#teasing reader

MDNI

ADULT prohero!bakugou x teasing gn!reader

CWs: jokes of "kys" , (loving) threats of violence, talking about baku's body, minor suggestiveness(?)

never made oneof these so hope it didn't suck too hard

reader and congressman bucky after a gala…

The door to the suite had barely clicked shut before Bucky was already slipping back into work mode, his tie loosened but still hanging around his neck as he paced near the window with his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, that deep, political-calm tone he always used when speaking to people who claimed they were more important than they actually were.

You let your back rest against the edge of the bed, watching him with a slow smile. He looked stupidly handsome like this — the gala still clinging to him in the shine of his cufflinks, the rumpled dress shirt hugging his broad chest, the faint smudges of your lipstick on his jaw from earlier when you’d gotten away with being bold.

You tugged the tie of your silk robe just a little tighter for dramatic effect, even though you knew what was underneath was doing most of the heavy lifting. The lingerie wasn’t subtle. Lace. Sheer. The kind of set that made you feel like a scandal waiting to happen.

And Bucky — poor, unsuspecting Bucky — was too busy discussing a committee amendment to notice the danger he was in.

You lifted one leg slowly, stretching it out so your foot could graze his calf as he passed on another turn. He didn’t react at first, just stopped mid-sentence, brow furrowing like his brain had buffered.

Then he shot you a look over his shoulder — warning, strained, a little desperate.

You bit your lip.

He swallowed hard and continued pacing.

You dragged your foot higher this time, over the fine fabric of his suit pants, slow enough to make sure he felt every inch. His inhale stuttered audibly.

“Yes, Senator, I—” Bucky cleared his throat, jaw clenching. “I understand the timeline, but—”

Your toes brushed the inside of his thigh.

He froze.

The poor man visibly forgot English.

There was a long pause on the line, someone clearly demanding he speak, but Bucky only managed a strangled hum as he stepped slightly out of your reach, glaring like you were the problem.

You smiled sweetly. Completely innocent. Completely not.

He turned away, trying to recompose himself — the big, bad congressman struggling because his girlfriend couldn’t sit still for five minutes. You knew exactly what you were doing, exactly how close to the edge he already was after a whole night of schmoozing and being touched by strangers and keeping his temper in check.

He was wound tight.

And you were about to unwind him.

You slipped off the bed and walked toward him slowly, letting the silk robe fall open just enough to give him a glimpse — the lace, the soft straps hugging your hips, the curve of your breasts framed perfectly.

You didn’t touch him this time.

You just dropped the robe entirely.

Bucky spun around at the exact moment it hit the floor.

His eyes went wide. His hand tightened around the phone. The vein in his neck jumped.

“Bucky?” someone asked through the speaker, sharp and confused. “Are you still there?”

Your congressman stared at you like you’d ended his entire re-election campaign with a single move.

And you, with a shrug and a wicked tilt of your head, raised one brow.

That was it.

Bucky didn’t bother pretending he could finish the call.

“Yeah, I— I’ve gotta go,” he blurted, voice cracking halfway through. “Something urgent just came up.”

He hung up without waiting for a response.

The second the phone left his hand, he crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed your waist, hauling you against him with a hungry groan.

“You’re trying to get me fired,” he muttered into your neck, kissing down the line of your throat with barely restrained heat.

“Me?” You gasped softly as his hands slid down to your hips. “I was just getting ready for bed.”

“Liar.” His voice was low, gravelled, ruined by the way he wanted you. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Yes,” you breathed, pulling lightly on his tie to drag him down to your mouth. “I do.”

That was all it took.

Bucky spun you, backing you into the wall with surprising force for someone who spent the whole night shaking hands and pretending to be civilized. His mouth crashed into yours, his hands everywhere — cupping your ass, squeezing your hips, gripping you like he needed to prove something.

He pulled back just long enough to look at you, eyes blown wide, pupils dark and hungry.

“You interrupted a call with a senator,” he growled, kissing down your chest, teeth scraping lightly over lace. “Do you know how insane that is?”

“Are you mad?” you asked, breath shaky, back arching into his hands.

He sank to his knees in front of you, dragging his palms slowly down your thighs like he was worshipping, not punishing.

“Mad?” He kissed your inner knee, then higher. “Sweetheart, I’m about to show you what mad feels like.”

His hands slid under the band of your panties, thumbs hooking the lace before he tugged them down your legs with agonizing slowness. He kept kissing his way up, each touch hotter than the last, until you could barely remember what your own legs were supposed to do.

When his mouth finally pressed between your thighs, you grabbed his hair with a sharp gasp.

Bucky groaned like he’d been starving all night and you were finally giving him a taste.

He looked up at you from between your legs, tie hanging loose around his neck, eyes dark with a promise that had nothing to do with politics.

“You want me in bed?” he murmured, voice wrecked. “You’re getting me everywhere.”

Before you could even respond, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and pulled you fully against his mouth, devouring you like the gala, the senator, the entire world no longer existed.

And for the rest of the night, they didn’t.

C's corner: I needed a break from all the angst I've been working on lately. So this idea came to mind. I find it adorable how John gets easily flustered during the scene with Yelena and Ava in the back of the truck.

👉🏽MAIN MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: John Walker can handle high-stakes missions and hostile targets, but he’s completely defenseless against your relentless, suggestive teasing. What starts as harmless flirting turns into something real and unexpectedly sweet, as you chip away at his composure one blush at a time.

The team had gathered in the training room for another long debrief, but John Walker wasn't hearing a damn word of it. Not with you sitting across from him, that half-smile tugging at your lips like you knew exactly how easily you could break his focus.

He tried to sit straight, tried to look composed, in control. But the way your gaze lingered on him was making that impossible.

"Walker," you said, tilting your head just a little. "You paying attention, or are you daydreaming again?"

He blinked, throat tightening. "I... uh... I'm listening," he managed, voice a little rough.

You smirked. "Sure. Because you've been staring at me like you forgot how words work."

The way his jaw flexed made it clear he had noticed, and that it wasn't the first time you'd flustered him.

After the meeting, he caught up to you in the hallway, cheeks still faintly red. "You think it's funny?" he asked, trying for stern but failing spectacularly.

"Maybe," you teased, stepping a little closer. "You blush easy, Captain. It's kind of cute."

"Cute?" he repeated, nearly tripping over the word. "I don't... I'm not..."

You reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his collar, voice low. "You're adorable when you get all tongue-tied."

He froze. "You really shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not?" you asked softly. "It's true."

His breath hitched, the sound caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh. "You do this on purpose, don't you?"

"Maybe," you said again, eyes dancing. "I like seeing you lose your composure a little."

He leaned in, close enough that his breath grazed your cheek. "One of these days," he murmured, voice deeper now, "you're gonna push too far."

Your smile widened. "Promise?"

That one word, that playful lilt, undid him completely. His composure shattered with a shaky laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

"God, you drive me crazy," he muttered.

You grinned, stepping back just enough to let him breathe, but not before whispering, "Good. That's exactly the point."

And as you walked away, you didn't need to turn around to know, John Walker was absolutely, unmistakably, blushing.

John hadn't stopped thinking about that hallway encounter. Not the teasing, not your voice, and definitely not the way you'd said Promise? like it was some secret meant just for him.

So when he saw you the next morning in the common kitchen, humming to yourself while making coffee, he nearly turned right back around.

Nearly.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "You, uh… always up this early?"

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling. "Only when I have someone to torment before breakfast."

He groaned quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You ever give anyone a break?"

"Not when they make it this easy." You slid a second mug toward him. "I made extra. Didn't think Captain Fluster would turn down caffeine."

John huffed a laugh despite himself. "That's not my name."

"Oh no? Because it suits you." You handed him the mug, your fingers brushing his just long enough to make his breath hitch.

"Don't do that," he muttered.

"Do what?" you asked innocently.

"That thing where you look at me like you're about to..." He stopped himself, realizing he had nowhere to go that didn't sound incriminating.

"Like I'm about to what?" you pressed, leaning just a little closer.

He shook his head, a small, helpless smile pulling at his lips. "You enjoy this way too much."

You shrugged. "Maybe I just like seeing you smile."

That caught him off guard. The teasing in your tone softened, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

"You… like making me smile?" he asked, almost shyly.

"Of course," you said, your voice gentle now. "You look good when you stop pretending you're made of steel."

John chuckled, low, nervous, and genuine. "You got me figured out, huh?"

"Not yet," you replied, taking a slow sip of your coffee. "But I'm having fun trying."

He stared at you for a second too long, the corner of his mouth curving in quiet surrender. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too."

It had been a few days since your morning coffee routine had turned into his favorite part of the day. John Walker wasn't exactly the flirty type, but something about you made him want to try.

So today, when he found you leaning over the mission board, lips pursed in concentration, he figured it was as good a time as any. He took a breath. Be casual, he told himself. Be smooth.

"You know," he began, resting one hand on the table, "you're making it hard for the rest of us to focus when you stand there like that."

You turned, raising an amused eyebrow. "Oh? So that's your strategy now?"

John froze. "What strategy?"

"Flirting." You grinned, stepping closer. "I think that was your first attempt, wasn't it?"

"I..." he stammered, already blushing. "I was just saying you… you look..."

"Like a distraction?" you offered helpfully.

"Yeah. Exactly." He sighed, realizing too late that he'd walked straight into your trap.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. "Points for effort, Captain. You almost sounded confident."

John narrowed his eyes playfully. "Almost? I'll have you know, I can be smooth."

"Oh, really?" you challenged, leaning in until your breath brushed his jaw. "Prove it."

His heartbeat jumped. "Right now?"

"Unless you need to rehearse first," you teased.

He looked flustered, and for a second, he almost managed to pull it off. He straightened, lowered his voice, and met your eyes with a smirk that could've melted steel. "You really shouldn't mess with a man who's finally learning your game," he said.

You blinked, caught off guard for the first time and then smiled. "Not bad, Captain. You're improving."

The confidence wavered as fast as it came, and he laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, I uh… ran out of lines after that."

You giggled, brushing his arm. "That's okay. You don't need lines. I already like the way you talk when you're flustered."

He groaned softly, a hand covering his face. "You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance," you whispered, leaning up on your toes to murmur near his ear. "It's my favorite part about you."

John's blush deepened instantly, but this time, he didn't look away. Instead, he smiled, warm, boyish, and genuine.

"Yeah?" he said quietly. "Then I guess I can live with that."

It became a running joke, John Walker, decorated soldier, fearless on the field… completely hopeless at flirting off it.

You'd catch him trying so hard to match your teasing energy, and every time, it went adorably sideways.

Like this morning.

You were sitting on the couch in the rec room, scrolling through mission notes, when John walked in with a confident swagger that lasted all of four seconds.

He leaned casually against the doorway. "So… you come here often?"

You didn't even look up. "John, this is literally our living room."

He winced. "Right. Yeah. I, uh… knew that."

You finally looked up, biting back a smile. "You're getting worse."

"I'm practicing," he protested, crossing his arms. "Gotta get better somehow."

"By hitting on me like a dad at a barbecue?"

He groaned. "That's mean."

You laughed, patting the seat beside you. "C'mere, Captain Smooth Talker. Sit down before you hurt yourself."

He sat, grumbling something under his breath, then glanced at you with a hopeful smile. "So… if I was flirting, hypothetically, how am I doing?"

You tilted your head. "You're charming. Accidentally."

"That's… not the worst feedback I've ever gotten," he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

You sipped your drink, eyes glinting. "You could try complimenting me. That's safe territory."

"Right," he said, perking up. "Compliments. Easy." He cleared his throat, turning to you. "You, uh… you smell nice."

You arched a brow. "What do I smell like?"

He froze. "Uh… soap. And… feelings?"

You blinked, then burst out laughing so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

John groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I take it back. I'm never doing this again."

"Don't you dare," you said between giggles. "This is so much better than smooth flirting."

He peeked at you through his fingers. "Better? How is this better?"

You smiled, warmth softening the teasing. "Because it's you. Honest, awkward, and sweet. That's the part I like best."

That shut him up real fast. His cheeks flushed pink again, and his voice dropped into something quieter, gentler. "You're gonna make me forget how to talk again."

"Good," you teased, nudging him lightly. "Then I won't have to listen to any more of your pickup lines."

He laughed, shaking his head, but the smile that followed lingered longer than either of you expected.

John was convinced he'd finally cracked the code. All he had to do was not think so hard. Just say whatever came naturally. Easy, right?

You were at the training mats that afternoon, hair pulled back, focused on your drills. He'd been watching from the doorway longer than he'd admit, trying to time his entrance. Finally, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked over.

"Need a sparring partner?" he asked, trying for casual.

You looked up, smirking. "Depends. You planning to flirt or actually fight?"

He grinned. "Can't I do both?"

You laughed. "You can, but historically speaking, you're not great at multitasking."

He winced. "Fair. But I've been practicing."

"Oh yeah?" you teased. "What's the game plan this time?"

He opened his mouth to say something clever, but the words that came out weren't planned at all. "You make it real hard to focus when you look that happy."

Silence.

You blinked, the teasing fading into something softer. "Wait," you said quietly. "Did you just… call me happy?"

John's brain short-circuited. "I... what I meant was... you look good when you're..." He sighed, groaning. "I'm gonna stop talking now."

You smiled, a warm, almost shy kind of smile he hadn't seen before. "No, don't. That was sweet."

"It was an accident," he muttered, cheeks coloring fast.

"Still counts." You stepped a little closer, voice gentle. "You think I look good when I'm happy?"

He swallowed, eyes darting away. "…Yeah. You, uh… kinda light up the room."

That time, the words came softer, unplanned again, but true.

You tilted your head, touched by how earnest he looked. "See? You don't need to force it, John. You're a natural when you stop trying so hard."

He chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck. "Guess that's my secret weapon, accidental honesty."

"Works better than you think," you said, giving him a playful nudge. "Keep that up, and I might start believing you're smooth."

He smirked, the kind that almost hid his blush. "Careful. I might get confident."

"Good," you murmured. "I'd like to see that."

And for the first time, John Walker didn't look away. He just smiled, small, real, and a little bit dazzled.

It started happening subtly, a shift you couldn't quite name.

John wasn't stammering as much anymore. He wasn't turning pink every time you teased him. He'd still get that shy half-smile sometimes, but now there was something else behind it, a spark of quiet confidence.

And you noticed.

You were sitting in the lounge again, scrolling through a mission brief, when John appeared in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. That same stance you'd seen before, only this time, he didn't look nervous.

"You planning to hide in here all day?" he asked, voice light but steady.

You looked up, smirking. "Depends who's asking."

He grinned, walking closer. "Someone who knows you've been pretending to read the same page for five minutes."

Your jaw dropped. "You were watching me?"

"Maybe," he said simply. "You make concentrating kinda impossible."

You blinked. Wait, was he teasing you now?

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you… flirting with me, Captain Walker?"

"Trying to," he said, sitting beside you. "Figured I should at least return the favor after all the times you've made me forget how to breathe."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Pretty good so far," he said easily. "You're laughing. That's a win."

"Mm," you hummed, pretending to read your tablet again just to hide the smile tugging at your lips. But then, he leaned in. Close enough for his shoulder to brush yours.

"Y'know," he murmured, "you do that thing when you're flustered. Try to look busy."

Your fingers stilled on the screen. "…I do not."

He chuckled softly, his voice low near your ear. "You're doing it right now."

You looked up, and sure enough, that smug, boyish smile was waiting for you.

"Oh, you're enjoying this," you said, shaking your head.

"Little bit," he admitted. "Feels nice being the one making you blush for a change."

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Blush? Please. I don't..."

"Yeah, you do," he interrupted, grinning wider. "Right here."

He gently brushed his thumb against the edge of your cheekbone, so casual and soft it made your heart skip. His hand lingered for just a moment too long, and that was it. You were the one looking away now.

John chuckled quietly. "Guess I'm not the only one who gets flustered anymore."

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You're dangerous when you get confident."

He leaned back with that same easy grin. "Guess I finally learned from the best."

The shift had been coming for weeks now, slow, steady, and so gentle you almost didn't notice it.

Until tonight.

The compound was quiet after hours. Most of the team had gone out, leaving only the faint hum of the lights and the rhythmic click of rain against the windows.

You were curled up on the couch with a blanket and a half-finished cup of tea when John walked in.

He hesitated for a second in the doorway, like always, before crossing the room and sitting beside you.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," you replied, setting your mug down. "Couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head, resting his arms on his knees. "Nah. Just… felt weird sitting in my room doing nothing." He paused, then added with a tiny grin, "Plus, I was hoping I'd find you here."

You smiled, tucking your legs under you. "You getting bold, Captain?"

"Trying," he said with a nervous laugh. "Not sure if it's working."

"It's working," you teased. "You're actually kinda charming when you're not tripping over your words."

He chuckled, looking down. "Guess I just stopped fighting it. Every time I tried to sound smooth, I'd end up saying something stupid anyway."

"That's part of your charm," you said quietly.

He looked up at you then, really looked. There was something in his eyes that made the air shift, heavier and softer all at once.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded.

"All that flirting…" He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "It started 'cause I didn't know what else to do with myself around you. You'd look at me and I'd just... forget everything I was supposed to say."

You smiled faintly. "That's kind of adorable."

"Yeah, well…" He let out a soft laugh. "Then it stopped being about getting flustered and started being about… getting to know you. Having a reason to talk to you. Even if I sounded like an idiot half the time."

Your chest tightened, that kind of warmth that sneaks up on you when something finally clicks.

"John…" you started, but he wasn't finished.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is," he continued quietly, "somewhere between all the bad pickup lines and you making fun of me, I fell for you."

Silence stretched between you, not awkward, but charged. Tender.

Then you smiled, that slow, disbelieving smile that makes your eyes shine. "You really just confessed like that, huh?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Yeah, okay, not my smoothest..."

You reached out, gently pulling his hands down. "No," you said softly. "It was perfect."

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the rain outside, the soft light, and the warmth of his fingers brushing yours.

Then you leaned in, close enough that your forehead almost touched his.

"You know," you whispered, "I might've fallen for you somewhere between all those bad pickup lines, too."

John froze, then smiled, that same shy, disbelieving grin that first made you want to tease him in the first place.

"Guess we're both a little hopeless, huh?" he murmured.

"Hopeless," you agreed, "and perfect for each other."

He laughed quietly, and in that moment, it wasn't teasing anymore, it was easy, real, and full of something that had been there all along.

John Walker had faced entire squads of mercenaries without flinching. He'd jumped out of helicopters, led missions through chaos, stood in front of cameras with the whole world watching him.

None of it compared to how nervous he felt standing outside your door holding two takeout bags and a bouquet of daisies that were slightly wilted from the wind.

He knocked once, then twice, then realized his hand was shaking and shoved it in his pocket before he could psych himself out.

When you opened the door, his carefully rehearsed "Hey" came out more like a squeak.

You blinked, then smiled. "Hi there, Captain."

He held up the bags like a peace offering. "I, uh… brought food. Thought maybe we could do a real date. You know, without the teasing. Or with the teasing. I'm flexible."

You leaned against the doorframe, clearly amused. "Flowers and food? Someone's trying to impress me."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I figured I owed you something that didn't involve me forgetting how to talk."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," you teased, stepping aside to let him in.

He laughed, setting the bags on the table. "Okay, fair. But I did get your favorite..."

You peeked into the bag, gasping softly. "You remembered?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, shy again. "Yeah. You ordered it once after a mission and said it was your 'comfort food.' I, uh… kinda took notes."

Your smile softened. "You take notes?"

"Only when it's important," he said, voice warm.

Dinner went perfectly wrong in all the best ways, the chopsticks broke, he spilled his drink, you laughed so hard you had to lean on his shoulder to breathe. And through it all, John looked at you like he couldn't believe you were real.

Later, as you sat together on the couch surrounded by empty containers and laughter still hanging in the air, he turned to you and said, "You know… I used to think you made me nervous 'cause you liked to mess with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

"Now I know it's because I actually care what you think," he admitted quietly. "You could make fun of me all night, and I'd still think you're the best part of my day."

You went still, that soft, warm silence settling again.

Then, smiling, you said, "You realize that was actually smooth, right?"

His eyes widened. "Wait... did I just...?"

"Yeah," you laughed. "You flirted perfectly. No stammering, no panic. I think you nailed it."

He looked relieved, then grinned that boyish grin that still made your stomach flip. "Guess I finally learned something after all."

You leaned in, brushing your hand against his cheek. "Took you long enough."

He chuckled, his voice low and happy. "Yeah, but you were worth the practice."

And when you kissed him, soft, laughing, and full of everything the teasing had led to, it wasn't an accident or a flustered slip.

It was real. Earnest. Exactly how it was always meant to be.

It had been three months since that first "official" date, three months of shared breakfasts, stolen kisses between missions, and John Walker pretending he didn't melt every time you smiled at him.

You two had settled into something easy. Comfortable. Almost domestic.

Almost, because you never stopped teasing him.

The team lounge was buzzing one lazy afternoon. Yelena was flipping channels, Bucky was scrolling on his tablet, and John was sitting beside you on the couch, arm draped over the backrest.

You leaned in close, pretending to look at his phone, but mostly to whisper something only he could hear.

"You know, Captain," you murmured, your voice just low enough to make his ears turn pink, "you look good when you're all serious like that."

John froze. The phone slipped from his hand, landing face-down on his lap.

Bucky looked over with a raised brow. "Everything okay over there, Walker?"

"Yeah!" John said way too quickly. "Totally fine."

Yelena smirked. "Uh-huh. You sure? You look like someone just short-circuited your brain."

You giggled quietly, trying and failing, to hide your grin behind your mug. John shot you a look that was equal parts I love you and you're impossible.

Once the teasing from the guys died down, he leaned in closer, muttering under his breath, "You're lucky they like you."

"Oh?" you teased, eyes glinting. "And what would you do if they didn't?"

He sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I'd probably still let you get away with it."

You smiled sweetly. "That's because you adore me."

He grinned, that soft, crooked grin that still made your heart skip. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Guess I do."

You felt warmth bloom in your chest, and for a moment, the world around you faded, just his arm around your shoulders, his voice low and sincere, his blush returning right on cue when you kissed his cheek in front of everyone.

Yelena groaned. "You two are ridiculous."

John only laughed, cheeks pink and eyes shining as he pulled you a little closer.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, "but she's my kind of ridiculous."

You smiled against his shoulder, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "And you're still my favorite flustered Captain."

His quiet laugh was the kind that came from deep down, the sound of someone happy, content, and home.

pairing: Poly!P1Harmony x Idol!reader

warnings: polyamorous Relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, secret relationship, teasing, tension, reader being a tease

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Okay hear me out....poly P1Harmony competing for your attention, getting possessive and teaming up to punish you later for teasing them....absolute cinema🎥🎞️

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The lights of the award show burned bright enough to feel like a second sun, washing the venue in gold and white. Cameras floated everywhere, catching smiles, waves, polite applause. You sat perfectly straight in your seat, legs crossed just so, hands folded in your lap like you were carved there for the night.

You looked unreal. You knew it. The mirror had told you earlier, and now the way the air seemed to shift around you confirmed it.

Across the aisle, a few rows down, P1Harmony sat together in neat black suits, polished shoes, styled hair, and expressions that screamed professional idol. To the public, they looked calm, respectful, focused on the stage.

To you, they looked like wolves pretending they were statues.

You felt them before you saw them. Eyes lingered on the exposed line of your collarbone. On the slow, deliberate way you crossed your legs again. On the way the stage lights caught the shimmer of your outfit and turned you into something dangerous.

Jiung was the first to glance away when you finally looked back, jaw tightening like he had been caught stealing. Keeho did not bother pretending. He leaned back, elbow resting on the arm of his chair, eyes openly roaming you with a lazy confidence that made your lips twitch.

Levi Ackerman x reader || Spill the beans

Prompt 47 and 34-> make your own request

a “field day” turns into a confession when levi can’t hide his jealousy.

the scouts were scattered across the training field, shouts and laughter echoing as hange directed the chaos with uncontainable glee.

“all right, everyone, let’s make this interesting! capture the flag—teams are set!” hange announced, spinning a clipboard. you swallowed your nerves and jogged to your team’s designated corner, eyes scanning the field. the flag fluttered just ahead of you, and you dropped into a ready stance.

your team looked to you, the unofficial protector of the flag, and you gave a small nod. “don’t let them touch it.” your voice was calm, but inside your stomach was doing flips. you could feel levi’s eyes on you from across the field. of course. he was on the opposing team, and of course, he would be tasked with stealing your flag.

the whistle blew, and chaos erupted. you blocked attacks, tagged runners, and dodged with precise movements. then you saw him—levi, moving like a shadow between the others. your heart jumped. he wasn’t supposed to be this fast. not that it mattered; you had to stay focused.

then one of the new recruits—a clumsy, overly eager kid—grabbed your arm, laughing as he tried to pull you away from the flag. you froze for a second, annoyed, but didnt bother to shove him off.

and that’s when levi saw it.

his normally impassive face tightened ever so slightly. a spark of something you recognized all too well—jealousy—flared behind his grey eyes. and when he charged toward you, it wasn’t just to grab the flag; it was to get between you and the newbie.

you barely had time to react before he was in front of you, chest practically brushing yours.

“move,” he said, voice low, uncharacteristically rough.

you smirked, wrapping an arm around the newbie. “oh? and if i don’t?”

levi froze. for half a heartbeat, the field disappeared. only you. and the blush rising on his cheeks betrayed him. then the newbie wiggled again, making levi’s grip on his composure slip. “i—look, you—” he started, fumbling in the middle of the field.

“you what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“you’re mine,” he muttered before he could stop himself, tone loud enough that several scouts froze mid-run, staring. your jaw dropped. he blinked, realizing what he’d just said.

“shit—” you started, but hange was already laughing like a maniac.

“ohhh! looks like someone finally spilled the beans!”

levi’s face turned redder than any blood you’d ever seen. you crossed your arms, heart hammering—not from the running, not from the game, but from the fact that everyone now knew.

levi glanced at the newbie, eyes sharp, protective, flustered. “don’t… tell anyone else,” he muttered, voice almost a growl, tugging at your arm to move you out of the line of sight of other scouts.

you grinned, letting him pull you. “a little late for that babe… you might want to work on your poker face”

he groaned, dragging you behind a tree, but you could feel the heat radiating off him. his hand brushed yours, and he didn’t pull away. you squeezed his fingers.

the flag? it was forgotten. the game? irrelevant. because suddenly, the secret between the two of you wasn’t a secret anymore.

Work Husband Horangi x Reader

The HQ conference hall looks like someone tried to cross a recruitment fair with a wedding reception and then gave up halfway through. Too-bright lights hum above rows of round tables draped in regulation gray. Someone thought a chocolate fountain would “boost morale,” but it leans to one side like it’s considering desertion.

You hover near the door, already mapping escape routes. The smell of overworked catering—lukewarm meatballs, aggressively buttered rolls—hangs heavy in the air.

“Five minutes late,” a familiar voice cuts through the hum. “Unacceptable. I’ve been suffering alone.”

Horangi materializes at your elbow like a well-tailored shadow. He’s ditched the mask tonight—mandatory for “approachability”—but somehow still looks like he’s planning an extraction. Dark suit, open collar, sleeves pushed up like he’s seconds from a fight. With someone else, or himself, that is anyones guess.

“You look like you’ve been here for hours,” you reply, scanning the sea of forced smiles.

“I have.” He gestures toward the buffet table with a faint tilt of his head. “I’ve already identified every weak point in the perimeter. None of them are edible.”

You bite back a laugh. “Strategic assessment of the hors d’oeuvres?”

“Critical mission,” he deadpans. “First casualty: my dignity.”

Someone from Admin barrels past holding two flutes of sparkling something. Horangi sidesteps smoothly, then steers you with a light touch to the small of your back—barely there, just enough to make your skin spark.

“Someone owes me combat pay for this,” you murmur as he guides you toward the bar.

“I accept payment in drinks,” he says. “Preferably something not fluorescent.”

The “bar” is a folding table dressed in a white cloth that does nothing to hide its wobbly legs. A logistics officer with a novelty bow tie and the dead eyes of a man who’s been pouring flat champagne for two hours takes your order. Horangi collects two glasses and slides one to you.

“Careful,” he warns, lifting his own to the light. A single little bubble rolls along the inside of the glass until it pops alone and sad on the surface. “Tastes like betrayal.”

You clink anyway. “To surviving mandatory fun.”

“To the only person here worth talking to,” he counters, eyes glinting as the glass meets his lips.

Heat creeps up your neck before you can blame it on the room. You focus on the dance floor, where a junior analyst is attempting karaoke with the enthusiasm of a man trying to summon demons or pronounce the furniture at IKEA.

Horangi leans in, voice pitched low for you alone. “That song is a war crime.”

His breath brushes your ear; the tiny hairs on your arms stand to attention. You swallow a laugh—and maybe something else. “Think we can get extraction before the next chorus?”

“I have a plan,” he says, straight-faced. “Requires two co-conspirators. One of them is holding my drink.”

He reaches for your glass, fingers grazing yours in a deliberate, slow slide as he “tests for poison.” The contact lingers just long enough to make the air between you crackle.

“Well?” you manage.

“Definitely poisoned,” he says, handing it back with a smirk. “I’ll need another sip to confirm.”

Before you can fire back, a senior officer stumbles over to congratulate you both on “team spirit.” Horangi smiles with the politeness of a predator forced to shake hands with its prey. When the officer finally moves on, he exhales like he’s just defused a bomb.

“Minimum attendance requirement fulfilled,” he murmurs. “Time for exfil?”

“Tempting,” you say. “But what about the mission-critical chocolate fountain?”

He tilts his head, eyes dancing. “Already compromised. No tactical value.”

You laugh, louder than intended, and a few nearby heads turn. Horangi’s gaze flicks to them, protective without breaking his easy façade. Then he leans closer, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Besides,” he adds, “why stay when the only worthwhile intel is standing right next to me?”

The words land with the precision of a well-placed charge—quiet, calculated, impossible to ignore.

You’re still searching for a comeback when he offers his arm, a small, deliberate gesture that feels both old-fashioned and conspiratorial.

“Come on,” he says, mouth curving into that half-smile that always makes you suspicious and curious in equal measure. “Let’s leave before someone asks for a motivational speech.”

You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, the contact warm and steady. Together you weave through clusters of colleagues too distracted by free food to notice your escape.

At the door, he pauses just long enough for you to feel the brush of his shoulder against yours. “I knew you’d show,” he murmurs, quiet enough that the words feel like a secret.

“Wouldn’t let my work husband suffer alone,” you reply, matching his low tone.

a/n: okay but Lee is Neji’s biggest supporter ever so we know this is how it’s going to play out that he ships Neji and his s/o hardcore. BECAUSE YOUUUUTH NEJI YOU GOTTA DO THESE THINGS! warnings: none eheh just some flustered Neji and eccentric Lee

-Let’s be real though Neji is only ever going to “announce” his relationship if someone thinks they can swindle you into a relationship. He get’s very annoyed, like vein popping mad, but very calmly and cooly tells them to leave (unless you do it first, tell them to leave, his ego boosts x100) 

-So it happened when the two of you were out to lunch with Lee and Tenten. You had met up with him when they finished training and were heading to their table when you were intercepted by someone at the last second. They tried chatting you up and asking for you details for a date. 

-Both Lee and Tenten see Neji’s reaction. His fist is balled against the table and he has a scowl on his face shooting daggers at the person. He is honestly ready to jump up when you say, very proudly ‘Sorry but no thanks, the person I’m dating is at the table behind you.’ They turn and spot Neji, splutter an apology and cower away. 

-You sit beside Neji and ask if he is okay. He nods and sneakily (or so he thinks) props his hand on your thigh under the table. You place your hand in his reassuring him. You know how insecure he can be about your relationship and if you weren’t sitting with his friends you would say more.

- It’s Tenten who speaks first. ‘Wait, wait what was all that?’ Her eyes widen as if realising. ‘Are you two dating?’ 

-Lee coughs on his food, almost chocking. ‘Neji!?’ He yelled a little too loudly. ‘And you dating?????’ 

-You nod when Neji is frozen next to you. 

-’CONGRATULATIONS!’ Lee is ecstatic because two of his close friends are together and enjoying their youth so fully???? A little envious but never mind that because now both him and Tenten are bombarding you two with questions. 

-Neji has a pained expression on his face and remains silent while you take one for the team and answer all their questions to the best of your ability. Until you insist they stop so you can eat. Neji just straight up wants to die because it’s so embarrassing, even though he’s happy it is out. More so that he doesn’t have to answer the questions. 

-But then it gets worse because now every time the two of you see Lee he’s just too enthusiastic about your relationship. Well in Neji’s opinion, you are thoroughly entertained by Lee and the way Neji is getting so flustered. It’s a win win scenario. 

-The three of you are walking through Konoha and you whisper something in Neji’s ear, telling him everything will be okay. Lee sees this and mistakes it for something deeper. ‘Neji now would be the perfect time to reach out for their hand and take it in yours!’ You turn to see Lee giving a thumbs up.

-Okay NOW Neji wants to die. He just freezes, frowning and blushing all at once. You chuckle. ‘You know what that’s a wonderful idea, Lee.’ You reach down and take Neji’s hand in yours and pull him along. Neji obliges but looks off to the side, ignoring Lee’s compliments and ideas. 

-But then it gets worse because you start adding your own inputs! Neji wants to run away and just disappear all at once. 

- ‘Hey, Lee what about a kiss on the cheek? Just to show how much I’m enjoying his company?’ You feel Neji’s grip on your hand tighten and he glares at you with a furious blush. 

- Lee gasps then nods enthusiastically. ‘Yes that sounds perfect! Let me turn away and give you two some privacy!’ 

-You lean towards Neji’s cheek. ‘I hate this.’ He mumbled just before your lips reach his cheek. ‘Oh so you don’t want a kiss?’ His blush darkens. ‘I didn’t say that.’ 

-You quickly press a kiss to his cheek and chuckle. ‘I just can’t resist, you’re too loveable.’ After that he really cannot look at you. It’s too much and now you were teasing him in such a manner. 

-When Lee leaves Neji thinks he is safe but to his horror you don’t stop. You are insatiable and he can’t handle it. He swears his cheeks can’t get any hotter, his body is on fire. So embarrassed and flustered. 

i can just picture this man being like, “what the hell? absolutely not.”

i am ABSOLUTELY here for this

----------

You waited until Bucky was already tucked into bed, shirtless and half-dozing with one arm behind his head and the TV casting a faint glow across the sheets. The soft rumble of a late-night show played in the background, some cooking competition you’d both half-paid attention to during dinner.

“Bucky?” you called from the closet, a lilt in your voice that would’ve been suspicious to any man less in tune with you.

“Hm?”

“Just finishing up,” you added, sweet as sugar.

Bucky hummed again, blindly reaching for the remote on the nightstand to turn the volume down. “Don’t take too long, doll.”

You didn’t answer—too busy adjusting the delicate strap over your shoulder and smoothing the lace at your hips. You’d debated this move all week, ever since you ordered the lingerie online and hid it in your drawer like it was classified. But tonight felt like the night.