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move.

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick.

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly.

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat.

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him.

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for.

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them.

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained.

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night.

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close.

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock.

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken.

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into.

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you.

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket.

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #published by bug #st oneshots

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 2 months

Text

How They ...

A/N ::: I probably should have done these in different order (bedtime first) but oh well. I'm in a very HC headspace right now. I hope you guys enjoy. Horrific typos? lmk. Thanks!

C/W ::: Oral sex (nothing TOO graphic though - I think)

MDNI Under The Cut, Please

⊰ Go down on you

⊰ Draken ::: Is either slow and methodical or will devour you.

⊰ Mitsuya ::: Prefers to take his time and do it "correctly" (hint: "correctly" is how you taught him through your non-verbal cues. God help me, I'm so in love with him)

⊰ Mikey ::: For real, whatever, however, wherever, whenever he wants. But you always walk crawl away with newborn deer legs.

⊰ Baji ::: Sloppy. Sloppy sloppy sloppy and it's the most marvelous sound in the world, you think. It's so loud and wet and squelchy (shut up, it is a real word) that you don't know if you're getting off to the sensation of him rockin' your world, suckin' on your clit and tongue-fucking you or the lapping noises he's making.

⊰ Chifuyu ::: Prim and proper until you're about to cum. Then he has fun with it. Gets a little sloppy but that's only because Baji told him that you like it so much so he tries it out on his girl and "I'll be damned," he'll say to Baji, "she came all over my face, man!"

⊰ Hanma ::: Wild card. Sometimes the two of you will be laying in bed watching tv and he'll shimmy up over to you and push your shorts/panties aside and lazily finger and lick you. Sometimes he will throw your dress or skirt over your head and eat you like a man on death row. Sometimes he will eat you so thoroughly that you're sure you'll be sensitive for a week. But most of the time you can count on it being from behind. As I've said in the past, Hanma likes you face down, ass up.

⊰ Kisaki ::: Is surprisingly good at this. But he won't give you what you want right away. He likes to take his time with you; to tease you. On a few occasions he's gotten crazy with it (I'm talkin' glasses-fogging-up-and-crooked-on-his-pretty-face crazy). You're just so damn happy when he looks up at you and starts crawling backwards that you don't even care how he does it ... just that he does.

⊱ Get Ready for Bed With You

⊱ Draken ::: Makes sure you don't need anything else before he lowers his towering body down next to you and tells you "Yes, I made sure the doors are locked. But baby, I don't know why you're afraid. I'm here." He smiles at how you flipped the covers back for him and slinks down onto the mattress, scooting over as close to you as possible. He sleeps on his back mostly so you can rest your head on his chest, under the warmth and safety of his left arm.

⊱ Mistuya ::: Likes to brush his teeth at the same time you do and will use the other end of the towel you're using to dry his face off (at the same time). Follows you around to make sure things are locked up and turned off. Puts his hand on your lower back as you climb over the bed to your side and pull the covers back. Likes to sleep with his right arm and right leg draped over you in the winter (the extra heat and closeness never hurt anyone, right?). In the summer lays on his back, sprawled out, like he's in the beginning phases of making a snow angel.

⊱ Mikey ::: Likes to watch you do your routine before bed. He likes it even more when you're feeling playful and smear a little of your nighttime lotion on his face. He will joke about how he's really noticing a change in the elasticity and evenness of the skin on his face. You both have always kind of gone to bed at the same time/together, unless his boys are over. In which case he will come climbing into bed later and that's ok with you because baby boy is a bed/blanket/pillow hog. He 100% of the time always has to have his cheek pressed to your chest. Says he likes how soft and warm your boobs are and that the sound of your heartbeat is the most pretty lullaby he's ever heard. *Still shares his favorite blanket with you.*

⊱ Baji ::: Purposely waits for you to finish brushing your hair so he can start to brush his hair with your hairbrush. Then he will come pouting and stomping into the bedroom where you're already settled and comfy, whining about how his arms are tired from fighting and can you please brush his hair (you do it better anyway, something about less split ends). He has literally fallen asleep on top of you. And no, it's not like that. He just loves being super close to you and if that means behaving like a cat, so be it. Also really likes how it feels when you're sleeping on him (anywhere/any part of his body. his legs, his chest, his shoulder. He loves that you trust him enough to be unconscious around him - that's never happened with anyone before. I mean, you can't entirely blame them - no offense, Baji!)

⊱ Chifuyu ::: He will use the time that he's waiting for you to clear out of the bathroom to feed the cats that hang around your place (he knows you like to have a little time to yourself at the very end of the day to unwind in peace and quiet). But once that's out of the way, he likes to walk around with you and talk about your days/what you have planned for tomorrow. He will ask if you packed your lunch for work for the next day and if you haven't he will ask if you want him to help you or if you'd like him to bring you something when he closes the pet shop on his lunch break. "Maybe we can have lunch together?" His green eyes and sweet smile are so potent that you can never say no to him (you even offer to buy when you two meet up the next day at the place you both agree on - damn, he's good0). Once the two of you are all snuggled in bed, he will ultimately change his mind about how he is laying and roll over, throw his arm over your waist, kiss your shoulder and tell you he loves you and he hopes you have sweet dreams.

⊱ Hanma ::: He doesn't really have any routine at bedtime other than one more smoke, pissing and making sure you're coming in "sometime soon." He likes to hold you once you're both in bed but I think he likes to be held a lot, too. For all of his bravado, there's definitely a part of him that wants to be wanted for more than a pair of fists. When he's deep in sleep, he thrashes around like a drowning drunkard. Is a human furnace. Likes to have fanS (yes, plural) pointed at him from all different directions.

⊱ Kisaki ::: Has a more in depth bedtime routine than even you or your girlfriends combined. He showers every night. And don't count on or even try to join him unless he gives you "the look." He takes cold showers and is in and out in less than 5 minutes. It's just to wash the day off of him before climbing into bed - which we all know, is a sacred space - and such spaces should be kept tidy. He has a glass of water on his nightstand and a case for his glasses to rest in while he isn't wearing them. Prefers to keep to himself mostly unless he knows you're having a bad time of things or he just wants to cuddle with you. It's ok, though, because his hands and feet get freakishly cold (regardless of the season) and if he were to touch you in the night, it would startle the hell out of you.

@viburnt @darkstarlight82 @kazutora-kurokawa @arlerts-angel @southside-otaku @katkitkats

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kitkat-the-muffin · 23 days

Text

Tis a niche of its own

Sorry there is only two female characters, I kinda pulled these off the top of my head and probably missed a ton of other candidates. Reblog with an addition if you have one!

Edit: I forgot to make this poll a week long! Once this poll ends I'll remake it with new additions depending on the results (the characters with the fewest results will be replaced with suggested characters from the notes so be sure to suggest some!) in the meantime tho plz reblog to increase sample size

This follows my own definition of what "Comic Relief" means: A character that is used as a conduit for comedy in a piece of media

Through character studies I have determined that there are 5 types of comic relief: the Character Relief, the Audience Relief, the Tone Shifter, the Butt of the Joke, and the Slapstick. Characters that identify as "Comic Relief" usually fall into one or more of these categories

Further explanation under the cut

The Character Relief refers to a character who actively makes jokes to be funny in-universe through conscious humor. Examples from this poll would be Sans and Rayla, who go out of their way to make their friends laugh

The Audience Relief refers to a character who makes the audience laugh regardless of their impact on the story. Examples from this poll would be Lapis and Gus, who are often involved in comedic bits meant for audience entertainment that aren't acknowledged by the narrative as anything unprecedented

The Tone Shifter refers to a character who makes jokes to relieve tension and shift the tone of a scene, either consciously or unconsciously. Examples from this poll would be Jay and Leo, as they both consciously make jokes about grim situations to help their friends or family feel better. Additionally, Jay would do this unconsciously before his trauma made him start doing it on purpose

The Butt of the Joke refers to a character who is made fun of by other characters in-universe, whether endearingly or not. Examples from this poll would be Dewey and Lance, who are often met with insults whenever they do something wrong or silly. The insults are usually meant to be endearing and comedic, but they can still feed into the character's possible inferiority complex. This also applies whenever a villain hits them with a sick burn*

The Slapstick refers to a character who is made fun of by the narrative and the audience like a punching bag. Examples from this poll would be Sokka and Yusuke, who are sometimes put in troubling and awkward situations as a gag for the audience's entertainment alone. These gags are not fun for the characters yet delightful to watch

Most comic relief characters can be characterized as multiples of these. For example, Jar-Jar from Star Wars is both Slapstick and Audience Relief, and even if you don't find his jokes funny that doesn't change the fact that they were written with your entertainment in mind

If you're curious how a "The Narrative's Favorite (derogatory)" character would fit into this chart, they're likely both a Butt of the Joke and a Slapstick character, making their life absolute hell. To be honest, MK from Monkie Kid is an example of a character who fits all 5 categories, but he isn't blue so he isn't in this poll

*Ok if you've ever seen Phineas and Ferb Mission Marvel let me just say MODOK is a total Butt of the Joke and my favorite line in that special is when a TV announcer calls him a "Giant Chicken Egg with a Face" and I just had to mention that omg

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brianwashere · 8 months

Note

hello!! saw your writing today in my tags and got interested, read some more and you seem really cool :D i got one fic stuck in my head though, the one you posted earlier today with the 7 foot spider reader! it was really cool but i kind of thought about a follow up (and I made sure to check your rules before this)

i was thinking, m/n is really big, intimidating and generally a badass- however. in bed (nsfw) he’s inexperienced, shy af, and ends up just being really submissive (you actually didn’t specify if you prefer dom or sub reader, i assumed you mind neither, but if u don’t feel comfortable with this then just ignore)

thank you, and keep up your great works so far :D

Anon, you’re officially my favorite fucking person ever. Oh my god. This req. warmed my heart. Idek what. It just did. Thank you for reading my other fics too. Wow. I’m reeling rn.

Also you didn’t specify who with so I just did HCs for Noir and Miguel

Pls req again soon! You’re so sweet

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony **

Summary: look at req

Tw: explicit activities ehehehehe, language

-Miguel-

The first time you two try anything he’s expecting you to be all dominant and get his ass blasted

Y’all two are making out and he’s ready to take it to the next level

And you’re nervous cause you know he’s expecting you to be this super experienced “knows how to make you scream immediately” kinda guy

The truth is you haven’t had much experience because while people may be into the whole “huge man” thing they’re too scared to actually come up to you and even have a conversation

And you’re also scared of hurting your partner

Just a mix of things that led you to little experience

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to figure it out

As soon as you glanced at his face nervously he knew something was up

At first Miguel is surprised bcc he would’ve expected men and women to practically be hanging from you

Once he recovers from the initial shock he’s down with topping and showing you the ropes

It’s a bit of a boost to his ego, not to mention a massive turn on for him

He never lets you shy away from him/cover your face. He loves seeing you. He knows he’s not stronger than you but he’ll still pull your hands away/pull you closer

But sometimes he does wanna be on bottom

Queue very erotic teaching sessions

When you do something he likes he’ll definitely over exaggerate so you’ll know

He also loves marking you up in more…intense ways because he knows it won’t really hurt you

Clawing your back. He’ll claw the SHIT out of your back.

Biting you too. Sometimes he just can’t help it

He finds out you have god tier stamina and impecable recovery time and will definitely use that to his advantage

*cough cough* Overstimulation and denial *cough cough*

He’s down to do whatever you’re comfortable with but sometimes he really needs some stress relief i.e. getting a blowjob or just fucking you senseless

He won’t admit it but he likes when he’s the little spoon after you two are done

~Noir~

You got nervous and told him the first make out session that you had practically no experience

He was a little taken aback, again, you’re so big and so hot how could people not be lining up for a piece of you

It makes him feel even more lucky to be with you though

“Oh…that’s ok, dear. We’ll take it slow, then.”

Then he finds out your submissive too and he’s pretty sure he has a heart attack

Now he was pretty vanilla at first but then he found the internet and stumbled upon some kinks and did some…research

Behind. He loves seeing your back muscles move and twist under him

He likes tying your wrists together with some of his webbing

It’s strong enough that it could actually hold you if you tried resisting, maybe not for very long, but it wouldn’t snap like thread at the slightest pressure

He loves praising you. Praise. All the time. Always praise. You could breathe and he’d be on his knees for you

Every time he does something new he asks if you’re ok with it

He’ll be gentle if that’s what you want but he figures out that’s usually not the case

Usually you want everything he’s got, as much as he’ll provide you

He does love soft romantic nights with you though

Where he gets to enjoy your large beautiful frame and your contrasting shyness

When he gets to slow down and drink in ALL of you

The noises you make, the small movements, your incoherent mumbling

He loves ALL of it

He’s so down bad for you not even a joke

A little guilty pleasure for him is kissing you senseless

He loves being the big spoon for you, even if it just feels like a backpack is attached to you

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popquizhot-shot · 9 months

Text

Father Mine- 3

ok so this is where canon goes out the window, ive made my own universe, this might be blasphemy against marvel comics but i dont know. Honestly i made this up as i kept going and i like how this chapter ended<3 tell me how you like it! if you want a spoiler go to the tags and see what i've tagged :) part 1

You must have passed out because you wake up in someone’s living room.

“Anyone home?” You dare to call out. The apartment is sort of open-plan and if you had the energy to turn around and move you would have been able to see the man in the white suit staring at you.

“Yep. Hello!” The man walks up to you and you flinch at his strong southern london accent and glaring white suit that makes him look like a psycho Colonel Sanders, “I hope you’re alright, Khonshu said you were from another dimension?”

You reluctantly reply, “That’s right? And by Khonshu do you mean the actual Egyptian God?”

He nods excitedly, “Yea! Right twit he is!”

You look at him worriedly, maybe he is psycho colonel sanders after all.

He looks at himself in the mirror and does a double take, “Oh bollocks! No wonder you look scared!” The suit disappears to reveal a man with wild curls in an oversize t-shirt and pajamas, “sorry, sometimes I forget I still have it on.” He smiles nervously, “Um I’m Steven. With a V.”

That causes you to smile a little, maybe he’s not so bad, “Hello Steven.” You wave from your position on the couch and tell him your name.

Behind him you see a bony pigeon looking skeleton appear and your eyes widen, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!” You point at it and scream.

Steven turns around, “That’s Khonshu, you can see him?”

“NO SHIT!” You web a wall and pull yourself up to stick to it, glaring at the offending creature.

“That’s mental.” He exclaims.

“What universe is this?” You ask him, eyes narrowed underneath your mask.

“Well, there’s no particular name for it.” Steven begins, but Khonshu intervenes, “How is it that you were able to traverse through the inter dimensional planes?”

“I knew someone who could.”

Suddenly Stevens demeanour changes and your spider sense tingles, you ready your webs against the potential threat.

The voice that comes out of Stevens mouth is not his. It’s the sound of the man who threw you here.

“Kid?” He says when you freeze and take your mask off, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re-You’re not Steven.” Your voice breaks at the familiar lilt.

He shakes his head, “My name is Marc.”

———————————-

“Miguel! Stop it!” Jess finally snaps and the man looks up at her.

She takes a hold of his hair and uses it to maneuver his face to look at him, “You either go and get her back, or you fucking move on. Because in this state there is no way you will be able to do anything. Get your shit together. ”

He gulps, not used to seeing her angry side often and nods.

“She thinks I’m a monster.” He looks down at his toes and breathes shakily.

“Then prove to her that you’re not. You’re her father, regardless of what she says, she still loves you. You need to apologize to her.” She looks at him pointedly and he sighs.

"What do you want me to say, 'Hey honey, I know what I did was wrong, I was wrong to chase a teenager and I was too blinded by my fear of losing my daughter again that I chased you away. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' Thats not going to be good enough."

"It's a start."

"Jessica." he looks up

"What?"

"I should have told you, something about her."

"What?"

"She's not a normal variant, even if her universe was destroyed. That fact alone makes her a special case. There's a reason I sent her to Earth 19999. Her atoms and dna will not glitch there. And I don't know why."

"Why didn't you send her there before?"

"It was too dangerous."

"As opposed to Earth 1999999?" Jess raises an eyebrow.

"Very similar universes, but everything is flipped."

The woman tilts her head, "What do you mean?"

————-

You sip on the hot tea Steven had made for you, glaring at the bony god sitting opposite you.

“I cannot send you back, child.” He says and you roll your eyes,

“As if I didn’t know that. The tea’s lovely, thank you.” You smile at Steven who beams at you. He’s much nicer than the American man living inside him. The one who was Miguel in this universe.

“Marc?”

He nods, “I happen to know of someone who can help you.”

You tilt your head, “Go on.”

He went to explain how he was on call as an Avenger, who were considered the world’s mightiest heroes, and how he was acquainted with someone known as Dr Strange.

As soon as he says, the name Strange, your mind considers the possibility that you might be in the universe of idiots, as Miguel calls it. Earth-1999999.

He’s spent whole hours explaining the entire storyline that honestly came out of a movie to you and while it was such, really Captain America you ditched your best friend to go be with someone who had already moved on? You were drawn to the universe.

It reminded you very much of your home universe that was destroyed.

When you’d nodded and said you’d be on your way he’d blocked you from leaving. Saying it was too dangerous and that you were being an irresponsible person.

You tried to reason with him but he was able to block your punches with efficiency, and he reached for your web slingers. The ones Miguel had given you.

That was currently why there was a purple bruise on Stevens’s cheek that you felt bad about. This sweet man didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of a hard punch. So you had helped him around the kitchen and he made you tea as a way of saying thank you.

“If you can’t take me away, you can atleast lead me to Strange, considering your own Knight isn’t letting me leave.”

“For good reason.”

“But it doesn’t make sense, without the watch I would be glitching every three seconds because the universe would not accept my genes. Here I haven’t glitched a single time.”

The god tilts his head and seems to contemplate your words, mimicking the man who looks at you with his head tilted, “Most interesting.”

Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as orange sparks began to appear out of thin air, forming a circle and then a portal out of which a man with a weird beard walks through. He nods at Steven and walks over to you, “So you’re the one huh?”

“No, your mom is.” You snarl, “Yes. Doctor Strange, I’ve heard of you.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, “Am I a common topic of conversation in the multiverse?”

“When we have to make fun of something yes.” You grin.

He rolls his eyes, “How did you arrive here?”

“Look I'd leave if I could, sir. But my device was taken away by the jerk who sent me here.”

His eyes narrow, “Sent you?”

Shit, you might have said the wrong thing.

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

"So you're not from here." The sorcerer supreme raises his eyebrow at you.

"No, sir." you're shocked at your politeness, but the man demands respect.

"And you cannot go back?"

"No."

"There is only one person now, who is capable of autonomous multiverse travel, America Chavez. And even her powers are not perfect. It is too risky to do this."

"What would you have me do then?" you ask.

"Wait here, there must be a reason you are not glitching. Maybe, you were meant to be sent here." Strange reasons.

His words make sense, honestly, maybe this universe would be your new home. Even back in Nueva York, you had to wear the watch at all times, or you'd be glitching.

But did Miguel know that? Because if he didn't know, then that would mean he'd sent you to your death.

You just nod at what Strange says, his words going in one year and out the other. You miss the way his eyes glint and flash. His shadow moving under him.

"She can stay with us at the tower." Steven puts his hand on your shoulder, looking directly at Strange, no smile on his face. After a few moments, the Doctor nods.

Your spider sense starts to tingle, and you glace at Steven, who only smiles at you. All teeth. Eyes that are blank. Devoid of emotion.

Now that you're here to stay, he looks like he's never been happier.

"You're going to enjoy yourself here, love." he pats your shoulder, "We'll all have a bit of fun."

You need to run.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #marc spector #atsv miguel #father mine #mini miguel<33 #mandela catalogue #atsv

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bamababygirl7 · 10 months

Text

PINNED POST (Please read before following or interacting)

My links: OF Fansly Cashapp Wishlist Kinky Kuriosities Discord Server

I’m a poly little/middle/maso/primal/puppy sub from Bama… War Eagle!!!!!!! 🦅 Although I am a submissive, I am NOT your submissive! NO HONORIFICS PLEASE AND THANK YOU❣️❣️❣️

Do NOT follow or interact with my blog if:

🔞 you are not 18 or older!!! 🔞 I honestly prefer you to be over 21. Anyone that is even 0.001% ok with pedophilia or anyone who thinks that DDlg in any way has to do with incest or pedophilia. I am not on drugs. I’m just tiny so I’m not sure why I attract so many meth blogs but due to personal reasons involving a family member METH BLOGS/SPUN BLOGS DNI

I am a mom to an amazing boy and am def over 21 lol. I love Disney, Star Wars, Marvel, and Harry Potter (even though I don’t support the views of JK Rowling) Yes I’m a big nerd and totally proud of it 😋 I am obsessed with stuffies (mainly bunnies and unicorns), glitter, Princess Jasmine😍😍😍 I also love Belle, Harley Quinn and Hello Kitty🥰 I am completely ADHD and totally impulsive and random. I am super silly and love memes and anything that makes me laugh. I own my own business and have a college degree but sometimes I lack in the common sense department 😂🤣😂

Blank/empty blogs will be blocked. I will block any blog that makes me uncomfortable as well. I’ve gotten really good at using the block feature so follow at your own risk. If I accidentally interact with any blog that is a minor or you think is an unsafe blog, then please let me know.

My posting of anything that contains sexual content or pics of myself is in NO way an invitation to send disgusting messages or pics to my inbox. All reblogs are assumed to be consensual activities among adults. I do NOT want your dick pics. I am NOT going to sext or play with you online. Sorry Charlie… ain’t happenin Captain!!!

I am not looking for a sugar daddy lol or a Daddy Dom!!! I am just here to blog for myself, so if you don’t like what I post, Block me!!!

I’ve put some of my personal tags that I use frequently in the tags of this post to make it easier (mainly for myself) to find certain posts lol Pics tagged me are mine and it is fine to reblog them. I do have a lot of followers that are here more for the educational posts and a lot of littles so I’m going to do better at adding trigger warnings in the tags of posts that I make or reblog so that people can block the tag and not see those posts. I will tag everything that falls under cnc or anything else I think needs a trigger warning with the tag #bamatw. I’ve added these tags in the tags of this post to make it easier.

#me #my asks #fave mutuals #memes are my coping mechanism #kinky memes #just little things #my writing #things i make #psa #important #bamatw #mental health #txt post #music is life #bamababygirl7🥰💞#my tiktok #just silly little thoughts #my txt #memes i made

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anjaelle · 1 year

Note

hii, can you write a dave lisewski x reader where reader is new at school and he volunteers to give her a tour of the school. Dave thinks she is really pretty and wants to be her friend, he asks questions about her and finds out that she likes comics and superhero’s just like he does and he asks her to come to his house after school to watch a new marvel movie that just came out. she says yes and they watch the movie at his house. during the movie dave just can’t keep his eyes off of her and he’s so in love with her even though he just met her.The movie ends and he walks her home because it’s getting late and he doesn’t want her to possibly get into some kind of danger. when they make it to her house( he finds out that they live close to one another) she thanks him for being so kind to her and kisses him on the cheek. he blushes and wishes her a goodnight. from then on they become great friends and maybe even more. (SORRY THIS IS SO LONG, js wanted it to be detailed so it’s easier for you!!🤭)

@baddestdu0y3t

Pairing: Dave Lizewski x New Girl!Reader

Warnings: None. Except general teen awkwardness?

a/n: Ok so I'll be honest and say that I haven't written for highschool characters since I was a highschooler myself about 10-11 years ago. So I'm admittedly a bit rusty. I probably won't make this a regular thing, because I don't really think I'm good at it haha. And I changed some things around and cut some things out for brevity, but kept the important bits. It kind of feels like a coming-of-age romcom.

(gif source)

--x--

Dave would happily get stabbed and hit by a car twenty more times if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with the current situation he was in. He'd dripped oil from his bacon egg and cheese in his lap, and tried to clean the stain with soap and water, which created an almost bigger stain. The hand dryer in the mens room wasn't working, there were no paper towels, and he was running late to homeroom. Todd gave him a sympathetic pat on the back and offered the ever-helpful comment, "Don't freak. It'll dry eventually."

But it'd been a half hour, and it hadn't dried completely. A few people passed him with looks of disgust.

This day was already turning out to be shit, and it was only 9 AM. He shoved his head in his locker, wishing that a sinkhole would form in the middle of the school and swallow him whole. As the hallway cleared, he noticed you looking down at at a paper and distractedly walking in one direction before turning a corner and disappearing. You then turned back around and walked past him again in the other direction, with a furrowed brow and a pouting lower lip. When you turned to pass him a third time, he closed his locker and awkwardly leaned up against it.

"Hey! Are you lost?" He nearly shouted at you. You stopped short, startled out of whatever daze you were in, and looked at him as if you didn't even notice there was another person in the hall until now. Any plans he had to have a normal conversation left him immediately. He cut his eyes away from you. It was like staring into the sun.

"Hi." You re-adjusted your bag on your shoulder, "And yeah. This school is way bigger than my old one and I'm kinda turned around."

"Oh, yeah, totally, for sure. It's--yeah, it's big." He said awkwardly pulling at the straps of his backpack, "I mean, the school is big. The halls are big. It's a maze. Even I still get lost sometimes, and I've been here almost 4 years."

God, Dave, shut the fuck up.

You giggled at him and he felt his cheeks warm at the sound of it.

"Um, can you help me?" You asked, quirking your head to get a better look at him.

"Sure. Yeah, I can walk you to your next class."

You smiled at him and he smiled back, revealing the cutest dimples you'd ever seen.

"What about your class?"

He peeked at your schedule and his brows disappeared under the curls on his forehead, "We have the same homeroom. So we'll be going the same way."

He was very different from the boys you talked to at your previous school. You thought of what your old friends would say about him. You weren't super popular or anything, but you navigated most social spaces with relative ease. It also meant hiding a lot of yourself. Dave had a kind face and warm eyes that studied you with a sense of eager curiosity that flattered you. Incidentally, you were curious about him too.

When you introduced yourself to him and shook his hand, you noticed immediately how strong his grip was and his calloused palms. Most guys you knew with hands like those played contact sports. He didn't seem like the type, at first glance. He seemed to notice your surprise but didn't quite understand the reason behind it.

"Sorry if my hands are sweaty," he said, instinctively wiping them on his pants.

You rushed to ease his fears, "No they weren't! You're fine." And then, "Do you play sports?"

"Nope. I mean...sometimes I play Wii Tennis. I don't know if that counts though."

You giggled again, "I think that counts."

Interesting. Maybe he did woodworking or mechanic stuff like your dad. You made a mental note for later.

You both strolled down the hall in no real rush to make it to your destination as you talked. He was incredibly animated and spoke with his hands when he got into the groove of the conversation. And when you talked about your old school or your family, he actively listened and asked even more questions.

"You're really cool," he finally said, breathlessly. If you could visibly blush, you're sure you would've. You've been called a lot of things, but never "cool" with such earnestness. "I just wish I'd met you when I didn't have bacon stains on my pants."

He looked down at himself again and grimaced at his own misfortune. You could almost laugh at how resigned he was. Like this was just an everyday thing he had to deal with.

"You could just do what the girls do when we have stains on our pants," you suggested. He quirked a questioning brow and you motioned with your hands. "Tie your hoodie around your waist. It'll hide the stain pretty well, I think."

His eyes widened like you'd revealed the secrets of the universe to him, "I...didn't even think of that."

He immediately took his backpack off and dropped it to the ground to unzip his hoodie. When you noticed his tee shirt, you heard an eager gasp slip from you before you could really stop it. His shirt had the different sketched out iterations of Batman's costume designs over the years, which included a mix of his comic and movie suits.

"I just really like your shirt." You explained as he tied his sweater around his waist. "I was raised in a DC household. My dad has a big box of old school batman comics in our basement that I used to poke through when I was a kid."

His face lit up at your confession, "You like comic books?"

"I used to. I mostly just watch the movies now. The good ones, anyway." You said, shrugging. In truth, you hadn't picked a comic up since middle school. You missed reading them sometimes, but you never really had anyone to talk about them with. So you just stopped. You explained as much to him and he hummed in thought.

"Well, you can always talk about them with me. Do you like Marvel, too?"

You scrunched your nose up at him and he gasped.

"I'm sorry," you couldn't help but laugh at his dismayed expression, "I just think most Marvel movies are corny. And the comics can be a little soap opera-y to me. Maybe I'll give the comics another try, but I don't think I've seen any recent movies other than Black Panther and Thor Ragnarok."

When he thought about it, he couldn't really blame you for feeling that way, "If you had to choose, would you say that those were your favorites?"

"Nope," you admitted, "My favorite is Captain America: The Winter Soldier."

"And not Civil War? That one's my favorite."

You shook your head as you both approached the door to your homeroom, "I may have only seen it in parts. I don't really remember it."

He bounced on the balls of his feet nervously and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well if you wanted...we could watch it at my house next Saturday. Only if you want. My dad and my friend Todd will be there, so it won't be just us. But they won't be weird either. At least, I don't think so."

You smiled at him as he babbled on, only reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "Let me ask my mom. She might ask for your dad's number, if that's okay?"

A small smile graced his pretty face.

He nodded, "Totally."

Todd wasn't super happy with the idea of you joining their movie night. But Dave watched him warm up to you until you were both practically friends, too. He felt a twinge of jealousy at how quickly you two got along, but he summed that up to just how friendly and easy to talk to you were. He knew the movie front to back, so he couldn't help but watch you study the movie with deep interest to see how you reacted to his favorite parts. When all was said and done, the three of you sat in the living room discussing Civil War and if you were Team Cap or Team Stark. You all seemed to be in agreement that Tony was a war criminal who indoctrinated child soldiers. But you all were in disagreement about whether Tony deserved to have his ass kicked by two super soldiers.

"He literally didn't even know that he did anything wrong!" You argued to Todd, who rolled his eyes.

"You're only saying that about Bucky because you think he's hot."

"Maybe so," you admitted, "but my point still stands. He was brainwashed, he wasn't responsible."

"So you wouldn't be upset if I killed your parents, and Dave knew but hid it from you, and then beat you up when you found out?" The blond asked, popping a pretzel in his mouth, "I dunno. I'd be pretty upset."

"That's different, Dave would tell me." You responded with a coy wink at your new best friend.

Todd groaned, "You think he'd throw me under the bus for you?"

"I mean--" Dave cut in, pushing himself from the couch to stand to his feet and stretch, "--she is really pretty. And she smells nice. You're not as pretty and you just smell like Axe."

Todd gasped in mock hurt and you motioned to yourself as if to say "look at the material."

When 9:00 hit, you said goodbye to Dave's father who invited you and your family back for dinner, and hugged Todd goodbye.

"You're still wrong about Tony." He mumbled.

"You're in denial."

"You're In denial."

When you broke away to hug Dave he hesitated, "I was going to walk you home if that's okay with you. No pressure. I just...Uber is expensive on Saturday nights, and I know you don't live too far. But I don't want you to feel unsafe."

You noticed Todd shoot an odd glance at Dave before schooling his features. You made another mental note, but nodded.

"Sure, thanks."

You still weren't used to how long city blocks were. So even though you lived only a few blocks away, it felt like so much longer. Despite everything, you were surprised by how quiet this section of Manhattan was at night. Some people milled about, either going to or coming from someplace else. The air was brisk enough to add a jolt of energy to your system, but it still wasn't so cold that you felt any rush to get home.

"So what's up with the callouses?" You suddenly asked. Dave seemed confused by the question, so you grabbed his hand and held it up to him, then turned his hands over to show his reddened knuckles.

"Oh. I-I'm a...boxer. I box." He stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Only my dad and Todd don't know. So don't, like, bring it up around them. They'd freak out."

You hummed, "Okay."

He let out a sigh of relief. A sharp gust of wind from a passing wind tunnel chilled you to the bone, and you looped your arm through his.

"Oh!" You said, surprised.

"Are you cold?" He leaned in closer to you, "We can walk faster if you want."

"I just..my hands are a bit cold." That didn't explain the way you were wrapped around his arm like a boa constrictor. But he didn't seem to mind. He shifted his hand in his sweater pocket.

"There's some room."

You felt your stomach flutter when his hand brushed against yours in his sweater pocket. The flutter turned into a rapid thud when his fingers laced through yours. Despite how ice cold your hands were, he didn't pull away.

"Is that okay?" He asked, shyly, fully prepared to move his hand if you objected. You gave his fingers a small squeeze.

"It's great, actually."

You carried on the casual conversation for another few blocks before stopping at a newly renovated brownstone. He realized then that your family definitely had more money than his.

"Here we are."

You slipped your hand out of his grasp when you realized you still had it in his pocket.

"So...I'll see you monday?" He asked, fidgeting with a loose piece of string on his sleeve.

"Of course."

"Awesome."

"Yeah."

You looked him over one last time before you parted ways. He was your first real friend since you moved, but you still felt like there was so much about him that you didn't know. Not because he was particularly secretive, but because you felt like there was more to him than he let on. You unconsciously reached up and moved a curl away from his eyes. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, in response.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," you said, "I just think you're really cool, Dave Lizewski."

His smile bloomed into a wide grin, exposing the deep dimples in his cheeks. "You're cool, too. Probably the coolest person I know, actually."

Your heart was thudding in your ears when you leaned up to press a gentle, lingering kiss to his cheek. Before you pulled away, you heard him gasp softly in surprise.

You suddenly felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and checked to see that it was your mom asking where you were.

You usually let your mom know ahead of time when you were on your way home, but you felt uncharacteristically out of sorts. You shot her a quick text letting her know you were outside.

"I hate to do this," you said, finally breaking him out of his stupor, "I really have to go now. Mom's asking questions. Text me when you get home, okay, Curly?"

You gently touched his arm and climbed the steps of your house to the front door. He gave you a weak thumbs up, but he still stared at you with a shocked, flushed face. "G-gotcha."

"And don't forget."

"I won't. I promise."

When you finally shut the door behind you, you peeked out of the small eyehole to watch as he touched his face in surprise and walked down the street in the wrong direction.

#jaelle writes #aaron taylor johnson x black!reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 3 months

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Fate's Plans (Wanda Maximoff X Male!Reader)

Characters: Wanda Maximoff X Male!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers (Takes place sometime after AOU)

Warnings: Pregnancy, vague mentions of birth, bit of swearing

Could you write Wanda x male!reader, it’s just fluff really if that’s ok. Wanda and the reader find out they’re pregnant and the fic’s about their time throughout the pregnancy and after their child is born. Maybe the reader kinda freaks out a bit and Wanda finds it really funny/cute.

There were a lot of people who believed that finding true love was an act of fate. If it happened to you, you’d know immediately, and it would become a story to tell your kids and grandkids beside the person you were destined to grow old with. Wanda was one of those people. She believed with all her whole heart that her parents' meeting was fate, even if it meant that they would die young, leaving behind her and Pietro. However, she also believed that this fate wasn’t ever going to happen to her. Life was too cruel- why would life beat her down so hard so far just to throw her a bone now? And she was okay with that. She believed this so hard, that it actually took her a while to realise that she was wrong. Fate did have other plans for her, and the love of her life was already with her.

Wanda only realised it was you, was when she watched you excitedly calling her name repeatedly, getting a little quieter as you got close and closer, beaming as you proceeded to hand her a cloth bag that fit in her hand, and watched excitedly as she opened it, finding several stones, shells and even sea glass, and you went on to explain that on your PTO (Because you’d gotten injured on a mission and should have been resting) you’d gone to the coast with some family and gathered some trinkets because you thought she’d like it. She didn’t like it. She loved it, and she loved that you had thought of her and did this. That’s why immediately after, she asked you to dinner, and your eyes widened, not expecting that, before stuttering out an acceptance.

She was surprised it took her so long for herself to realise how special you were. You were an agent of SHIELD, and had been for two years, starting just a year after Wanda became an Avenger. Being young, and a rookie, you got a lot of teasing, especially from people like Clint and Tony, but you took it all in your stride and with a smile. You were always kind, eager to help, which on first appearance made you appear a bit of an airhead or gullible, but oh boy, was that wrong- Tony learnt that the hard way, when he tried to prank you by putting you in charge of checking over his security software for any faults, bugs, or cyber attacks, him already having it planned out for you to be overwhelmed and for FRIDAY to mimic an actual attack to scare you, only for you to handle it, and actually catch a bug in the system. All of which you announced to Tony in front of several other Avengers, including Wanda. Not long after, you ended up being assigned on a mission with Natasha, Clint and Steve, and come back with the three gobsmacked, and then tell a story of you being the most competent and well trained agent any of them had actually worked with. That kind of complimentary talk really boosts you up the ranks, it turns out, and soon Wanda was able to see it first hand.

But out of missions, you were that kind, slightly silly person. You always asked about her day, complimented her on her recent mission, and eventually, you began giving gifts- getting her coffee in the morning, then also a bit of breakfast, then snacks, and eventually your gifts moved from food and drinks to finding DVDs of obscure movies she mentioned wanting to watch again, or fixing things for her in your down time. Your sewing skills on her cardigans and skirts were far from professional, but they worked as intended, and it was a lovely gesture. Wanda practically slapped herself when she realised these were your ways of trying to show you liked her.

As soon as you two actually started dating, everything just clicked. Your acts of love and affection didn’t slow down at all, except now the coffee and breakfast was something you grabbed together, you kept her favourite snacks at yours for when she came over, and she did the same for you, and dates between you was basically anytime you two got to be alone together- which was whenever you two had time after work, or after a mission, where you two just cuddled and relaxed after it all. The only real problem was the part where you two would be at work and be teased by your team for being kids in love, but it was all in good fun. The team was fully supportive. They saw how happy you made Wanda, and how well you two clicked. It was worth the aww’s and teasing whenever you told each other you loved each other or shared a look across a room. This did get a little better though when you two actually moved in together a year and half into your relationship, though now the team would regularly question when you two were gonna get married already.

Imagine the team's surprise when Wanda announced that she was going on desk work for the next few months- because you two were having a baby.

“You know, there’s still time for a shotgun wedding.” Tony commented, walking past Wanda as she was sitting reading a mission report, also enjoying some baby carrots, the bowl balanced on her belly that had grown a lot the last few months.

“Not happening Tony. Knowing my luck, I’ll go into labour while saying my vows.” She commented, not looking up.

“You don’t even have to walk down an aisle or anything- we get you a white dress, get Y/N in a suit- can’t Captains officiate weddings? I own boats, that counts, right?” Tony questioned.

“Tony, we know you just want another party. I have no clue how you’re still functioning after what you pulled at the baby shower.” Natasha commented, coming in the room to give Wanda new forms, before taking the ones from her. “Now leave her alone, before I tell Clint.” She warned. Tony raised his hands in surrender, before leaving the room. “Now you.”

“I haven’t done anything.” Wanda defended.

“Other than you’re supposed to be working from home? You’re due any day now.” Natasha pointed out.

“Exactly- Y/N got dragged off to that mission the other day and isn’t back yet- if I go into labour at home, I’m by myself.” She pointed out.

“And if Y/N finds out you’re not following doctor’s orders, he’s gonna be irate.” She pointed out. Wanda knew she was right. Ever since Wanda had shown you the test results, you somehow became even more affectionate, even more loving, but also now protective. You always tried to not be overbearing on her and get on her nerves- she was the one actually going through it after all. You made sure her snack stash, which adjusted to her cravings, was always well stocked. As the pregnancy progressed, you switched chores- her doing any that she could do with minimal moving or while sat on a stool, and you did anything that would cause her any back pain. You set the nursery up together, you doing the painting, and Wanda put together most of the furniture, not having to do any heavy lifting thanks to her powers, though every few weeks you could come home to the nursery reorganised because she wasn’t happy about some aspects of it- the cot too far away from the door, the chair too far away from the cot, the cot and chair are too close together. Eventually she settled on a layout.

When Wanda entered her 3rd Trimester, was when you became a true worrier. If she showed any discomfort, you were by her side to try and help, and with every day closer to the due date, Wanda could tell you were getting more anxious- she blamed all the books and research you did pretty early on in her pregnancy, which led you down a rabbit hole about risks and worst case scenarios, though you didn’t want to talk about it with her- as to not worry her. That stress really showed when you found out about your current mission, and Wanda saw you actually raise your voice at Fury for sending you on it, knowing the situation. In the end, Fury could not reassign who was on the mission, but he did extend your leave after the baby’s birth by 2 months. Wanda promised to keep the baby in till you came back, and Natasha, Clint and Bruce promised to look after Wanda and also to keep Tony on a leash.

“Have you heard anything from them on how the mission’s going?” Wanda inquired, trying to change the subject.

“Got a vague text from Steve saying ‘nearly done’ early this morning, but other than that, nothing, but knowing how effective Steve, Thor and Y/N work together, I’m expecting them back tonight.” She told Wanda. “In other words, you have until tonight to get home, or I'm telling.”

“I can handle Y/N being a little annoyed at me being here- I want to see him as soon as he gets back, not a second longer.” Wanda decided, resting her head back in her chair. Natasha felt a buzz in her pocket, pulling her phone out, before grinning and putting it away.

“Well better get moving- they’re already landing.”

You were exhausted from the mission, but eager to get off the jet and get to Wanda. You didn’t like the idea on her being alone, both in the day and at night while due any moment- you heard a lot of labours start at night, and you’d had a nightmare while on your mission of Wanda waking up in the middle of the night with contractions, no one answering her calls because they were asleep, and an ambulance not getting to her for hours. You didn’t want that, so the best spot for you was by her side.

As soon as Steve landed the plane, you were off it, stripping off harnesses, belts and gear as you walked, rushing inside the building for the quicked debrief which you planned to mostly consist of ‘I’ll do the paperwork later’ talk, only to spot Wanda shuffling towards you, right beside Natasha, who sent an apologetic smile. You dumped your gear on the spot and ran to her. “You okay? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.” You fussed, taking Wanda in your arms, seeing her face for any discomfort- any sign she was having contractions or in labour- but she just smiled back at you.

“Figured me being here meant having people around, so even if I went into labour, I wouldn’t be alone.” She pointed out. You sighed, your shoulders relaxing, the comment actually soothing that horrible thought that had been haunting your dreams. It was almost like-

“Have you been reading my mind again?” You asked her.

“Only when your thoughts are so loud, I can hear them without telepathy. You worry too much, my love.” She told you, resting her hand on your cheek.

“And now that you’re home- go take her home before we have to have Bruce deliver your kid- I’m not sure if Bruce could handle that stress. I’ll handle the debrief and Fury. Enjoy your last few days of peace for the next few years.” Steve commented as he walked past you both. You jokingly saluted him, and did as told.

As soon as you got home, got Wanda settled and got the chores done that needed to be done, you joined your girlfriend in your bed, putting on one of the old DvDs of an old sitcom Wanda loved that she got you addicted to as well. “Tony giving you any trouble?” You asked.

“Other than wanting us to have a shotgun wedding so he can get as wasted as he did at our baby shower? No… how did he even get that drunk?” Wanda asked.

“If I had to guess… Thor and his flask of Asguardian alcohol. But then again I wouldn’t put it past him to figure out where we ordered our chocolates and got alcohol laced ones and ate them all to himself… can you imagine him getting drunk at our daughter’s Christmas Nativity? Or her toddler ballet classes?” You humoured, making Wanda laugh.

“Oh, I think you mean our son’s Christmas Nativity and his toddler ballet classes. This, is a boy.” She said, tapping her stomach.

“Hmmm, I still think for a girl, little Wanda Jr.” You told her, leaning over to kiss her bump.

“If it is a girl, we are not calling her Wanda Jr.” She grinned, and you hummed. “You sure you’re okay with Pietro for a boy?” She asked.

“Of course I am. Has been since we talked about it 6 months ago. Hell if it is a girl, we can have Petra, or something.” You suggested, wrapping an arm around her. “I wish I could have met him. I bet he would have been the best uncle… and also he’d join Tony in the shotgun wedding idea.” You commented, making her chuckle.

“Yeah, he would… I think he’d love you though, he’d want us to marry just to gain you as a brother.” She added. “Anyway, one episode, then bed, I’m tired from looking at paper all day, and don’t lie to me about being tired yourself.” She told you. You agreed to that, but ended up falling asleep not even half way through.

However, you did wake up to Wanda shaking your arm. “Hmm? Yeah? Need water? The bathroom?” You asked on autopilot, before you became more aware of your surroundings, realising Wanda was already out of bed… a bed, that was wet.

“Get dressed and take me to the hospital- my water broke.” She told you, keeping her voice low as she brushed her hair out before clipping it back. You stared at her, processing her words, before it clicked. Hospital. Water. Broke. Labour. Baby. Now.

“Oh fuck we’re doing this!” You announced, jumping out of bed, rushing to grab clothes from your drawers to get dressed, while Wanda watched you, happy in her pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown as you hurried to get half decent, before grabbing her to-go bag from the chair in the corner, taking her by the arm and escorting outside to drive her to the hospital. “Let me know when you feel a contraction- have you felt any yet? Have you timed them? Your water breaking means it’s gonna speed up.” You requested as you drove.

“Had a few in bed- thought they were braxton hicks, but then my water broke, so I woke you up. I wasn’t timing them, but I will now- hold on.” She said, her voice becoming strained as she grabbed the door and your arm, and you pulled over and looked at her. “No, drive! Contraction!” She ordered.��

“Oh! Right, sorry!” You apologised, taking off again. Wanda already knew this was going to be an experience, and a story to tell later with you right there.

Boy was she right. From getting there, to getting her checked into the maternity ward, all attempts to hold back on being dramatically worried was forgotten. At all times, you had some sort of contact with Wanda, whether that was holding her as she walked around, letting her squeeze your hand through contractions, rubbing her back to help with pains, or hugging her and telling her she was doing amazing, you were there. You were there every step of the way, all attention on her, checking in on her, making sure she was as comfortable as she could be, and being a rock. You made the whole thing go as smoothly as they could, and Wanda was thankful for that. She wasn’t sure she could do it without you. But eventually, it was over, and she had her baby in her arms. She looked over at you, sat beside her, arms leant on the siderails, looking at your daughter, mesmerized, before looking up at Wanda. “She’s so small.” You whispered, making her smile.

“Get over here and hold her, you dork.” She told you, shuffling over as much as she could so you could partially lay with her, taking your daughter in your arms, and looking down at her, before once again turning to Wanda, this time kissing her head.

“My girls. My beautiful girls, my whole world.” You told her, and she smiled, resting her head on you as you got comfortable with your baby, who was sound asleep in your arms, like she’d been the one doing all the hard work. “I knew you were a girl. Dreamt about it all the time- my little girl who looks just like her beautiful mom.” You told the baby in your arms.

“So, what are we naming her? And don’t say Wanda Jr.” She questioned.

“Thought we already agreed? Petra, right? Unless you want that as a first name, in which case, we could do what Clint did for you and name her after him. What’s the female version of Clint? Clinton?... Cli-”

“Don’t finish that thought, you’re too sleep deprived. Petra’s fine.” She told you, already seeing where exactly you were going, even if you didn’t. “Anyway, you should probably go tell the others- let Tony know a shotgun wedding is no longer an option but he can throw a party anyway.” She told you.

“Alright, I can do that. Want me to put our baby down to sleep so you can get some rest? I’ll make sure they don’t come around till late morning.” You told her, kissing her head as she nodded, and you put Petra in her cot beside Wanda.

“And as soon as you’re done, get back here, I want more hugs, even if it’s cramped.” She told you, getting a playful salute like how you had done to Steve earlier, before you grabbed your phone to step out and share the good news. Wanda rolled onto her side to look at her daughter, reaching out to put her arm into her cot, running a finger across her cheek.

Hope you like it! I wrote this in about 2-3 hours in one sitting so if there's mistakes please let me know. If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero@originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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kkl1nch0r · 6 months

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title: sealed with a kiss (jingyuan x gender neutral reader)

notes: ok but not me shapeshifting and writing hsr content that i barely have any comprehension of???hsr as a whole??? so i try my best when i write this stuff. help me. i had FUN WITH THIS. giggling and shit when i wrote this HAHAHAHA

Fingers across a chessboard. The satisfied sigh from the general next to you. The rustling of the trees, their branches bearing the endless yellow that was nothing but background noise.

All of this came to your mind when you looked at the chessboard, locked in a battle of ecstasy and anticipation-- Jing Yuan, general of the Xianzhou Luofu, looking smug at the pieces. He's baited you into "sparring practice" with his disciple, yet Yanqing himself is nowhere to be seen.

The game seemed to be ending, and you bit back a gasp-- the pieces themselves had been in your victory, why had they turned against you now? Jing Yuan looked sincerely pleased, having beaten his accomplice at yet another round of chess.

"Checkmate," he calls, and you lean back, sighing. It was always like this: yours, defeated, and his, victorious. But you found yourself anticipating the general's genius moves, and had even sometimes put him in a position where it took several minutes for him to make his next move.

"Another round?" you asked, forgetting the "sparring practice." The pieces rearranged themselves back into place-- yours black, his white-- and stood right into rigid position.

"Why not?" Jing Yuan replied, fingers hovering idly over the pieces. He looked lost in thought: looking at the chessboard, mind straying somewhere else.

Then he smirked. And you knew.

"Let's make this a contest," he proposed casually, taking a piece and placing it one square unit forward. The soldier piece stood there, your eyes catching on it. "The winner gets to request whatever they wish from the loser."

Your heart caught in your chest. This was an opportunity that rarely came by; getting personal grants of request from the general was not common. You marveled at Jing Yuang's resolve, having said something so bold who held themselves in such high regard. A king against a pawn.

"Oh?" you asked. "And what limit may those requests have, if I ask?" "

Jing Yuan paused, eyes on the chess piece. You sat there in awe, remembering what he'd said to you days ago when you actually doing sparring practice.

"Eyes on the pawn, mind on the prize," he had said, smiling. "The prize would never know they're the prize, either."

Jing Yuan stared at you. You stared right back.

"Anything," the general said finally. "Free to request anything you wish. So, what is yours?"

You shrugged; it wasn't as if you were going to win-- but it was rather tempting, to request something the general could not grant.

Your mind whirred, thinking of all the possible things the general could not, would not, fulfill.

And you'd found just the thing.

"A kiss," you announced smugly, crossing your arms, then taking one of your chest pieces to mimic Jing Yuan's previous move. "If I win, you give me a kiss."

Jing Yuan froze, but then he regained composure before throwing back his head a bit and facing the sky. "Ha!"

You'd drawn a blank as to where you'd gone wrong as Jing Yuan laughed, wiping fake tears from his eyes. Then he was still, his eyes meeting yours-- for his oppressors, the look would have chilled them.

"That's funny," he said quietly. "Because that was exactly what I would request of you. Let's start."

You sat there, shell-shocked, as the general made his next move.

The next few minutes were tough. Every change you made to the chessboard reflected what was to come. Your mind incanted one word: kiss, kiss, kiss. It seemed to cloud your thoughts as the rest of the match flew by.

Jing Yuan huffed, but it confused you; you didn't know whether it was one of exasperation or complacency. A few pieces rolled off the board, followed by another, another, another...

It was a rough match; it seemed that you worked under pressure, and your moves perfectly opposed each of the generals... it was the final move, you were so close to victory, there were only a few pieces left, and...

"Checkmate."

But it was not you who said the word, it was Jing Yuan, and you sat there, in awe and in wonder...how had he dominated the chess game so quickly? You were stunned, as Jing Yuan sat across from you, eyeing the chess pieces like he'd fought well.

"Eyes on the pawn, mind on the prize," Jing Yuan said, extending a hand. "Good game."

Without thinking, you took his hand to shake it, but Jing Yuan yanked you in--

The kiss was something. Your mind had just drawn a blank, trapped in endless white space as Jing Yuan had placed his lips against yours. The only thing anchoring your consciousness was the intense pounding of your heart. You'd lost, and he won, and here was, doing what he'd requested, it was so--

Jing Yuan lost air first, as he pulled away, face smug. You exhaled, trying to calm yourself down, and sighed.

He'd kissed you. The general of the Xianzhou had kissed you. You yearned more, but that was...certainly something. Something no words could describe. Warm and stirring, perhaps?

There was a lot of steam to let out after that. Sword glittering at your hip, you unsheathed it, bringing the blade to the light.

"Care for some sparring practice?"

#honkai star rail #jing yuan honkai star rail #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #gendern neutral reader #xianzhou luofu #xianzhou luofu hsr #hsr fanfic #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #jiayun's ugly writing

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weirdmarioenemies · 7 months

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Name: Buboo

Debut: Kirby: Squeak Squad

Bubbles! Heehee! Hoohoo! What fun! I love bubbles a lot. They are not only fun, but really amazing things! Perfect wobbly orbs of gas, encased in a beautiful shine, sometimes flying around, sometimes just descending, sometimes even landing on the grass or your finger without popping, and it's like a magical moment of connection with an entity so different from you!

Sometimes they pop. This fragile and beautiful marvel of science, suddenly eliminated forever from existence. And that's ok! It's part of the fun! The world will never run out of bubbles, so feel free to obliterate them as you please! You can always make more, whether it's with a bubble wand, your own lips and saliva, or even by a happy little accident, squeezing a bottle of dish soap in just the right way to release a little tiny hovering wonder.

This all being said, I do not love bubbles as much as Buboo does. Buboo may be the number one bubbles fan. With the ability to create spit bubbles, I may be a Bubble Elemental, but even I cannot create enough bubbles to encase myself, and fly! I would if I could! Buboo literally lives at bubbles.

You will notice, however, that I cannot say Buboo IS bubbles. It is among bubbles, but it is not one of them! Like some kind of impostor. But who could this be? Who is red, and has eyes? A scarlet macaw? An angry sunburned dad? Red Jumbo Josh With Four Arms Plush? There are so many things that are red and have eyes! It's going to take me forever to dig through this pile of things that are red and have eyes. I can't eat them all by myself! I'm worried we'll never find out what Buboo's true form is after all...

Hi. I'm just playing around with you here. I know what it is.

It's a little crab! Isn't that a wonderful result? Once its bubbles are all popped, Buboo will fall to the ground and run around, continuing to blow bubbles as a final attack until defeated. I think Squeak Squad, which was my first Kirby game, may have been my first exposure to crabs blowing bubbles in media. I don't think I made the connection, and thought it was just an "elemental animal" without much deeper meaning (besides being really cool and cute, of course). But crabs and bubbles are best friends in real life!

You probably know that some crabs blow bubbles on land! But do you know why? They're not in distress or trying to intimidate another creature or anything. They're just breathing! When a crab breathes out through wet gills, it often comes out as bubbles. It doesn't serve any real purpose, but nothing wrong with bubbles! Also, I like to imagine an exhausted crab sighing, but only bubbles come out, and the sigh is only heard once the bubbles pop. Imagine it. It's whimsical.

Obviously, there is no actual crab that uses bubbles for locomotion... but there is a really awesome snail that does!

This is the violet sea snail! It creates bubbles using its slime, and makes an entire raft out of them, which it spends its whole life attached to upside-down, drifting at the ocean's surface! If you are stranded on an island in an ocean, as a human, you should absolutely not set off on nothing but a raft. But snails are different, and this snail eats Portuguese Men O' War, so clearly it knows what it's doing.

In conclusion, bubbles are so epic and awesome! They are delights and pockets of whimsy to us humans, and to some creature, they are an entire livelihood! I didn't even mention spittlebugs on this post. If you don't know spittlebugs, you should go learn about them! That is your homework. You get a passing grade if you smile at the thought of a spittlebug. Have fun!

#buboo #kirby #kirby squeak squad #kirby enemies #not mario #funky friday #crab #crabs #snail #snails #violet sea snail #mod chikako

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 1 year

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For the romantic dialogue prompt 11. “Don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words.” Nat is in love with reader but doesn’t want to say it because she doesn’t think reader will feel the same/she’s insecure and doesn’t think she deserves reader. Ofc reader loves Nat (who wouldn’t?) and they get together and live happily ever after. lots of hurt/comfort

Authors note: sorry its so late, but I hope you enjoy it!

Authors note 2.0: requests are still closed. I’m trying to clear my inbox before opening them again. Thank you for your patience 💖

Word count: 3251 Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Natashas heart hammers in her chest as she runs down the compound's various hallways. The quinjet landed only minutes ago so she's racing to make it to the med bay where she knows the team, and therefore you will be.

As she enters through the double doors the sound of Peter sniffling coupled with the crestfallen looks on Tony and Clints faces tell her all her worst fears are coming true, and she almost doesn’t want to face that. But she knows she has to. If not for herself, then for you. She can be strong for you.

“How- how is she?”

Tony lowers his gaze, “Not good. She got hit really hard out there.”

“We honestly didn’t think we’d get her back in time. She's very lucky.” Clint admits, looking at Nat in a way the billionaire had never seen before. If he had to describe it he’d say it was a mix of stern disappointment yet hopeful encouragement. How a person can combine those looks is beyond him, but he's sure it's some sort of signal. A way for the two spies to communicate without words like they so often do.

“Y/ns strong.” the redhead proclaims, trying to calm herself, “She’ll be ok.”

Clint looks away from her then too and she can feel her stomach drop and her mouth go dry at his lack of agreement and comfort. She swallows harshly, desperate to keep her tears at bay. If she doesn't cry then she can act like this doesn’t affect her, like none of this is really happening. You aren’t in some operating room right now hanging on against the odds, fighting for your life. She's not head over heels in love with you, desperate to be yours and be by your side forever…But you are, and she is.

She very much is, and right now she can’t help but feel like an absolute moron. Despite her fears and insecurities she should have risked it. Maybe then she would have had time with you. To hold you, to cherish and love you and get the same from you in return. But now…no, no she can’t think like that. You’ll be ok. You have to be, because if you're not, then she won’t be.

“I’m so sorry Miss Romanoff” Peter whimpers, and her head swivels to look at him, “I really messed up. Y/ns hurt because of me….I’m so so sorry”

Natasha doesn’t know what happened out there, but she knows your affinity for the boy, how you became attached to him nearly the second Tony brought him in. So much so that your protectiveness for him rivals the fatherly instincts the billionaire himself has for the young hero. And she knows Peter, she's been training him, so she knows him better than he even thinks she does. He doesn’t always watch his six and he would never hurt a teammate on purpose, least of all you. This was an accident. Sometimes missions just went wrong, it wasn’t anyone's fault but the enemies and she knows you wouldn’t want Peter to be blaming himself for this.

“Malen'kiy pauk(little spider), Y/n would do anything to keep you safe. Whatever happened was not your fault, because you've done nothing wrong.”

Faster than humanly possible Peter launches himself into her arms, and as his head comes to rest against her shoulder she finally lets her resolve crumble. Hot tears run down her cheeks faster than she ever thought imaginable, and she hopes Peter can't feel the sheer volume that's landing against his neck, though she knows he wouldn't say anything about it even if he did.

“She's hurt really bad” Peter whimpers out through his sobs, “She might be dying”

Natasha desperately shakes her head, “No. She'll pull through.”

A few moments of silence pass before she's brave enough to speak again, “She…she’ll pull through. She has to. I- I need her to be ok.”

Finally Clint comes over and wraps his arms around the two of them. He knows by the way Natasha trembles that she’s close to her absolute breaking point. And he's not sure that she’d be comfortable being that vulnerable in front of Tony and Peter, even if the genius absolutely knew about the not so secret pining. And of course the teen had his own suspicions. Nat was secretive when it came to emotions, and she had her reasons to be. So he’ll do what he can to help her keep some comfort.

She clutches onto the archers shirt as if it were her lifeline, and he tentatively squeezes her shoulder to prove he's there for her. He’ll be her rock whenever she needs him to be, it's been this way since she opened up to him all those years ago and he’ll happily let it stay that way until the very end. He considers it an honor that she trusts him enough to let him see this perceived weaker version of herself.

“Tell me she'll pull through Clint, please.”

He sighs, the answer won’t be what she wants to hear and it will break her further, but he owes the truth to her. He can’t give her false hope. She needs to be prepared. “I wish I could Nat, truly. But she really was in a really bad state when we got her here. If Tony hadn’t flown her here from the quinjet I don’t know if she would have been breathing”

Sure enough a sob escapes her, and her trembling only worsens as Peter all but collapses against her. Clint holds them up to the best of his ability while sparing an urgent glance in Tony's direction. The older man quickly makes his way over to the three and gently loops his arms under Peters.

“C'mon kid. I got ya. Let's get you sitting down, alright?”

Peter only manages to nod as Tony walks away with him, leading him back to where he’d first been sat. Natasha allows Clint to fully envelope her in his embrace then, and she finds the guilt of all the possibilities that could have been between the two of you is crashing down on her shoulders with the weight of cinder blocks.

“I never told her” she whispers into his chest, and he doesn’t ask for clarification because he knows all too well what she means. He'd been trying to convince her to admit her feelings for years now, “I need more time…I just wasn’t ready, but I should have pushed myself. I should have found a way to make her understand even if I can’t say the words.”

He pulls back from her, places his hands on both her shoulders and looks her dead in the eyes, “Then Natasha, if she makes it through this, that's exactly what you do, ok? You march in there and you do whatever you have to to get your chance.”

Her lower lip quivers, “B- but what do I do if she doesn’t? What if…what if I never get my chance because I was a coward?”

“Oh honey” he coos, pulling her back into a hug, “You were scared. Scared to be loved and to be vulnerable. Scared Y/n wouldn't feel the same. Scared that you wouldn’t know what to do. Scared you didn’t deserve her. And all these are normal feelings somebody has in this kinda situation. Unfortunately the circumstances of your past made those fears even worse for you, that doesn’t make you a coward.”

She looks at him, tears streaming down her reddened face with her lower lip trembling. His heart sinks in his chest seeing her like this. So open and with her feelings, so scared to lose you. He gently wipes her cheeks with his calloused thumbs, “You're the strongest and bravest person I know Nat.”

“I second that statement” Tony speaks up from next to the teen, “And I’m lab partners with the Hulk so i know a thing or two about strength.”

His reply gets a small twitch of her lip and roll of her eyes in response, and he knows that with the way she feels right now that those actions were worth more than a Hollywood actor's showstopping grin. And the fact that he was able to gain that response makes him beam with pride. He cheered her up, if only just a tiny smidge, but he’d gladly take it.

Before anything else can be said by anyone the med bays main doors open, and a doctor steps through. Natashas attention is on him at once, and she quickly approaches, “Is Y/n- er, Agent Y/l/n alright?”

“We’ve got her stable now. It was touch and go there for a bit. Her heart stopped on us once but- ” That's all she registers beforese zones out of the conversation. The same words playing on repeat are all she can focus on. Her heart stopped.

You had died. If anything had happened to slow the quinjet down and keep it from bringing you in then the doctors wouldn't have been there to revive you, and instead of worrying in the med bay she would have been mourning your loss at the landing platform. And that fact terrifies her.

She isn’t even aware that she zoned out for as long as she had until Tony's hand grasps her shoulder, “Nat?”

“W- what?” she stutters, blinking her previous thoughts away while looking around, “I’m sorry”

The doctor nods in understanding, “It’s alright. Agent Y/l/n was successfully resuscitated and though she's currently stable she's still in critical condition. She's still sedated, so that coupled with her original trauma will most likely keep her unconscious for at least the rest of today and potentially into tomorrow.”

“But she’ll be ok, right?” she asks, needing to hear something hopeful

“I'm afraid it’s still too early to tell. For now all we can do is wait and see if she makes it through the night. But if she wakes we can properly assess her.”

The Russian can feel her chest tighten, “If…if she wakes? I don’t understand?”

“She acquired a lot of head trauma. Alone that trauma is enough to potentially keep her comatose, but when you add in the use of anesthesia that risk becomes even higher.” he explains, “Now normally we wouldn’t have used any, but with her multiple stab wounds we were left with no other options.”

Her lower lip trembles as she swallows the lump in her throat, “Can I see her? Please?”

He nods, “Follow me”

When she arrives in your room a feeling of nausea fills her. The room is dull, with its lights dimmed and blinds closed but she can still see you clearly. Your skin is paler than normal, lacking its usual glow and she can already see the swelling and bruising settling in on your face, arms and collarbone. The steady beating of the heart monitor is the only noise that fills the small room, and while normally such a noise would put her on edge she finds it calms her this time, because it tells her that you're still here. You're alive.

Tears roll down her cheeks as her hand makes its way to yours, “Y/n, I...I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here. I’m right here dorogoy(sweetheart), so please don’t go anywhere.”

As the hours pass by she continues to sit with you, she's too afraid to leave your side or let you out of her sight. She worries that if she allows either of those things, then the worst will happen to you. Which rationally she knows is ridiculous, her presence and vigilante watch wouldn’t be enough to stop death from taking you if that's truly what was in store for you. But still, being here with you gives her some small comfort and right now she needs all the comfort she can get.

At some point she had fallen asleep, it had been rather restless as she didn’t want to risk sleeping through anything that may occur, so she forced herself to stay out of her REM cycle. So what little rest she did manage couldn’t even be classified as such really, but it did end up working the way she intended it to.

The faint beeping that she'd become accustomed to suddenly picks up in speed slightly, and her eyes immediately shoot open. She quickly scans the machine to make sure it wasn't malfunctioning and once satisfied they move to you. Nothing appears different, at least not in a bad way. Your skin seems to have gained back a bit more of its natural color and though this relieves her she's still uncertain about your heart rate. Before she can worry any more, a nurse enters.

“What's going on? Is she ok?”

The nurse smiles kindly at her while checking your chart, “She's doing just fine Agent Romanoff, the slight increase in heart rate is a good thing. It means she's trying to wake up”

Natasha can’t hide the excitement that takes over her features, and she grabs your hand once more, “Pozhaluysta, vernis' ko mne. Ty mne nuzhen zdes'(Please come back to me. I need you here.)”

As if hearing, and understanding, her whispered words, your eyelids begin to flutter and though the room is nearly completely dark you still groan at the way the light affects your sensitive eyes. Sensitive or not though there's no mistaking that bright red hair, or who it belongs to. Even if her form is a bit blurry.

“Uggh…Nat?” you rasp out, and she immediately moves closer

“I’m right here” she responds, hoping you don’t notice the tears rolling down her cheeks, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit”

Your honest reply pulls a laugh from her and she gently squeezes your hand as the nurse walks over to your other side to begin checking you over. Once she's done with her various tests and writing notes in her chart she leaves the room, leaving you alone with the Russian you've come to love. Your eyes glance at your hand to see that your suspicions are correct, the weight you feel in your hand is indeed her own. You gently squeeze it before allowing your gaze to meet hers.

“You've been crying” you state, allowing your free hand to brush against her reddened cheek. The way she nuzzles her face into your palm takes you by surprise, but you allow to seek comfort this way and cup her cheek. You watch in awe as her whole body relaxes at this embrace

“I thought…I thought I was going to lose you” she admits in a whisper and her lower lip trembles as she closes her eyes. Despite this another tear slips down her face, but you quickly brush it away. A small whimper leaves her at this gesture, and she leans further into your hand

And that's when things start to click. Sure, you've had your suspicions that the Russian spy had feelings for you, but she's so closed off to emotions that it's hard to get an accurate read on her. If you were reading too much into her friendship and just projecting your own feelings you didn’t want to make things awkward by confessing your love for her, so you stayed quiet. Those suspicions never quite went away though. And now yearn to know if there's any validation to your thoughts.

“Nat, I- ” you start to talk but she cuts you off with a shake of her head

“No Y/n, you don’t understand. When you got here, your heart stopped. You….you died” she trembles slightly, “And you never would have known…”

You look at her softly, the weight of what she said sinking in. You knew the dangers of this job when you took it, still you're glad to be alive and you can’t help but feel guilty for what Natasha has gone through since you decided to throw caution to the wind and blow your own cover in a means to get attention away from a stuttering and fumbling Peter that had just raised suspicion by admitting to be a Stark Industries intern.

“What wouldn’t I have known?”

She thought that by now, after everything she'd be able to get those three words out, but when she tries her throat goes impossibly dry and her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

“I- I…” she huffs, “Don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words.”

You smile at her sympathetically, “How about you show me then? Think you can do that?”

She eagerly nods her head, desperate to prove to you how much she cares. She moves even closer and you remove your hand from her face to give her full freedom of movement. She removes her hand from yours and gently cups your face. Her thumb brushes over a small bruise while her other hand tucks a stray hair behind your ear, and her eyes swim with a multitude of emotions as they take in your appearance close up. She takes one last deep breath and surges forward, allowing her lips to meet yours.

It's sloppy, full of desperation and tears, but it's also full of other things too. Regret, fear, and most importantly, love. She finds she needs air far too quickly for her liking so she relents in breaking the kiss. She doesn't move away though, instead she rests her forehead against yours and lets her nose bump yours too. You melt against her, grateful for her open show of affection, her way of saying she loves you without having to actually say it. That will come when she's ready, and you won’t push.

“I love you too Natasha”

She gives you a wide watery smile, gratefully that you not only understood her gesture but that you felt the same way she does. She carefully and quickly crawls into the bed next to you and gently wraps an arm around you as she buries her face against your neck.

“I was so scared” she admits as your own arm wraps around her waist

“I can imagine. But I’m ok, Natty. I’m here and I’ve got you.”

She sniffles, “You promise?”

You tighten your hold on her and plant a kiss to the top of her head, “I promise”

She nods against you but you can tell she's still not fully at ease. To help calm her fears you take the hand that's around your waist and place it on your chest. She can feel each strong beat of the muscle under your sternum and it's only then that she relaxes against you.

“You're ok” she says, more to herself than you

“Mhm, I’m ok” you reply, “Great actually, now that I have you”

She moves her face away from your neck to look at you with a softness you've never seen before but know is only reserved only for you, “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. This is all I’ve ever wanted, you're all I ever wanted.” She smiles widely before settling against you once more, kissing your collarbone affectionately and you somehow know what that means, “Love you too Natty, love you too.”

By the time Clint comes to check in he finds you both fast asleep, intertwined with each other in the small hospital bed, and he happily smiles because you were ok, and now all was as it should be.

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic

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