Sugar And Spice

Where can I order a Jake for me?

Never Have I Ever…

Pairings: Jake Jensen x female reader (not My Best Friend, Jensen verse)

Warnings: explicit sexual content- oral (female receiving), explicit language, talk of past inadequate lovers, asshole ex-boyfriend, a dash of angst, pinning, pussy worship kink (is that a thing?) praise kink, implied smut, Jake being the fictional boyfriend we all deserve (18+)

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: this is not JJ x sunshine from My Best Friend, Jensen.

This is not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

'But like... never?' Jake asked, squinting in disbelief, ‘never?’

'Um... no' you shrugged, embarrassed at your admission, 'can you hand me that folder?'

You had been paired with Jensen for a huge project at work and had gotten to know him over the past few months. You'd even consider him a friend at this point. And it was a good thing, since you were now sitting cross-legged on the floor of your office, folders spread all around you as you spilled-your-guts to him about the most embarrassing part of your love life. Or lack of love life to be exact.

'OK... so like some guys can't find the g-spot... with their...' Jake cleared his throat and cocked his head slightly down towards his lap, 'but not even with his fingers or tongue?'

'I don't know...' you said, face burning with embarrassment as you tried to hide behind a folder.

'You don't know?' Jake asked, going silent while he processed your words, 'wait... did he ever go down on you?'

You were silent, chewing at your bottom lip, pretending to run the numbers again as you avoided his question. Your gut turning painfully as you worked to keep your breathing steady. This was a mistake.

'Y/N?' Jake's voice was raised in disbelief, leaning over to catch your gaze, 'hey?' His voice softened, the concern in his tone made your heart ache.

'It's not a big deal, Jake' you tried to brush it off like it didn't bother you. It's what you always told yourself at least. But deep down you knew you were lying. And something told you Jake did too.

'Not a big deal?' He choked, 'your dumbass ex boyfriend never gave you an orgasm... never tasted you and you're trying to tell me that's not a big deal?'

'Tasted me?' You squeaked, you could feel the heat wash over your face in waves, the warmth reaching your ears.

'Hell yeah, tasted you' he said from his chest, 'I love tasting the woman I'm with... laying her out, spending as much time as I can between her sweet thighs, making ‘em tremble, making her scream my name. It gets me so fuckin' hard.'

'Oooh' you managed a shaky breath as you felt an ache build deep in your belly. An ache that was too deep to reach with your fingers or your vibrator. You whimpered when Jake looked up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his pink lips.

'It really is one of my favorite things about being with a woman' he continued, as you eyes flickered to his lips, discreetly pressing your thighs together for some much needed relief. You shifted in your work-appropriate sundress, bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you hung on his every word.

'It's intimate and soft and beautiful... making a woman fall apart in your mouth' he said, his voice low and warm as you squirmed, arousal pooling in your panties.

'It's my fault, really' you offered, absentmindedly, still staring at that perfect-pink-pout, 'the ex always said I couldn't relax enough t-to cum.'

'What? Oh, fucking come on' Jake practically snarled, rolling his eyes and punching the floor as he leaned back against the base of your cushioned arm chair, his head hitting it with a soft thud.

Jake's reaction made you startle as your thoughts were pulled back to your work project and the time.

'Yeah... well' you coughed, clearing your throat uncomfortably, 'maybe if we ever finish this project I'll loosen up enough to meet a guy...'

'That's bullshit' Jake grumbled, 'please tell me you know that's bullshit' his glasses were off and he was pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his tired eyes in frustration.

'Y/N...' he sighed, putting his glasses back on and giving you an incredulous look, 'this has nothing to do with you...'

'You don't know that' you said, eyes prickling with tears as you busied yourself with putting papers back in folders and started stacking them neatly beside you. It was well past time to call it a night.

'I do' he sighed, leaning his elbow on the seat of your chair as he angled his long lean body towards yours, 'that asshat shoulda been working to relax you... you know… get your pussy ready so he can take you apart over and over... and over' he emphasized, suggestively.

'Well there was never even one over... so there couldn't be multiple overs...' you snorted, 'um... remind me why you're single again?' You teased.

'Why are you?' He shot back, but his voice didn't have his usual playfulness to it.

'I told you... frigid bitch' you smirked, your self deprecating sense of humor usually earning you at least a pity chuckle from Jake, but this time he remained stoic, unspoken emotion burning in his eyes.

Jake took a deep steadying breath, his jaw clicking as he smoldered with an emotion you hadn't seen from him before... Anger.

Jake was angry. He was fuming in fact. And for the first time since you had started working on this project, you wanted to be anywhere else then with him.

You finished stacking the rest of the folders with no help from Jake, leaning on all fours to reach the ones farthest from you. You swear you heard a low rumble in his chest when you leaned just over him.

'Well... um... I'll see you tomorrow' you stumbled over awkward words as Jake pushed off the floor, rising slowly to his feet. It was the first time you realized just how much taller he was then you.

He still hadn't said a word, was just glowering down at you with a smolder that made a tingle snake up your spine, your heart hammered against your rib cage. You shifted uncomfortably, the slick in your panties making your thighs stick together under your dress.

'Y/N' Jake growled your name as you moved to get up, he offered you a hand and you accepted, tired legs wobbling a little, regaining your balance as you smoothed your hands down the length of your dress, a nervous habit.

'I'm sorry... I...' you began, but Jake was pulling you into his chest as he ducked down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as if he needed you to breath. His large hands tentatively framing your face, his action a contrast to the burning need he felt for you. You leaned into the kiss, needing him just as much as he needed you.

'I wanna taste you' his voice was low as he took the time to explore your mouth, sitting down and pulling you, still standing, between his thighs.

You nodded against his lips, carding your hands through his hair as your tongue swept into his mouth. Jake groaned, gripping at your soft curves before his hands smoothed down your hips. Your breath hitched when his warm fingers cradled one of your knees, gently opening you up.

Jake pressed his forehead to your belly, shivering you could feel the warmth of his kisses chaining over the fabric that covered your thighs. Your hands went to his broad shoulders as his fingertips softly traced up your bare legs. You held your breath when his finger hooked into the string waistband of your panties resting low on your hips.

'This OK?' He asked, staring up at you, the cool blue of his eyes dancing with desire.

You bit your bottom lip, nodding your answer as your entire body trembled with anticipation.

'Need ya to use your words, pretty' he goaded, 'been waitin’ so long to taste you... fuck, can't tell you how many nights I left here rock-hard just dreaming about this sweet cunt on my tongue' he has tugging your panties down your legs as a breathy yes was pulled from your throat, a chant on your lips.

Jake groaned when he got your panties off your body, stuffing the delicate ruined fabric in his back pocket.

'Smell even sweeter then I imagined' he hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your cloth covered clit, pausing there to inhale your scent.

You whimpered, impatiently, wiggling your hips and grinding up into his face, seeking any sort of relief for your swollen bundle if nerves.

'Still not a big deal, baby?' He teased as a sob escaped your lips, you trembled, knees weak as you fought the urge to collapse.

'Shhhhhh' Jake cooed, 'I got you, pretty' he smiled softly, removing his glasses and tossing them to the side table before taking the hem of your sundress and bunching it up to your waist, he hooked your leg behind the knee and slowly brought it up over his shoulder, never breaking eye contact with you as he gave you time to adjust to your new position. He didn't even flinch when your nails dug into the meat of his broad shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

'Gonna show you just how much of a treat you are' his words came in hot puffs over your mound as you stared down at him, body tense with nerves.

Jake's nose ran up the length of your folds before diving right in, sucking your pearl into his mouth in a messy kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

‘Fuck, taste so good’ he hummed his appreciation, a man starved.

The chorus of moans Jake was pulling from you was heaven to his ears. They started soft and timid as you rocked over his strong tongue but soon enough you were grinding into him, needing more.

'Oh, god, Jake' you gasped, 'please....please' you whined, not even sure what you were pleading for until he speared into your center, fucking you with his thick tongue.

Your body jolted forward, catching yourself on the back of the chair when he added a finger to where his tongue was fucking into you. Jake groaned possessively as his finger curled into your spongey walls and hooked into a spot that made you see stars.

'Fuck, Jake' you choked, squirming as the pressure in your belly built hot and heavy.

'Come on, pretty' Jake praised, 'doing so good for me' he said, licking a thick strip up your folds as he palmed his impossibly hard cock.

'I can't' you whined, overwhelming pleasure flooding your senses. You gasped when he took handfuls of your ass, rocking your hips into his mouth as he sucked your pearl with a harsh flick of his tongue.

You sobbed when the coil in your belly snapped, unraveling as a warmth washed over your entire body and you collapsed into Jake's chest utterly sated as your heart kicked against your rib cage.

Jake pressed his wet lips to your dewy crown, smirking when he noticed the tear stains streaking your cheeks. You were completely wrecked in the prettiest way possible.

'You wanna see what real pleasure tastes like?' He murmured against your temple, gripping your ankle and shifting you until you were straddling his lap.

'Yes' you panted as he crashed his lips to yours, the tang of your arousal still on his tongue as you felt his heavy length press against your sensitive mound, making you cry out.

You groaned, breaking the kiss too soon as you pressed your forehead to his, suddenly feeling self conscious.

So... that's cumming?’ you whispered against his lips, the corners of your mouth curling into a shy smile.

'Oh, pretty' his laugh was warm, 'that’s just a taste…wait until you're making a mess on my cock.'

You whimpered, pressing a hard kiss to his lips before pulling back and helping him with his glasses.

‘That’s better’ he smiled up at you, ‘hi, pretty girl’ Jake said.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, butterflies fluttering in your chest. You sighed, tired and happy as you lazily ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, ducking down for a soft, shy kiss.

‘Thank you’ you whispered, suddenly feeling the weight of every asshole you ever dated all at once.

‘Hey, it’s OK’ he soothed, ‘you did so good, baby… so good’ he smiled caressing your cheek as he wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

‘Can I…’ he started and stopped, ‘can I make you cum again?’ he asked, ‘I'll take you out to dinner first' he offered, flashing you his boyish grin.

‘Why wait for dinner’ you sniffled, smiling down at him with a soft giggle as he wrapped his big arms around you, pulling you into the first of many filthy kisses.

The divider was made by the talented and lovely @firefly-graphics 🖤

As always, thanks for all the love 🖤

I may like Logan more than I thought 🥵

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

Intimacy is not just experienced through sex. It's crying together. It's whispering late at night. It's talking about growing up and what used to scare you. It's going places that remind you of your childhood. It's feeling each other without touching. It's exchanging energy.

Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Librarian!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Happily Ever After begins in the subway. Word Count: Almost 1.7k Warnings: First meeting, swearing, unwanted advances, slight fluff, protective Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: I need another AU like a hole in the head, but Nix's edit inspired me. @11thstreetvigilante, @sweeterthanthis , @dreamlessinparis , @musingsinmoonlight , thank you for helping me bring him to life. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by Nix, divider by @rookthorne and banner by yours truly. Poem by the lovely @maladaptivexxdaydreaming from these prompts.

Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications and please reblog or comment as it means the world!

You met Bucky Barnes on an ordinary night in a quiet subway car.

There weren't many people around, which gave you a chance to sit on an empty bench and enjoy the relatively quiet ride after the long work day.

It never bothered you to ride alone. The restaurant you were meeting your friends at was only a few stops away and it was cheaper than a cab. 

Your mom told you more than once that it wasn't safe, but you argued that neither was walking home by yourself at night. Plus, you carried pepper spray. 

"If you had a boyfriend to walk you home, I wouldn't worry so much."

While you understood her reasoning, your last relationship fizzled almost as quickly as it began and that was over six months ago. You didn't need a reminder that you were single.

You briefly glanced up from your phone and reminded yourself to at least be aware of your surroundings. Which was how you found yourself staring at a handsome man standing a few feet away.

He was tall from what you could see and broad across the chest. From a casual glance, you made out that he had blue eyes behind the glasses perched on his nose. 

The brunette turned the page of the book he was holding and you couldn't help but stare at his massive hands. The leather glove that covered his left hand matched his jacket.

You had to smile when you realized he was leaning against the door which specifically said not to. The leather and relaxed stance added to the allure that maybe he was the kind of man to break the rules.

The book of poetry in his hand that you recognized, however, suggested that he was a thoughtful, deep man. Maybe he was all of those things.

If he noticed you staring, he didn't say anything. That gave you a few more seconds to ponder on how soft his short hair was before you looked away.

You couldn't remember the last time someone grabbed your attention so quickly. He hadn't even spoken to you.

Dream on. Happily Ever After doesn't begin in the subway.

If not, why did you look up to find him gazing at you? And why did he have a small smile on his face?

Don't say anything. A man that handsome probably has someone at home waiting to feel that scruff between their thighs.

"I have that book," you said before you could stop yourself. 

I hope that didn't sound like a line.

"My heart beats slowly when you look at me. When your eyes meet mine, my breath stops."

Though you were only quoting a part of a poem to him, the words rang true: You felt like you couldn't breathe as your eyes met.

His small smile stretched into a grin and you found yourself smiling back before the subway lurched to a stop. 

Whatever moment transpired between the two of you faded as the door closest to you opened. You also noticed the smile on the stranger's face faded quickly as a man stumbled in and over to the empty spot beside you.

"Hey, sweet thing," the guy smirked as he threw an arm over your shoulders. "I'm Blake."

The man had an athletic build and was good-looking, but the alcohol on his breath and leering gaze created a pit in your stomach.

"Hey yourself," you said. You carefully removed his arm and scooted away until you hit the end of the bench.

The guy didn't take the hint and he inched closer. "Nice dress."

You smiled, not wanting to cause any trouble. "Thanks."

"Bet it would look nice on my floor."

Those lines don't work on me, buster.

"It looks better in my hamper, trust me," you said as you grasped the pole beside you and stood up before he could put his arm around you again. 

"What's the rush, sweet thing?" 

"My stop is coming up."

"If you need help getting off, I'm happy to lend a hand."

"No thanks. I have two of my own," you smiled.

The handsome stranger either snorted at your joke or found a funny passage in his book. 

Blake, on the other hand, didn't seem to take the joke well as he got to his feet. "I'm just being friendly. No need to be a bitch."

The sound of whirring metal distracted you from the insult. At least, that's what you thought the sound was. 

"I'm not being a bitch. My stop is-"

"Coming up. Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, nearly falling into you as you tried to back up more. You had nowhere to go. "If you're so nice, let me walk you home."

"No, thank you," you said with a grimace as he gripped your hip to steady himself. "Maybe you should sit back down."

"Only if you sit on my lap," he smirked, making the pit in your stomach grow. "C'mon, sweet thing. You can miss your stop."

"I said 'no'," you said louder, reaching into your bag for your pepper spray.

Mom, if you can sense this or if I ever tell you this story, don't say "I told you so".

"Sit down."

The low tone from the handsome stranger made you and Blake look his way. You felt like you couldn't breathe again when you saw the anger in his eyes.

"This doesn't concern you, asshole," Blake snapped.

"She asked you to sit down. I suggest you do as she says."

Blake let go of your hip, but didn't get out of your personal space. "Fuck off."

The stranger sighed as he closed his book and pushed himself away from the door. "Sit. Down." He said, his voice lower than before.

"Or what?"

You didn't speak as your knight in leather jacket armor removed his glasses and tucked them in his pocket. "You wanna find out?"

Oh, shit. Please, don't fight. And why is it making me swoon that he's defending me?

Blake wasn't small by any means, but he didn't carry the power that your hero did. He took three steps forward and that was enough for the jerk to back away. 

"Whatever. Bitch probably doesn't put out anyway."

"Excuse me?" you asked. Why did turning someone's advances down make you a bitch?

"Do you mind holding this, please?" the man's voice warmed as he held his book out for you. Once you took it from his hand, he turned his attention to Blake.

"What the fuck?" he shouted when the brunette grabbed his hand, the one that gripped your hip, and twisted.

"Apologize," he ordered, twisting a bit more to make Blake yelp. "Now."

"Fuck, I'm sorry! Let go, let go!" Blake cried. 

"It's fine," you said as the subway began to come to a stop. "Really, I'm fine."

The stranger let go of Blake's hand and shoved him back onto the bench. "Next time someone tells you to back off, listen. And you better not get off at this stop, you understand me?"

"Got it," he said, not making eye contact as he rubbed his wrist.

The door opened for your stop and you wished you had a little bit longer to talk to the man who defended you. "Thank you," you said.

He took the book from your hand and you couldn't help but shiver as your fingertips touched his. "It was nothing."

"Sorry, this is me," you said, gripping the bag on your shoulder as you turned to get off.

I wish I didn't have to go.

"This is me, too," you heard behind you as you stepped off the train. 

"Oh," you smiled when he walked beside you. Though he was tall and clearly strong, he didn't scare you. "I really do appreciate your help."

"It was nothing," he said again, putting his left hand back in his pocket. "I saw you reaching into your bag for something, so I'm sure you could've handled him."

You nodded, thankful that he paid attention. Most would've ignored the situation. "Pepper spray."

"He would've deserved it," he chuckled. 

"He would've," you giggled as you got to the top of the steps.

"I'm Bucky," he said.

You smiled and introduced yourself, falling into a comfortable silence as he walked beside you toward the restaurant. "Thanks for waking me here."

"Oh," he sounded disappointed, but nodded. "Have a good rest of the night."

Take a chance. Say something.

"Bucky?" you asked before he could walk away. "I know you said it was nothing, but I'd like to repay you somehow for stepping in."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I want to," you said, not wanting to say you just wanted a reason to see him again. "Please?"

He took his wallet out of his back pocket to get you a card. "You wouldn't happen to have a pen, would you?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, digging one out of your bag to give to him.

"I work at the Abraham Library," he explained as he held the card and wrote something down that you couldn't see. "We could always use volunteers."

"I love to read and I'd love to help out," you promised, glancing at the front of the card with his name, number and email address after he handed it to you.

"I'll make sure it's a shift where I'm working," he said, giving you back your pen as well.

"Perfect," you smiled, gesturing to the restaurant. "I should go. I hope you have a good rest of the night, too."

"Hope to see you soon, doll."

You smiled as you headed toward the door and looked back over your shoulder. He stood there with a matching smile and didn't walk away until you went inside.

You felt light on your feet as you went to the hostess station. As you told her the name for the reservation, you looked down at the card still in your hand and flipped it over with a gasp.

"The night I beg you not let the sun rise."

It was the next part of the poem you recited to him. 

Maybe this is the start of my Happily Ever After.

We'll see the new lovebirds again soon. Love and thanks for reading!

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

As I’m continuing to try to educate myself on the Black Lives Matter Movement, I decided to watch “The Hate U Give”, which is a movie highlighting the life of a young teenage girl named Starr who is forced to find a balance between her black heritage and community back in her hometown versus her white privilege at school. I decided to make a collage highlighting some of the impactful quotes and pictures from this movie in order to share the powerful message and importance of this movie especially in light of the current times today. This movie was such a compelling and inspirational film as it encompasses the reality of police brutality, the fear and uncertainty that black families have to constantly face throughout their whole lives even at a young age, as well as a young black teen girl finding her own voice and speaking out for what’s right as she stands up for her beliefs after experiencing a traumatizing incident that alters her perspective and life forever.

I highly recommend this movie (and the book which this movie was based on as well) as it truly opened my eyes to the perspectives of the black community and really helped me to further grasp and understand the cruciality and power of the Black Lives Matter movement in their situation as a reflection of the current times today. I believe that even watching movies, listening to podcasts, reading books, and more that highlight the Black Lives Matter message is a really great and accessible way for us all to further educate ourselves on this movement as well as we are able to further our knowledge and understanding from the perspective of the black community. Moving forward, I plan to continue to utilize all the widely available resources to me and do all that I can to learn and broaden my perspective so that I am able to fully support and understand this movement and the black community to the best of my abilities.

Keep up the pressure, just because the “trend” is over doesn’t mean the movement is over. The impact and power that the unity of this movement has been creating is tremendous and we can’t stop now. Anything helps and we will keep fighting on together for justice and change, we got this!

I have included some links down below to different websites that provide a wide range of various movies, books, podcasts, and other really great resources that help educate on the BLM movement as well so feel free to check them out if interested/ want to learn more!

https://www.cnet.com/news/black-lives-matter-movies-tv-shows-and-books-on-systemic-racism/

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1bUJrgX8vspyy7YttiEC2vD0DawrpPYiZs94V0ov7qZQ/htmlview

https://www.vromansbookstore.com/blm-learning-about-anti-racist-work

https://fashionmagazine.com/culture/anti-black-racism-awareness-books-movies-resources/

The YUNiversity Interns | YUNiversity Writing Dept. | YUNiversity Art Dept.

I’m sold, would read an entire book of this

Soiled

Pairing: Motocross!Curtis Everett x Female Reader Summary: Curtis can't stand you. At least, that's what he tells himself. Word Count: Over 820 Warnings: Very mild eventual enemies to lovers, quick judgement, light banter, Curtis doesn't want to admit he wants you. Motocross!Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Meet Rusty and Princess! My first time writing for Curtis. Excited to dive into their eventual romance. Thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for looking this over, @buckyownsmylife for the Rusty nickname, and @nocturne-pisces for previous discussions. Any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly, banner by the amazing @sgt-seabass and divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

Curtis Everett couldn’t stand you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

When he wasn’t racing or practicing, he worked at the salvage yard that your father owned. He didn’t mind the work and the pay was decent.

Between his job and the tracks, he was bound to be surrounded by dirt and grime.

While he enjoyed working for your dad, who showed time and again that he was a hard worker who respected his employees, you were a different story.

The first time he spotted you at the yard, you walked toward the office with a casual sort of haughtiness that made him sneer.

Your purse likely cost more than his entire paycheck, as did the rest of your outfit.

Glancing at your manicured nails as you stopped walking, he wondered if you ever worked a day in your life.

A princess amongst peasants. He knew the type all too well.

“Excuse me,” you said, sliding your sunglasses down to stare at him with a cool, assessing gaze when he didn’t say anything. “Excuse me.”

“What do you want?” Curtis asked, thankful that it wasn’t his customer service skills he was paid for.

“You’re kind of standing in front of the door and I’d like to go inside.”

“Please, tell me you’re not applying for a job here,” he said before he could stop himself, looking you up and down. “You’re a little overdressed.”

He did not sweep his gaze over you because he found you attractive.

You lifted your chin with a grin. “I have a job, thanks. I’m actually here to see my dad.”

Curtis glanced at the door over his shoulder before looking back at you. “Your dad?”

“Yeah, my dad,” you said, taking a cautious step forward, like you were afraid you’d scuff your shoe. “He owns this place.”

Looking you over again, he couldn’t imagine you as the boss's daughter.

Your blue collar father who tore it up on the track before he stopped racing years ago didn’t seem like the type to raise a spoiled brat.

To be fair, Curtis didn’t actually know if you were a brat. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

But he already placed you in the “first class” section of his mind.

Too good for someone like him.

“So, may I please go inside?” you asked, sliding your sunglasses back up. “You’re still standing in front of the door.”

“By all means, princess,” he said, taking a bow before he stepped to the side.

You scoffed as you brushed past him, the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air. “Aww, if I’m a princess, does that make you my brave knight?”

“Not a chance,” he muttered, torn between purposely bumping into you to get your clothes dirty or shoving you against the door and kissing you.

No, he was not going to think of how your lips would taste. He refused.

“That’s too bad,” you said over your shoulder. “So nice to meet you, Rusty.”

“My name is Curtis,” he said through his teeth, wondering why he bothered correcting you.

“Tell that to the name on your shirt and the dirt on your face. Bye, Rusty!” you said, shutting the door behind you.

"It's Curtis!" he shouted, snatching the hat off his head and almost throwing it in frustration.

He vented later that day to Daisy, one of his only female friends.

“Just because she dresses well doesn’t mean she’s stuck up. Maybe she just likes to look nice."

"No, she's a stuck up pretty princess," he argued.

"You just called her pretty."

"When are you gonna ask Steve out?" he asked, changing the subject because he refused to focus on the fact that you were pretty.

No, he already made his mind up about you.

It didn’t matter that you started stopping by the yard more to bring your dad and the crew food, which he grudgingly accepted after Edgar gave him a hard time.

"She's just sucking up," Curtis said, wiping his hands before he grabbed a sandwich.

"It's working," Edgar said with a mouthful of food.

It never once got under his skin that you still called him “Rusty” with a smirk whenever he called you "Princess".

"You know my name, Princess. Watch where you're stepping."

"Careful, Rusty," you teased. "I'll start to think you care if I get dirty."

And it didn't mean a thing when you stepped into the office late one night to help sort your dad's paperwork when he had to leave early.

Which was the first time he saw you look less than perfect when he caught you wiping a stray tear away as you headed back to your car.

He thought of calling after you to see if you were okay, but he didn't. He was probably seeing things.

Besides, it wasn't any of his business. You weren't his girl.

A princess like you never would be.

What do we think, lovelies? And, yes, Daisy is another reader who is totally crushing on Steve Rogers. Curtis approves. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Dialed In Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

News Anchor in my area loses it over a Fat Cat that likes to swim.

A fucking masterpiece !!

Rouse

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,542 Summary: As far as wake up calls go, this wasn’t the worst. Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Explicit language. Unprotected sex. Slight breeding kink if you squint. Soft!Ransom (but he’s hard when it counts 😘). 18+ ONLY.

A/N: Blame (or thank) @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for this. I saw this post on her blog and my hoe brain just fucking ran with it. Enjoy, my pretties. Ilu ❤️❤️

Continuar a ler

The authorities of the Islamic Republic of Iran have started to arrest prominent public figures. Not just journalists and activists, but also actresses, singers, athletes who supported the protests via their social media are now in danger of arrest.

The regime is desperate.

They are aware that their already declining economy is hit and made even worse due to the long daily internet shutdowns. Imagine you're unable to write emails at work or access your webshop. The Iranian government can't keep shutting down the web forever.

But the moment they reboot internet access the people in Iran will connect for more action and people outside of Iran will see what's happening.

Meanwhile, protests, strikes and civil disobedience are still taking place all over the Iran.

My dad (Unattractive but super social) + My mom (Attractive but social) = Me (Unattractive and with social anxiety)