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bangtanpromptsfics · 3 years

Text

coral roses. (m)

dialogue prompt #2: “If you won't do it then I'll”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: established relationship, smut, pwp(?), fluff

word count: 1,414

warnings: making out, unprotected sex (more like a quikie(?)), top!oc, bottom!jk

summary: jungkook loses a bet because he needs to devour you

a/n: drop your feedbacks guyss!! pretty much a pwp :)

masterlist

“If you won't do it then I'll”, he grits his teeth, more like in a cute way making you chuckle. You glance at him through the book you're reading at the moment, winding up to relax from the long day.

“Well then you lose”, you coo. He plops on a farther end of the bed, bringing himself to sit on his heels.

“Why are we even doing this in the first place baby?”, he whines, tapping on your ankles a little to catch your attention. First of all you are taking a really childish challenge way too seriously and acting like a brat on top of that.

“You started it”

“I was drunk!”, he fights back, his doe shaped eyes enlarging to show his disappointment.

“It's just a few more hours Jeon. Don't be so impatient hm?”, you don't look up at him. Going on and about teasing him. He did like it sometimes, but right now wasn't the time.

To put more context, Jungkook drunk confessed that he is addicted to your lips and kept kissing them all through a party and you sort of pricked on his lack of self control. And since Jungkook is a man fond of challenges, he immediately makes a very dramatic toast with half a glass of his liqor that he won't touch you or kiss you for an entire day.

And as usual, his sober self has to bear with the consequences. To take things further down the hole, you are wearing only an oversized hoodie, fresh scent of your shampoo and skincare products around the air, sitting there with a bare face and focused eyes, though that might be just a play you're putting up.

“Aren't you going to change, just gonna sit there? Go take a shower Jungkook you are stinking”, you add, and it's a lie. He smells like his expensive collection of perfumes and much more boyfriend enough to not kiss, but...you know, ego.

To summarise, he had enough of this.

The book is yanked away from your hand. His strong hands builds a cage around your small frame and presses it against the headboard of the bed. He smirks, realising it only takes the bare minimum to make you falter.

“Okay…I lose baby. I just need you now”. he growls.

He immediately seeks home in caressing your outer thigh where your hoodie ends, and spreads them enough for him to settle better to kiss you hard. Loads of pent up frustration and he feels like he is pulled back to life when he finally presses into your mouth.

Thanks to your bratty ass, he doesn't go any easy. A shaky moan leaves your lips when his tongue licks at the floor of your mouth, but also, he isn't doing anything more than holding your thighs when you are already craving and all worked up.

You hold his wrist and try to bring it to your chest, but he slaps it away, so you go for his collars to pull impossibly closer to feel his torso on you, althoughfeeling sad with no other stimulation on your body.

When the air starts to run out, he finally inches back, licking on his lips. Your lips quirk up when he tugs at the hem of your hoodie.

“My baby didn't seem so eager earlier”, he rasps. Glad that your face stays hidden when he slowly pulls out your hoodie, leaving you in white panties.

He holds you by the waist and turns both of your bodies around so that he sits resting back on the headboard while you are straddling his lap, immediately trying to rub against his denim covered thighs for some friction.

He stops, squeezing your butt cheeks, “Patience baby, ride something better hm?”.

He chuckles at the animalistic endeavor of yours to get him naked. But you don't bother to get his pants all the way out, just enough to pull out his member.

He shudders, feeling the air cooling off the wetness on his member, and you get up just a moment enough to be completely bare while he starts stroking himself.

Removing his hands, you hold his girth, pumping it a few times to watch him sink into your touch, head falling back.

You go for his neck, determined to bring spots of purple around it. It feels like you are taking your sweet and his not-so-sweet time to go further, so his grip drops down to hook under the butt and plop you straight on the head of his cock. He holds some sort of intense eye contact, one that of beyond lust, but there is no time for any analysis when he jerks his pelvis upward to sear into you.

You clench almost pathetically around him and he groans, guiding you to bob up and down his length.

Jungkook can't come up with any coherent thoughts to word his feelings right now. He just loves you so much and very happy to have a really healthy relationship, one consistent for years and with understanding. He feels like tearing up, out of both pleasure and warmth.

He sees you fondling with your breasts so he leans forward to lick in some attention to the pebbled buds. The more faster you went on him, he suked in harder, biting around to return the artwork on his neck and along the jaw.

“I'm close baby… mngh keep going”, he aligns his movements accordingly to let you feel him as deeper as possible. You can't come up with words, except chanting his name for every clench of the wall.

Though it was just breif sex, it felt euphoric after being touch deprived. A day doesn't sound long, but he is crazy about you and could make love all day if he could.

With a silent scream, he comes, starting your own orgasm. It takes a moment to come down from the high.

You remain as you are, close and cuddled. The bed is probably stinking with sweat and arousal, but you couldn't care any less. You wrap your hands around his torso, feeling his cock softening inside you.

“I love you so much baby”, he whispers, planting a kiss to your cheek. You blush and press your cheeks to his pecs, “I love yo— what's that? ”

His pants have ridden further down his thighs and something is poking out of his pocket. You feel his heartbeat increasing against your cheek.

Fuck. It's a ring.

“Baby please don't freak out I can explain! ”, he shouts out, wrapping his hands around you more firmly, assuming the worst of the scenarios.

You hug him back, eyes still on the black velvet box spread out on the bed.

“I planned so much. I swear. I wanted to make this perfect”, he rushes to supply. He feels your warm hands rubbing his back to calm him down.

“Kookie”, you pull away from him, hands cupping his cheek because he is too terrified to look at you in the eye right now, “Please propose to me”.

He takes a moment to let your words sink in. And after, he is the quickest thing on earth to grab the box and open it.

“Y-Y/n…”.

“Take it easy. Breathe Kook. You are not breathing. It's just me. ”

That puts him into more ease. He feels embaressed that he couldn't do it in a more independent manner, the way he had them all laid out— coming Saturday at the first cafe you went on a date. It was supposed to be perfect. You would walk home holding hands, and then he would get on one knee and tell you how much you mean to him. But it's all gone now and he feels bad.

You hold his pecs and give it a pat and he smiles, a nervous one, “Y/n...will you marry me?”

You plant a sweet kiss to his lips. It feels a little salty from his incoming tears. You rub it away with the pad of your thumbs, “Yes Kookie, I'll marry you”.

“Baby you make me the happiest man alive”, he sobs. His hands still trembling to place the ring on your fingers. It's lavish and work of custom made beauty, he put months of work into it. Though things didn't go exactly planned, it was a happy ending. He can't wait to see you in a white dress at the altar, to be the father to your kids and to call you his wife for the rest of his life.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptfics

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feralthoughtdump · 3 years

Text

Arsonist’s Lullaby

Part One: Kiss With A Fist

Part Two: Only Angel

Bucky and his Angel’s relationship grow closer.

Word Count: 6.8K

CW: violence, Bucky and his nightmares, John Walker being an ass, a little bit of fluff, smut, brief shower sex, Bucky steps on the reader with his boots, spitting, choking, spanking, Bucky using his metal arm, crying, FATWS ep. 3&4 spoilers

The cold air of the cargo container was strange, given that they were in a southeast Asian island. It sent a chill down Angel’s spine. Like something would go very wrong. They survey the empty space, searching for Nagel.

Sharon was certain Nagel was here, but there was no sight of him.

But Angel could hear the slight vibrations of music coming from… somewhere.

She approaches the back of the container and feels around the rough metal wall.

“Hey, I think he may be in here.” She beckons them over.

Pressing a gloved hand onto the metal, she pushed, revealing a small laboratory in front of them.

“You three go ahead.” She mutters. “I’ll keep an eye out with Sharon.”

Before they can say anything, she strides out of the container.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Sharon crosses her arms as the door closes. “I know them well. They can hold their own.”

“Oh, I know.” Angel chuckles.

“Bucky likes to call you Angel, huh. Seems like you two bonded pretty quickly.”

She gives Sharon a humored look as they stroll around the dock.

“I thought psychopaths couldn’t form bonds.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

Their eyes dart all over the place, looking for any oncoming bounty hunters.

“How’d you get my photo anyways?”

“Heavy analysis of CCTV footage, a few phone calls, and a lot of digging. The photo was shit quality, but it was enough for me to go off of.”

“Was it enough to catch me?”

“I guess so. Then Zemo blew up the UN so we tabled the case.”

“Interesting. Maybe that UN bombing was a blessing in disguise. Saved me a life sentence in a high-security prison.”

They turned a corner.

“You wouldn’t have gone to jail. MI6 would’ve given you a job instead.”

“Hmph. I’d rather die than be a servant.”

From the corner of her eye, Angel spots a passing black shadow.

“Guys,” she presses a finger onto her earpiece. “Someone’s here.”

A gunshot rings out from the container and the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Sharon gives her a knowing look and they turn the safety off of their guns.

“Here.” Angel whispers, handing Sharon a knife. “It’ll come in handy.”

Three bounty hunters transverse on them and they open fire, taking them down one by one.

“We don’t have much time, hurry up!” Sharon yells into the earpiece.

A bounty hunter wraps their arms around Angel and she grabs a knife, jamming it into their arm.

Adrenaline floods her system, dialing her senses up to ten. A swift roundhouse kick sends another hunter tumbling to the ground.

From behind her, she hears Sam and Bucky yelling and she runs towards them.

“It’s in every action movie!” She hears Sam yell.

If her life wasn’t on the line, she would’ve laughed.

“You okay?” She pants.

“No! We’re not!” Sam yells. “Zemo shot Nagel!”

“What? Where is he?”

Her question was answered when a container set fire and exploded. She spots Zemo standing atop another, donning a purple mask. Before she can point him out, he sprints away.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Gunshots ring from her right and Bucky wraps a protective arm around her. In her peripheral she sees a bounty hunter riding towards her on a motorcycle, guns blazing. She quickly wriggles out of Bucky’s grasp and sends a knife into the tire, throwing the hunter off of the vehicle and into the fire.

“Good aim.” He says, mouth agape in surprise.

“You just threw that dude into a fire!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, well, he was going to kill us.”

They continue to run through the maze of crates, turning corner after corner, dodging bullet after bullet.

As much as he hates to admit it, the sight of Angel in action, when her violence wasn’t directed towards him, sends a rush through his system.

Zemo speeds towards them in a convertible, signaling them to get in. Sam jumps in the passenger seat while Bucky and Angel sit in the back.

Her pupils are blown wide and Bucky swears he can feel the electricity radiating off of her. Without stopping to calm down, he grabs her face in his hand and presses a passionate kiss on her lips.

His heart skips a beat when she kisses him back, and in the corner of his eye, he spots Sharon giving either him or Angel, a thumbs up.

…

Bucky makes it a habit to call her Angel all the time. He likes the way it slips off his tongue. He likes the way her eyes seem to glimmer when he calls her that. It’s as if the more he calls her Angel, she seems to glow more and more.

He calls her Angel when they board the jet on the way to Latvia.

He calls her Angel when she sits down to change the gauze on her thigh.

He calls her Angel when they get to the Riga safe house.

The more time he spends with her, the more he notices the little things about her. He notices how her tongue sticks out a little when she does her eye makeup.

He notices how her head would bop along to music in her earbuds

He notices how she’ll curl up on the couch, tucking her knees close to her body, while she sketches.

He notices how she’ll mutter curses in different languages. Mandarin, French, Russian, Spanish just to name a few.

He notices how she took off her jewelry when she showers with the exception of a gold chain. A gold chain with a dangling pendant. A pendant of a little angel.

He notices how she uses apple cinnamon body wash. It made her smell warm. It made her smell like home.

She gets along with Sam. Even Zemo.

She talks about philosophy with Zemo and when she converses with Sam, they talk about music.

She’s a force to be reckoned with. Fiery. Just like Selby had said. A firebird.

And despite her cool, hardened front, there was a gentleness to her.

The jet had touched down in Latvia late and night and they collectively decided to get a good night’s rest before finding Karli.

He had woken up from a nightmare. Reliving the memory of killing Yori’s son.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but he padded over to Angel, reading Anna Karenina. Glasses perched on her nose, hair loose and resting past her shoulders.

She looks up at him.

“Nightmare?”

Bucky nods, tears pricking are his eyes.

She places the book on the floor and stretches out on the couch.

“Come here.” She whispers arms open wider

She let him lay his head on her chest, nose pressed against her sternum. With gentle hands, she runs her fingers through his hair, slowing his rapid heartbeat.

The serum had made his hearing sharper and from his position between her breasts, he could hear the soft thumping of her heart. It calmed him.

“Can you sing to me?” He mumbles.

The hand playing with his hair stops.

“Sing to you?” She asks.

“Mhm.”

“I-“ she pauses “I don’t really-“

“Please.” He begs.

She’s quiet, just calmly stroking his hair, then she sighs.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything. Just… please, I want you to sing for me.”

She ponders for a moment before she parts her lips, voice shaky and quiet.

When I was a child, I heard voices

Some would sing and some would scream

You soon find you have few choices

I learned the voices died with me

He closes his eyes and noses at her sternum.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

The song is unfamiliar. He didn’t listen to music all that much anymore. And even when he listens to music, it was mostly from the 40s.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

Her voice, still soft and quiet, is haunting. The way it wraps around the lyrics, warms his heart. He breathes in the smell of her apple cinnamon body wash.

When I was 16, my senses fooled me

Thought gasoline was on my clothes

I knew that something would always rule me

I knew the scent was mine alone

He loves the way he can feel her chest move up and down. The way her voice sounds so rich with his ear pressed against her chest, the music echoing within her ribs.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

He reaches his hand to play with the angel pendant on her necklace. Finger running over the grooves.

When I was a man I thought it ended

When I knew love's perfect ache

But my peace has always depended

On all the ashes in my wake

As he drifts off to sleep, he can hear the last lines of the song lingering on her lips. The images from war. The torture he endured, the people he’s killed, the amends he has yet to make, all temporarily fade from his mind.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

And for the first time since Steve left, Bucky was able to sleep without disturbance.

…

“You have a lovely voice.”

Angel was pulled from her sleep when she hears Zemo’s voice.

She glares at him and places a finger on her lips, shushing him. Bucky was still lying on top of her, still asleep and she didn’t want to wake him.

“My apologies.” He smiles.

“Were you watching us last night?” She interrogates quietly.

“No, but I do have a keen sense of hearing. I heard you singing to James.”

She turns her head to meet his eyes.

“He had a nightmare. It was the least I could do for him.”

“Understandable.” He nods. “My son used to have nightmares and my wife’s voice was the only thing that could put him to sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles sympathetically. “About your family, I mean. I know you lost them a while ago.”

Her hand combs through Bucky’s hair.

“I understand how vengeance and anger overtook you. You needed your revenge. But don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt who? James?”

“Yes.” Her voice darkens. “If you lay a finger on him, I won’t hesitate to bury you.”

Zemo sighs.

“I have no intention of harming him. I see the way you look at him. It’s the same look I used to give my wife. You care for him dearly and given your line of work, I know you’d do anything to avenge the people who harm the ones you love.” He walks towards her and offers her a cookie. Angel takes it with a wary hand.

“You’ve got anything else you want to say?”

“I do have a question about that song. I knew that something would always rule me.” He quotes. “Was that about yourself, or James?”

She narrows her eyes.

“It was just a song.”

“Yet it implies that something will always have power, control, over the songwriter.” He tilts his head.

“What are you implying, Baron?”

“It’s not an implication. It’s an observation. You two share a common trait. For James, it’s his past. His time as the Winter Soldier looms over him. As for you, you seem to have this, how do I say it, a compulsion to kill. It will always stick to you.”

“Baron, I suggest you pick your next words very carefully.”

Bucky stirs and she lifts her hand from his head.

“Mmm. Good morning.” He mumbles, voice rough and heavy.

“Good morning to you too sleepyhead.” She coos, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” He hums.

She gives Zemo a look that says ‘get out.’

Zemo gives her a smirk and walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

Bucky opens his eyes and Angel can feel her heart melt. He balances himself on his arm to press a kiss to her nose.

“You look cute with bed head.” He chuckles. “So pretty. I could just eat you up.”

“You look quite pretty when you sleep.” She giggles and rubs her nose against his.

He places his head back on her chest and they lie there for a while, listening to the sounds of the city.

Finally, she sighs.

“Alright, Bucky, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He whines and wraps his arms around her.

“No, stay.”

“Bucky,” she says sternly, “I have to wash my hair, let go.”

With a huff, he sits up and lets her get off of the couch. As she stands she turns around spotting Bucky, arms crossed and a pout on his face.

“I never said you couldn’t join.”

Bucky jumps up and runs to her. He places his hands on her waist and turns her around, pressing a kiss to her lips. She links her fingers with his and he follows behind her towards the bathroom.

While they wait for the water to heat up, she reaches into her bag to pull out bottles of product.

He spots the shimmering bottle of apple cinnamon body wash and smiles.

“Apple cinnamon body wash.” He notes.

“Mhm. It's inexpensive but it smells nice.”

“It does.”

She places her hand under the stream of water and gets a feel for the temperature. The water is hot, just how she likes it. Her hands pull the t-shirt over her head and then her cotton underwear.

Bucky waits for her to step into the shower before he strips down and joins her.

A content smile crosses her face when the hot water hits her body but her peace is broken when she hears Bucky yelp.

“Why is the water so hot?”

“I like it hot.” She turns to face him and playfully pokes at his navel. “It’s relaxing.”

“You’re going to boil me alive.” He grumbles.

“If you don’t like the hot water,” She bluntly states, “then get out.”

She shampoos her hair, letting the bubbles froth around her fingers, and then she pours a bit into her hand and reaches up to massage it into Bucky’s hair.

He runs a metal finger down her sternum, collecting a bit of the bubbles that run down her body. When his finger reaches her scar, his touch lingers.

Seeing the guilt in his eyes, Angel places a finger underneath his chin and has him look into her eyes instead.

“Don’t.” She murmurs. “You’ll only torture yourself reminiscing on the past.” She pulls him under the stream, letting the water wash away the shampoo in their hair.

She’s got a meticulous shower routine, one that she likes to perform herself, yet she’s okay with Bucky standing next to her. When she combs the conditioner through her hair, she does the same for Bucky, knowing it would soften his hair even more and make it smell like vanilla and pomegranate.

She places a bit of the apple cinnamon body wash in her hands and rubs it onto his body. Her hands pay extra attention to the scar on his shoulder.

“It’s got vitamin E in it. Helps with scars.”

Bucky turns her around, making her face away from him.

She can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but she hums with relaxation when she feels his strong hands rub the body wash into her skin.

“You’ve got some knots in your shoulders.” He notes.

“I’m aware of that.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I am.”

When the water washes away the body wash, the shower is filled with the scent of apple cinnamon.

She’s surprised when she feels a kiss on the back of her shoulder but nevertheless, she enjoys it.

Bucky presses another kiss in the center of her shoulders and kisses her along the line of her back. He sinks to his knees and places a kiss onto the dimples of her back.

“Buck, what are you doing?” She smirks, turning around.

“I just wanna love on you.” He murmurs against her skin. “Can I?”

She blinks owlishly, then slowly nods her head.

“Y-yeah” she breathes.

Bucky places a kiss on her scar and runs his tongue over it, sending a fire through her.

“Open your legs for me, doll.”

She shyly parts her legs and Bucky smiles up at her.

He grabs her waist, hoisting her knees over his shoulders, pressing her back against the wall.

She lets out gaspy whines when he kisses and nips at her thighs, letting his stubble rub against the sensitive skin.

“Bucky,” she whimpers “we- we’re going to waste water.”

“Don’t worry about that, doll.” He murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good.”

He licks a stripe up her folds, causing her to gasp. She grabs onto his hair, pulling him closer.

“So sweet, baby. You taste so sweet.”

She doesn’t reply. She couldn’t. Not when he was making her feel so good.

She slaps her other hand onto the wall, trying to hold herself up. Bucky tightens his grip on her and leans in closer, continuously licking into her, making her head spin.

She tries to say something, tell him she’s close, tell him she’s going to cum quicker than she thought, but the only sounds that leave her mouth are breathy moans.

When he pulls away, she whines. He gives her a cocky grin.

“Wanna cum?”

She vigorously nods her head.

“That’s a shame.” He lets go of her legs, almost dropping her onto the tile, and wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. “We’ve got a big day ahead.” His tone is teasing, almost mean. “I’ll let you cum later.”

She’s left on the edge, and she’s angry. No, not angry. Frustrated. Frustrated and desperate.

“You’re mean.” She grumbles, shutting off the water.

“If you give me attitude, I won’t let you cum at all.” He chuckles.

She pushes him away and wraps a towel around her body.

“I don’t need you to cum anyways.” She grumbles under her breath.

As she walks away, he grabs her by the back of her neck and pulls her into his chest.

“If I were you,” He lowers his lips to her ear, “I’d behave. Now,” he releases his grip and gives her ass a smack. “Get dressed, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

She digs through her duffel to find a simple red jumpsuit. The neckline is low enough to be teasing, but it had enough support and pockets to be practical.

“Sounds like someone had a good morning.”

She turns around, a big grin stretching across her face when she sees Sam.

“Sam! Good morning!” She cheers.

“No need to good morning me when I woke up to the sound of fucking.” he grumbles, annoyance in his voice.

She chuckles as she buttons the front of her jumpsuit.

“So, Bucky tells me we have a lot going on today. What’s on the itinerary?”

“Hopefully, we can track down Karli and convince her to stop. At least that’s my plan.”

“Sounds good.”

He grabs his jacket from the chair. “I’m headed out to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”

“I’m okay.” She smiles at him. “Thanks for asking.”

Sam reaches the door and turns around.

“One more thing, you’ve got a great voice.”

“Was I that loud or did no one sleep at all last night?”

Sam chuckles.

“I think after the past few days, it’s hard for anyone to get a good night's sleep.” He looks down, fiddling with his fingers. “What you did… what you did for Bucky in Madripoor, when we were undercover…”

“What did I do?” She asks curiously.

“When Zemo had him go all Winter Soldier, you fought alongside him, you got to that first guy before Bucky did.”

Angel is quiet. She says nothing, looking down at her hands and picking at her cuticles.

“He might not say this to your face, but I’ve been around him long enough to know that he’s thankful. And so am I.”

She doesn’t know what to say. What would she even say?

“I can see now why he likes calling you Angel.”

With that, the door closes.

She walks over to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets. The shelves were fairly empty, mostly just tins of cookies and candy, and a box of cherry blossom tea. She huffs in frustration when her fingers brush over the tin of candy, barely moving it.

“Need some help, doll?”

Bucky grabs the tin and places it on the counter.

Her frustration is reignited at the sight of him in a tight, black t-shirt. She wants him to bend her over, fuck her until she sobs.

But she knows he won’t give her that.

Before she can grab it, Bucky holds it above his head.

“You’re evil.” She mutters. “Come on, give me it.”

“Nope!” He smirks.

“Go fu-“

She yelps when Bucky loops his thumb through the belt loop of her jumpsuit and pulls her close to him.

“Remember what I told you? Watch your language.”

“Give me the candy or you’re not getting head for a week.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he hands her the box.

“Thank you.”

She presses a kiss to his nose and walks away with the box.

She knows what Bucky’s doing. He’s riling her up, teasing her.

But two can play that game.

She sits up on the counter and opens the tin.

Turkish Delight. Candy she used to eat as a child.

He’s staring at her. She can feel it. Her fingers pluck a candy from the box and hold it up.

“Want one?”

Bucky walks over to her and wedges himself between her thighs.

“Sure.”

She unwraps the candy and places a finger on his chin, beckoning him to open his mouth.

Her fingers place the treat on his tongue.

“Sweet, isn’t it?”

He kisses her and she can taste the sugar on his lips.

“Almost as sweet as you.”

She grabs another and hops off of the counter, humored by Bucky’s frustrated look.

“Sam probably wants everyone ready by the time he gets back. So, I don’t know.” She eyes him up and down, ready to drool at the sight of his arms. “Get dressed.”

“Oh doll, I’m already dressed.” He chuckles.

“Good. Then help me out.” Her fingers deftly unbutton the top of her jumpsuit, exposing her black sports bra. She reaches for her harness and shoves it in Bucky’s hands. “Buckle me in.”

…

Sex was the last thing on her mind when she’s face to face with the new Captain America.

“Karli Morganthau is too dangerous for you to be pulling this shit.” He yells.

Angel rolls her eyes at the sight of John Walker.

“How’d you find us now?” Bucky replies, voice full of annoyance.

“You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

Angel’s seen his face in the news. Lemar, the better of America’s new dynamic duo.

“No more keeping us in the dark, and you can tell us why you broke him” John points to Zemo “out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky answers.

“That is an unbelievable explanation! And who the hell are you?” He points to Angel.

“I’m a friend.” She grumbles, eyes narrowed.

“You have no business being here. And whatever you’re wearing, all you’re going to do is draw attention.”

“And your little Mr. America getup isn’t?”

“Why don’t you go back to working in European intelligence or whatever it is you do.”

“You better watch your mouth, Mr. Walker.” She snarls. “Is that really how you speak to a lady?”

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupts their feud.

“Well, where?”

“All we know is,” Sam answers, “It’s a memorial. We’ll intercept her there.”

“That means civilians, high risk of casualties.” Lemar states.

“Alright good.” John schemes. “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.”

“Not a good idea, John.” Angel retorts. He halts in his steps and turns to her.

“You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into. This is an American situation.”

She leans in until she’s staring into his eyes. Rage broils inside of her.

“Let me tell you something John, I don’t care about your medals of honor. I don’t care that you’re wearing that red and blue suit. So I’ll tell you this once, and only once. If you dare speak to me like this again, I won’t hesitate to-“

Bucky pulls her back, giving her a stern look.

“Hey,” he rubs her shoulder, trying to settle her anger. “He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, so she’s your little girlfriend huh?”

Angel presses the tip of her knife against his chin and backs him into a wall.

“You stay out of Bucky’s business.” She seethes.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

This time, both Sam and Bucky had to pull her away, but she keeps her murderous glare trained on him.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes. Keep your little psycho under control.” John spits.

“Hey, don’t speak to her like that,” Sam demands. “Just because you don’t know her doesn’t give you an excuse to be rude.”

“Either you show her some respect,” Bucky says “or all of the help we have to offer is off of the table.”

Sam nods in agreement and eventually so does Zemo, who adds a small shrug.

“I wasn't actually going to kill him.” She mutters under her breath.

“We know.” Sam pulls her into a side hug. He directs his words back to John. “I want to talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.”

“Look, the person closest to her died. She’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her, it’s now.”

“What?” John halts in his steps. “No, wait stop. We are way past reasoning with her.”

“Sam,” Lemar states. “If you walk in there cold, you could die.”

“But if you walk in guns blazing, you could have the blood of hundreds of civilians on your hands.” Angel folds her arms. “Besides, if things go wrong, I’m trained in mixed martial arts.”

“You think a black belt will save you from a super-soldier?”

Angel snorts.

“It has before.”

Bucky looks down and stifles a laugh.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam argues with John. “This is in my wheelhouse.”

They’re all silent, staring daggers at each other.

“John,” Lemar breaks the silence “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” He gives Angel a kind smile. “And I think we give this girl a chance to show us what she’s got.”

“Thank you.” She smiles back.

“I’m sure this can all come to an agreeable conclusion.” Zemo points forward. “My associate is just up ahead.”

They watch as Zemo approaches a young girl, handing her some money. She beckons them to follow her down a cobblestone path, into a building, and through the boiler room.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” John states while handcuffing Zemo to a pipe. “Then we’re doing things my way.”

While they wait, Angel spends her time playing with her butterfly knife, spinning the handle around her fingers.

“How do you not cut yourself doing that?” Lemar asks.

She spins the knife closed.

“I have before, it’s just about practice and being careful. Here, I’ll show you.”

Bucky observes Angel showing off her knife tricks to Lemar.

Despite the stressful situation, he still felt a pang of possessiveness. She was his Angel. He gave her that name and when she said she’d accepted it. In a way, she was his and he was hers.

“What’s your name? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

He hears Lemar ask.

Angel giggles.

“It’s Artemis. Like the goddess.”

Artemis. It’s fitting, Bucky thinks. The goddess of the hunt.

“That’s really cool. Let me guess, your parents were huge mythology fans?”

“You can say that.” She chuckles.

His eyes narrow when she smiles at Lemar.

Their conversation continues and Bucky’s jealousy burns brighter when she places her fingers on the fabric of Lemar’s suit, giving him a comment on how she’s got an eye for fashion and how nice the fabric was. From his position by the door, he sees her turn to him and give him a wink.

Bucky scowls. That little minx.

John crosses his arms and stares daggers into her.

“What exactly do you do, anyway?” He scoffs. “Are you some kind of spy?”

Angel raises a brow.

“I’m not a spy. I’m just a problem solver.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John shakes his head and secures the shield on his arm. “Nevermind. I’m going in.”

“Oh, come on John, it’s only been eight minutes.”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not-” Angel sighs and turns away, focusing her attention on pulling her hair back.

Bucky stops him before John can get through the doorway.

“It must be so easy for you.” John’s voice is full of malice. “All that serum running through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Bucky can see Angel slowly shake her head, telling him not to give in to John’s words. But he can’t. He’s already done so much harm. He’s responsible for the deaths of so many people, he can’t let Sam become another.

So, he lets John walk past him, Lemar following along.

Angel runs up to him.

“Bucky, why’d you do that?”

“I can’t… I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing him.”

She sighs and places a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I understand.” Her lips land a gentle kiss on his nose. “But don’t let his words get to you. Now,” She grins and lightly smacks his ass. “Go make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.”

With one final kiss, Bucky runs off.

She turns around to see the handcuffs dangling from the pole. Her blood runs cold. Zemo escaped and who knows what he’ll do.

She runs through the halls, boots quietly slapping on the concrete floors. From her left, she hears a series of loud gunshots and crunching glass.

Her feet lightly tread next to the walls, ears picking up every little sound.

She jumps, heartbeat pounding when the thump of a body falling to the ground meets her ears.

Did Zemo kill someone? Was it Karli? Another Flag-Smasher?

She runs through the door closest to her. From behind a table, she spots John staring at a small vial. A small vial of the serum. Before she can say anything, he runs away.

As she quietly walks into the room, she spots Zemo, lying on the ground, unconscious. No one else was here.

She crouches down next to him and gently shakes his shoulder.

“Baron? Zemo? Come on, wake up.”

He doesn’t move.

She picks up his wrist, pressing her pointer and middle fingers on the vein. A sigh of relief passes her lips at the feeling of a pulse.

Her hands shake his shoulder again, this time, with more vigor.

“Zemo!” She shouts.

His eyes snap open and he groans in pain.

“You passed out Baron.”

“I’m aware.” He grumbles. “John Walker threw the shield at me.”

“Of course he did.”

She offers him a hand and helps him stand up.

“Can you walk?” She asks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

The two make their way through the city until they reach Zemo’s apartment. Sam was already there, typing away on his computer.

Angel wets a towel in the kitchen and hands it to Zemo.

“Go, lie down. Put this over your eyes.”

She walks down the hall towards Bucky’s room. With a tired sigh, she removes her shoes, jumpsuit, and harness.

Her eyes close as she lies on the bed in her underwear. The sports bra felt much too tight but she didn’t care. She was tired. Her morning sexual frustration had caught up to her but she didn’t feel like doing anything about it.

Even though it was only seven in the evening, she just wanted to sleep.

Right when she’s drifting off to sleep, the slam of the bedroom door jolts her awake.

Bucky is standing in front of her, arms crossed, eyes filled with rage.

“Get off the bed.” He snarls.

She laughs and rolls over onto her stomach.

“No. If sex is what you want, let’s do it on the bed.”

She hears a sigh behind her and her eyes widen when she feels Bucky’s hands wrap around her ankles.

“Buck, what are you-”

Her words come to a halt when he pulls her off of the bed and onto her knees.

“You wanted me to fuck you?” He seethes. “Fuck you rough until you can’t speak?”

“That was the plan.” She smirks.

He twists a hand in her hair and pulls her head back. Her breath is shallow as she looks up, meeting Bucky’s angry eyes.

He’s mad. At the entire Karli situation, and maybe with her. But his anger towards her, she assumes, is fiery, lustful anger. Anger that she can have a lot of fun with.

“If you had let me cum earlier,” She snaps, “ maybe I wouldn’t have been such a brat.”

She rubs her thighs together, trying to alleviate the arousal burning through her. A whine leaves her lips when he kicks her legs apart.

He tightens his grip on her hair.

“You really need to learn some respect.”

Bucky places the toe of his boot on her back and pushes her face down onto the floor. She doesn’t resist, giving in to his dominance.

“Aww, look at you,” he mocks, “You were so bold earlier, my Angel. Where did that fire go?”

Her heart swells. He’s no longer calling her Angel. He’s called her his Angel. She was his.

Footsteps echo around her and she takes a shaky breath when his black boots come into view.

“Look at me, doll. I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

His voice is commanding, authoritative. It drew her in, made her head spin.

She looks up at him with wide eyes as he bends down on a knee.

“Were you trying to rile me up? Trying to make me angry?”

She nods.

Bucky roughly grabs her chin, cold metal digging into her cheeks.

“Use your words.”

“Y-yes Sergeant.” She squeaks.

He stares down at her, anger and lust in his eyes.

“Open your mouth.”

Her lips part and Bucky spits, letting his saliva pool on her tongue.

His fingers press on her chin, closing her mouth. She swallows, heat burning in her tummy.

“So now, you want to be a good girl, huh?”

He picks her up by her neck and shoves her face into the soft mattress. His fingers loop around the elastic waistband of her panties and pull, the fabric digging into her cunt.

“Yes, I’m your good girl.” She whines. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

He leans in close, his warm breath brushing over her ear.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rears his metal hand against her ass, leaving a red handprint of her skin.

A choked breath leaves her lips. She relishes in the pain and gives him a cocky smile.

“Is that all you got Sarge?”

He lands another hard smack, this time on her thigh. A whimper escapes her lips.

“Oh, you’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

He shifts his hand on her neck, wrapping it around the front of her neck. She squeezes at the sides, slowing the circulation of blood to her head.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the hand on her throat stops the words from leaving her lips.

The clinking of his belt buckle sends a wave of lust through her.

She was finally getting what she wanted.

His hand on her neck is released and she takes in a sharp breath.

He pulls her panties down her legs and throws them to the side.

She gasps at the feeling of cold metal rubbing between her folds. Her fingers dig into the sheets, grabbing at the fabric.

“You’re practically dripping.” He muses, “Who knew you were such a masochist?”

“Only for you.” She keens.

“Only for me? Not for anyone else?”

“Yes! Yes! Only you!”

Bucky hums and lands another smack on her ass. She yelps and tears threaten to spill from her eyes.

He shoves two fingers inside of her and she gasps at the cool feeling of the metal.

She squirms around as he twists his fingers, pressing against that spot inside of her.

Hunger swarms her brain. She wanted, no, needed more.

What he’s doing is sadistic, she thinks. Constantly bringing her to the edge, but never letting her tip over.

He lets his thumb press against her clit and the tears she’s been trying to hold back spill over. She lets out a quiet sob into the sheets but Bucky doesn’t stop his movements.

“I need more.” She quietly whimpers.

“You think you have the right to beg?” He asks nonchalantly. “After that little show?”

“I’m sorry.” She cries.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she turns her head, letting her cheek rest on the bedsheets. When she glances up, she can see Bucky’s amused smirk.

She feels the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance and she holds her breath.

“Oh doll,” he coos, thumbing away her tears, “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

A sudden thrust of his hips buries his cock inside of her. Bucky clamps his hand over her lips, muffling her desperate cries.

“Shh, shh,” He whispers gently. “It’s okay, love. Be a good girl and take it.”

He starts moving, his hips slowly thrusting into her. The fire inside of her burns, hotter and hotter. Her head is reeling as she feels herself come closer to her impending orgasm. Despite how rough he is with her, she feels safe. Safe with him. She feels safe enough to fall into submission, open and pliant for him.

Her sobs against his hand become louder, more intense and he bends down to nip at her neck.

“Are you gonna cum, angel? Cum all over my cock?”

She nods, eyes squeezed shut.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He asks.

“No,” she mumbles against his hand. “But I want to.”

He brushes his fingers down the length of her back and she shivers.

“You wanna cum, doll? Ask nicely.”

He releases his hand and grabs her hip, pulling her deeper onto his cock.

“Please.” She gasps. “Please, let me cum!”

“You have to do better than that.”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you! I’ll never flirt with anyone again! Just please! Please, I wanna cum.”

He picks up his pace, and she finds it harder to stave off her orgasm.

“So polite.” He hums, “But not yet.”

She lets out a pathetic sob.

“Please.” She whimpers.

“Be patient. You’ll get to cum soon.”

Her breaths are shallow as she tries to keep herself from cumming. She bites down on her lower lip but the pain does little to help.

Relief washes over her when Bucky speaks again.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. Come on angel, cum for me.”

Her teeth bite down on the sheets as she’s hurtles over the edge, her orgasm sending shockwaves through her body.

As her chest heaves and her mind becomes foggy, she can barely feel Bucky pull out and releases him cum on her back.

She lies there, upper half sprawled over the mattress, a dopey smile on her face. A hum of pleasure slips past her lips when Bucky wipes his cum away with a warm washcloth.

“You okay, doll?” He asks.

She nods her head.

The bed shifts as he sits on the bed and pulls her towards him.

“Come on,” He lies down and pulls her close to him. He noses at the back of her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

The sun was about to set, bathing their bodies in a golden glow. He runs his metal fingers over her bicep, cooling down her heated skin.

She’s tired, so tired. Yet she’s happy. The first time in a long time that she’s actually felt happy.

“Bucky?” She asks in a fucked out daze.

“Yes my angel?”

A moment of silence passes.

“You’re the only one who’s made me feel human.”

...

Once again, tysm @sojournmichael for reading over my little snippets of writing!

#bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #bucky fanfic

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neha24blog · 6 months

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San Francisco, 26 March 2024: The Report Breastfeeding Accessories Market Size, Share & Trends Analysis Report By Product (Breast Cooling Pads, Nursing Tank Tops, Breastmilk Storage & Feeding, Postpartum Recovery Accessories), By Region, And Segment Forecasts, 2024 – 2030 The global breastfeeding accessories market size is anticipated to reach USD 3.90 billion by 2030 and the market is projected…

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quirklessthot · 4 years

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request: smut with creepy stalker!momo? please 😭✋

warnings: 18+, stalking, non-con, yandere

➤ When you get the job offer to work at the Creati’s hero agency, you nearly pass out. It was a rigorous interview process and you managed to beat out hundreds of other applicants to become the personal assistant of Japan’s number eight hero

➤ I don’t see Momo as the “follow you around, break into your home” type of stalker. Why would she do all that dirty work when she has the funds and connections to keep track of your every move from the comfort of her home?

➤ She would have files with every bit of information she can find on you. Your birthday, birthplace, address, parents’ names, pets, favourite food, phobias...

➤ There’s nothing that Momo doesn’t know about you

➤ And that makes it so easy to befriend you. She already knows all of your likes and dislikes. She already knows you. It’s like you two are practically dating already! Especially since she was so generous to give you such a coveted position

➤ What, you thought you got the job because of your resume and references? Ha! You’re there because Momo wants you there

➤ You spend a lot of time together, and not just as boss and employee. You try your best to keep things professional – you don’t want to lose this job after all – but Momo is adamant on making your relationship more intimate than it’s supposed to be

➤ Months pass and Momo becomes more and more agitated. Why are you so unreceptive to her flirtations?

➤ Every compliment she gives, you shoot down with a polite rebuff. She tries to get physically close to you, but you insist on a distance of at least two feet between you. Even the gifts she tries to give you are turned down

➤ Apparently a diamond bracelet and a Chanel handbag for your two-month anniversary are ‘too extravagant’ for a lowly assistant

➤ But to Momo, nothing is too grand or expensive for her darling; she would give you the world on a silver platter if you asked for it

➤ At least you’re amicable to going out on dates with her. You call them ‘errands’ but she knows better, and soon, you will too

---

“Miss Yaoyorozu, there’s an urgent--”

“We’ve gone over this already,” Momo sighs from behind her desk. “I told you to call me Momo.”

You hesitate in the doorway of her office, clutching the files for her latest hero analysis close to your chest. “I don’t think that’s very appropriate, ma’am…”

“Oh! Or Yaomomo,” she continues, as if you hadn’t spoken. “My friends back in high school used to call me that.”

You’re powerless against the bright smile she sends your way and you give in, compromising on calling her by her first name when only no one else is around.

Momo would prefer you do it especially in front of others, but the relationship is still fairly new, and you do seem to be the shy type, so she lets it slide for now.

You continue you work, blissfully unaware of the looks of longing (tinged with possessiveness) that your boss sends you throughout the day. The following morning, as you’re heading out with Momo to get the busy day started, she instead has you drop her home to pick up something very important that she needs.

“A quick in and out, I promise!”

Which is why you’re so confused when she walks into her kitchen and turns the stove on under a stainless-steel kettle.

“Momo?”

She is elated that you call her by her first time without her having to prompt or correct you. She smiles and hums in acknowledgment as she goes around her kitchen to collect a platter of snacks and teabags big enough for a tea party.

You check your phone for the time. “I thought you said this wouldn’t take long. You have a meeting at eleven-thirty and a photoshoot with Hero Weekly magazine later this afternoon.” We don’t have time for this, you want to add but hold your tongue. Creati might be friendly to a concerning degree but she’s still your boss.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Momo laughs, pulling out two dainty teacups and setting them down on the counter where you’re seated. “We’ve got plenty of time for that.”

Right.

As Momo gets the tea together, you take the time to look around. “You have a lovely home, by the way.”

Lovely doesn’t begin to describe it. The enormous space is elegant and classy – much like its owner. Top hero rankings really do pay the bills. You imagine coming from money probably doesn’t hurt either.

“Thank you,” Momo says, handing you a delicate cup on a matching saucer. “I’m glad you like it.”

You nod in thanks and take a sip of the piping hot black liquid. It’s delicious and obviously high-quality. But you can’t help but notice the odd aftertaste - an almost bitter undercurrent that has you pausing for just a second. But not wanting to seem rude, you ignore it, silently finishing your cup while Momo slowly sips her own tea, looking on with a hidden smile.

It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling unusually drowsy. The room starts to spin as your vision blurs around the edges. You attempt to speak but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, heavy and unwilling to from words so that anything that comes out is stilted and slurred.

“Oh dear, I think I made the dose too high,” you hear Momo mumble worriedly to herself.

You want to ask her what she means but it’s taking all of your energy just to stay awake. You allow her to sling a lifeless arm over her shoulders and drag you deeper into the house, into what you assume is her bedroom and onto what you assume is her bed.

“So beautiful…” she murmurs, using the back of her hand to gently stroke your cheek, nothing but adoration in her gaze. She leans down to place a gentle kiss to your lips and the unexpected action has you tensing up – as much as your body would allow, anyway.

Confusion mars her perfect features when you try to turn your head away and begin grumbling incoherently in protest.

“You’re not into…? But you had a girlfriend in your second year of college. You two only just recently broke up.”

Your brows furrow. How the hell does she know that…?

You attempt to voice that concern aloud but whatever was put in your tea has you fighting to stay conscious, until you finally succumb. The last thing you hear is Momo wishing you sweet dreams.

You come to sometime later, groggy and dazed, with a slight pain thumping at your temples. You groan and move to rub the sleep out of your eyes, but your hand is caught fast. Your eyes flick up from the padded cuff circling your wrist, up the gleaming metal chain to where it’s attached to the headboard; your other wrist is secured just as tightly.

Just as you start to panic, the door opens and in steps Momo. She’s out of her hero costume and in an oversized white sweater and black leggings.

“Miss Yaoyorozu!” you shout, nearly hysterical. “W-what’s going on? Why am I tied up?!”

Momo tuts, a small frown tugging at her lips. “Momo, dear,” she corrects gently.

Your boss’ behaviour has you baffled and a little apprehensive. Why is she acting as though having her personal assistant tied up in her bed is completely normal? Momo moves over to you, fluffing up the pillow your head is resting on, and asks if you’re comfortable.

You begin to tremble. “Miss Yao--”

A hand is on your jaw, squeezing tight enough to effectively shut you up.

“If you don’t stop calling me that I’m going to have to punish you.”

Momo leans over you, uncomfortably close as she keeps your face in a vice-like grip, perfectly manicured nails digging into the skin of your cheeks. Her tone is soft but strict, like a parent berating their child.

“Do you understand?”

Timidly, you nod your head.

Satisfied with your compliance, Momo lets go of your jaw to softly rub a thumb along the irritated skin. “I’m sorry, love. I hate being so rough with you. But we’ve got to nip those nasty little habits in the bud.”

“M-Momo?” You hate how shaky and small your voice is, but you continue when she hums in question. “What’s going on? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What’s not to understand?”

She can’t be serious can she? You swallow past the rising ball of panic in your throat. “I want to go home.”

“You’re already home, love,” she says with a chuckle. As if it’s the most well-known thing in the world and you’re being silly.

You immediately switch to another tactic. You’re going to have to play along if you want any chance of escape. “O-of course. Um, could you untie me? It’s a little uncomfortable,” you say, glancing up to where you’re tied to the headboard. You’ve never had any kind of combat training but maybe you can find a way to trick or overpower her once your hands are free. Going up against a Pro Hero is the last thing you want to do but you have to at least try.

Momo’s answer is swift and simple. “No.”

“No?” you repeat dumbly.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” she says with a laugh, high and bell-like. “Oh, my silly little baby, do you really think you have a chance of fighting me? You’re not going anywhere, and you can’t escape. So you’d might as well get that thought out of your empty little head.”

The patronizing quality of her jab leaves you feeling utterly defeated and you sag in your bonds.

“Don’t pout, beautiful. I’ll make it all better,” she says, hand pressing into your stomach as she moves onto the bed to hover above you. She leans down and plants an unsuspecting kiss onto your lips. You try desperately to pull away, but your efforts go completely ignored as she deepens the kiss, running her tongue along the seam of your tightly closed lips.

The hand on your stomach slips upwards to cover one of your breasts. She gives it a squeeze, trapping your nipple between her fingers. The action has you squirming, and you let out an involuntary moan.

“Good girl,” Momo purrs against your lips.

“Get off,” you respond in protest. “Get off of me!”

“Behave,” she scolds, sliding her hands down your body until she has a strong grip on your hips. She plays with the hem of the large cotton t-shirt you’re wearing – definitely not the suit you put on this morning; she must have changed you while you were knocked out. With dread, you also realize that you’re not wearing any underwear.

Momo lifts up the only piece of clothing you have on and tucks in under your chin, allowing her eyes to freely roam the expanse of your naked body. “You’re perfect,” she breathes out, reverent. “I’ve wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you, you know.”

A finger glides up the curve of your breast to circle your nipple, stroking over the quickly hardening peak. Your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip, desperate to not let any noises slip out. But you can’t hold back the squeak when you feel her warm, wet mouth descend on your breast. You squirm at the way her tongue flicks over your nipple and her teeth

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, she slips a hand down to rest against your mound. Those graceful fingers slide down to pet against the lips of your cunt, slipping down even further to play with your hole.

She toys with you for a while, mouth firmly attached to your breast, sucking on your nipple until you can’t hold back your cries any longer. She slips a finger inside of you, the movement made easy by the copious amounts of slick. Another soon joins, slowly fucking you in a way that has your toes curling. The wet squelching sound is piercing in the otherwise quiet room; you ball your fists and shut your eyes tight, embarrassed by the way your traitorous body is responding.

You almost scream when Momo’s thumb begins to rub firms circles into your sensitive clit and within seconds you’re cumming all over her fingers. She doesn’t stop until you’re close to another orgasm.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” she praises, slipping her fingers out of you.

You just lay there, panting and trying to come to terms with the fact that your boss just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life.

She holds up her fingers, the slim digits are covered in your slick. The embarrassment from witnessing how much you enjoyed that makes you want to crawl into a hole. But Momo shows no such reservations and pops them into her mouth, eyes closing and moaning as though she’s tasting the sweetest honey.

“If I had known you tasted this good I would have done this a long time ago,” Momo chuckles. “Good enough to eat.”

The hungry glint in her eyes has you quickly clamping your thighs together but it’s embarrassingly easy for her to pry them apart, holding you open and spread out in the most intimate of ways.

Despite the horror you’re feeling, you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of Momo getting comfortable on her stomach and leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your mound. She starts with kitten licks against your folds that that have unwanted excitement pooling in your belly, before licking a broad stripe from your wet, twitching hole to your clit. Her lips close over the little nub, taking it into her to suckle and lave with attention. You moan and buck your hips up into her mouth, desperate to feel more of her tongue.

She lets go of your clit to close her mouth of you entirely, tongue wriggling inside, your walls immediately clench down on the slippery intrusion. You keen, back arching as your pussy releases a wave of slick, which Momo is more than happy to lap up, moaning hungrily. With the amount of noise she’s making, you’d think she’s the one being pleasured. She hums and sighs as she works you over, obvious in her enjoyment of eating you out.

Your body tenses and you throw your head back with a scream. You can’t stop yourself from cumming a second time – this one just as intense as the last.

Before you know it, Momo is undressed and shuffling until she’s kneeling directly over you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she wants to do.

“It’s only fair, right?” she asks, thighs straddling your head. She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s lowering herself down onto your face. “Don’t disappoint me, ok?”

Her tone is sweet enough, but the threat is clear.

Without much of a choice, you stick your tongue out and begin lapping at her pussy. She’s already soaking wet, worked up from giving you pleasure. You use every trick you knew to get her off as quickly as possible. Luckily, it doesn’t take long.

“Oh, god! Yes!” she’s soon crying out, writhing on your tongue. “Please, baby. Please make me cum! Make me -ah!”

Momo grinds down harder and her pace picks up until she suddenly stops, hips giving short jerks as she whines and lets out a satisfied little sigh. She pulls away, shuffling down your body until she can lie down beside you to hug you close.

“You did wonderful, darling,” she praises, still slightly out of breath.

You say nothing but Momo is having none of that. She taps a finger against your slick-covered lips. “What do we say when someone compliments you, sweetie?”

You try to blink back tears. You’re really not getting out of here are you?

“Thank you,” you reply obediently.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #momo x reader #yandere #yandere mha #noncon tw #tw: noncon

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josienguyen1102 · 3 years

Text

Week 6 - How ideal body image on social media affect women's health

Thin-ideal body image on social media

Until recently, the thin-ideal (slender, flat-chested, small-waisted female physiques) commanded White-centred mainstream media as the stereotypical depiction for beauty and was heavily pushed across various media, including television and publications, and notably social media (Ghaznavi & Taylor 2015). The slim-pervasiveness ideal is alarming since the media is not only the most prominent and influential sociocultural transmitter of beauty standards but also frequently includes images of celebrities who are unnaturally thin or appealing (McComb & Mills 2022). Every day, women are confronted with various skinny, attractive models and celebrities in the media. Meta-analyses of both interventional and correlational research have indicated that thin-ideal press coverage had a persistent and small-to-medium detrimental effect on women's body image (Brown & Tiggemann 2016). Women are demanding particular body features of celebrities, such as Kim Kardashian's eyes and jawline, as part of a new plastic surgery obsession (PRNewires 2015). For example, Claire Leeson, an English woman, has spent $30,000 for her "Kardashianization process," which includes but is not limited to breast implants, teeth whitening, hair extensions, and, most notably, butt padding (Time 2014)

Fitspiration and thinspiration, often known as "fitspo" and "thinspo," refer to social media accounts and pictures that urge people to be fit and thin. When we look at a fitspo or thinfitspo photo, we see individuals continually comparing themselves to unattainable goals, believing it is natural to compare with those in good shape rather than merely slender and thus creating a form of healthy inspiration. However, these photographs' physique is frequently unrealistically skinny and is frequently altered using Photoshop to create a faultless, ideal body image. Since photographers and social media users have developed a common practice to digitally modify pictures to smooth and brighten skin, remove fat from body parts, and extend body parts or overall body images, the slim ideal has grown even thinner and more feasible for the average woman. (McComb & Mills 2022)

2. The impact on mood and psychological health

According to researchers, spending more time on Facebook relates to much more regular physique and weight comparisons, as well as unpleasant thoughts about one's body (Heger 2020). Exposure to thin-ideal images on social media, as well as social comparison to it, is correlated with greater body dissatisfaction, self-objectification, and decreased mood in both teenage girls and adult women (McComb & Mills 2022). Interpersonal attractiveness to slim celebrities was positively connected with eating disorder symptoms instead of average or obese celebrities. (Brown & Tiggemann 2016)

References:

Brown, Z & Tiggemann, M 2016, "Attractive celebrity and peer images on Instagram: Effect on women's mood and body image", Body Image, vol. 19, pp. 37-43.

Ghaznavi, J & Taylor, L 2015, "Bones, body parts, and sex appeal: An analysis of #thinspiration images on popular social media", Body Image, vol. 14, pp. 54-61.

Hjarvard, S., 2008. The mediatization of society: A theory of the media as agents of social and cultural change. Nordicom review, 29(2), pp.102-131.

Heger, E 2020, Why social media can make you feel bad about your body — and 3 easy tips to use social media to boost self-esteem, viewed 25 March, 2022, <https://www.insider.com/how-social-media-affects-body-image>.

McComb, S & Mills, J 2022, "The effect of physical appearance perfectionism and social comparison to thin-, slim-thick-, and fit-ideal Instagram imagery on young women’s body image", Body Image, vol. 40, pp. 165-175.

PRNewires 2015, Annual AAFPRS Survey Reveals Celebrity Look-Alike Surgery On The Rise, viewed 25 March, 2022, <https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/annual-aafprs-survey-reveals-celebrity-look-alike-surgery-on-the-rise-300024032.html>.

Time 2014, This Woman Has Spent $30,000 to Look Like Kim Kardashian, viewed 25 March, 2022, <https://time.com/2987566/kim-kardashian-lookalike-claire-leeson/>.

#mda20009 #body image #social media #fitspo #thinspo #celebrities #woman #eating disorder

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marryp · 2 years

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factmrsposts · 2 years

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

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Where, when and how - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader

Wordcount: 1.0k words

Genre: smut, fluff, (Taehyung’s contains a fair bit of angst)

Rating: 18+

Hello lovelies! Since quarantine is separating many lovers all around the world I thought about how the boys would handle being away from their girlfriend. It’s obviously smutty. Every piece is about 1000 words each.

Trigger warning: swearing; smut, hinted and sometimes pretty descriptive, really it depends. LOADS OF SEX TOYS (it was supposed to be a sex-toy themed thingy because yay!self-love and yes, you can use them together with your significant other too), some mild bdsm here and there, praise kink (you know where it comes from), swearing and alcohol (nothing extreme, just tipsy), masturbation and that should be pretty much everything. Also, nipple piercing? Tae is frustrated, Jimin is the bratties brat to ever brat (takes one to know one LOL) and Koo is a switch (and by switch I mean he’s shy but nasty, and I still don’t know what’s his trigger).

You can find the hyung line here

Pssst--- here is my masterlist---

Jimin

You loved listening to Jimin, especially when he came home in the evening and told you about his day. You loved chitchatting while preparing dinner, you loved having his head on your lap, his fingers intertwined with yours, your free hand caressing his scalp and handcombing his hair. You loved his tenderness, his voice growing sleepy as it got late. You loved climbing in bed and feeling his hand snake around your waist from behind you, naturally and innocently palming your breast as he fell asleep.

You were listening to his voice through the speakers of your phone, video calling each other as you made dinner and he had a brunch together with the boys in Paris. Last night it had been their last concert of the European Tour and soon they would be heading back to Seoul, even though their schedule included a couple weeks in the US before actually returning to their motherland. He wasn’t yet allowed to tell you their plans but supposedly they had to meet a coreographer and visit a couple studios.

It was extraordinarily hilarious to watch him talk as he filled his mouth with continental breakfast, sickeningly sweet apple juice and pain brioche and bacon endlessly flowing around him. Every now and then he interrupted himself to reply to the boys, who sometimes appeared behind him, sleepy, a bit groggy and absolutely exhausted. Suga was propped on his elbows against the countertop, his eyes closing again as he waited for coffee, Namjoon, with a disgusted expression hugged the sugar bowl to his chest and poured a worrying amount of sweetener in his oversized cup of coffee. JK, his shirt sweaty, was drinking a smoothie after his morning workout. Taehyung was nowhere to be seen, but knowing him, he was probably still sleeping.

“Jin hyung yesterday had a flimsy shirt. I think we have never seen that much skin of him! It was so windy!!!” Jimin said, imitating the shirt lifting, his teasing voice all out while his eyes disappeared in a big smile.

You had held on pretty fairly for the whole tour, always taking twenty minutes to have a chat almost every day. You had visited him mid-tour in New York for a couple days, but otherwise you had endured the distance with a tight-lipped smile.

But right now you felt your heart chipping slightly, tears coming to your eyes. You promptly swiped them away.

Jimin, always so attuned to your emotions, noticed it right away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s the onions!” You smiled and quickly went back to your cooking. But he knew. Seventeen more days until he could see you again. And hold you. And lose himself in you again. He wasn’t bold enough for steamy video calls like Tae. And it’s not like those could provide the kind of emotional support that made him crave for intimacy and reassured him after it. But still, he wanted you to know.

So that night, after making his suitcase, he entered a website he had been tiptoeing around for a while and started exploring, sometimes with shame tinting his cheeks, sometimes with curiosity capturing his stare, sometimes with desire warming his loins. After a thorough analysis of every single category, he checked the basket and proceeded to shipping and payment.

A couple days later you awoke to pictures flooding your twitter feed, your beautiful boyfriend and his six band mates walking out of the LAX airport, Jimin wearing a flowing, quite see-through sky blue shirt embroidered in lilies, his delirious ballerina legs clad in his usual skinny black jeans. Blonde and gracious, lips pouty and pink, sunglasses on, he waved at the crowd and disappeared inside a grey van with a flirty grin. You barely held in a moan. And the long time without any kind of intimacy was most definitely getting to your head. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your panties, almost ready to give up on your intention of waiting for Jimin to come back and get you wild. But right in that moment your doorbell rang and you quickly donned a robe to answer the door. As you saw the delivery boy from the security cam, your first thought was that you had not ordered anything and out of suspicion you properly got dressed. But when he got to your apartment’s door he mentioned the name of the sender and everything made sense, though you hadn’t quite expected a surprise. You thanked him and got inside, package in hand, straight to the kitchen where you grabbed a knife and tore the seal. It was quite heavy and big, and the tag name was not recognisable. With increased curiosity, you opened the lid and saw a small envelope. It had been typed but it seemed to be signed under Jimin’s safe name, Your angel fairy.

“There are things you promised me and things I promised you for when I come back. But there is just one thing we both promised to each other for eternity. And that is Love. Every single object in here is only aimed at that. For a loving heartfelt and gentle as a cherry. For a loving playful and childlike like tickles. For a loving sparkling like twin falling stars. For a loving loyal and enthralling like chains of gold. For a loving sturdy and stinging as wood and leather. For a loving precious like a gem. And finally for a loving eternal as the darkness of the night. To my beloved,

From your angel fairy.”

He had really splurged on this.

You bit your lip in anticipation and tried to guess who was who. Because for those seven types of loving there were seven corresponding items. The first one had to be the massage candles. You once had told him you wanted to try and massage him with those and probably cherries were his fragrance of choice.

The second must have been the tickler, the delicate white feathers perfectly matching Jimin’s personality and taste. Twin falling stars was a bit trickier but at the bottom of the box you found a smaller elegant box containing a delicate chain with two star-shaped, sparkly nipple clamps, which you absolutely adored.

The chains of gold must have been the fine jewellery harness designed to wrap around your neck, snake down between your breasts and loosely hang around your waist in multiple strings.

The wood and leather must have been the double sided paddle, one softened with some padding and leather, the other nothing but unforgiving hardwood. A corner of your mind went back to that time he had brought your large wooden hair-brush on top of your bed and asked you if you wanted to try it on him, you remembered how you had curled a hand around his cheek, comforting and reassuring him, praising him, showing that there was nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. The bright red colour of his behind the morning after, your worried expression and his face hiding in your neck when he told you not to worry because he had enjoyed every second of it.

That loving, precious like a gem, could be nothing but the buttplug, which you had confessed you wanted to try on yourself during your last escapade in New York. You looked forward to that.

And finally the darkness of the night - the blindfold. Black and silken.

“A little bird told me you received a package... How do you like it?” There it was, Jimin’s text. You couldn’t wait for that little brat to come back home.

Taehyung

Brazil was beautiful. A beautiful hot mess. He felt sweat in his every nook and cranny, the humidity sticking to his skin even though it was almost midnight. As he got out of the shower he looked at himself in the mirror. He still felt messy.

He also felt like calling you. Right then and there.

He felt like being at home and walking in your shared room naked and getting head from you. With the windows open and some night breeze flowing in.

“Thinking about you.” He simply texted.

“Just out of a meeting. Can’t wait to head home.” You replied. “But I still have a lot to do.”

“I miss you in my bed.”

“Do you, now?” You were half walking half texting, waiting to get your lunch.

“I need you to get rid of some steam...”

“Tonight, promise.” As your order was ready, you quickly proceeded to eat.

Taehyung didn’t reply. He was tired and you were busy.

He collapsed in bed shortly after putting down his phone.

His sleep was troubled, he woke up tangled in the sheets, his leg thrown over a mountain of pillows and his hips were agonisingly pressing against the humid white cotton. Again, he felt sweaty. And turned on. He felt compressed. Like a clown inside a box that jumps out when you open it. He wondered what it would take for his box to be opened.

When he woke up he saw your “good morning” text, replied quickly before rinsing his face and hitting the gym in the hotel. He overworked himself in hope it could get the thought of you out of his head. Instead, every exercise had him thinking about new ways to fuck you, a stronger, healthier body meaning nothing but much more force and more experimental and effective angles. Jungkook and Jimin obviously noticed, while Namjoon and Jin kept obliviously running on the treadmill.

“You think he’s angry?” Asked Jungkook.

“Just repressed. We should tell the girls to warn his girlfriend. Maybe we should have her come meet him.”

“The trip is long and she’s gonna be jet-lagged out of her mind. Let’s just tell the girls and have the two of them figure it out.”

Jungkook told his girlfriend through text: “Can you tell Tae’s girlfriend to call him? He’s getting sour.”

“Told her. She said she on it. Luv you. Later.” Jungkook blushed thinking about his plans for later that night and then moved on with his exercises.

Taehyung kept bench pressing like he wanted to lift the whole world with his two bare shouders.

At around four pm, his phone far away from him to keep him from doing something stupid, Taehyung was stage rehearsing, his voice rougher and angrier than ever, his whole body craving for release and intimacy. At this point Yoongi too had noticed, giving a small side glance to Jimin, who shook his shoulders in hopelessness.

As he grew more and more insufferable, Namjoon saw it was almost six pm and called for a break, immediately nearing Taehyung and taking him aside for a while.

“What’s wrong.” Namjoon didn’t approach the matter softly.

Taehyung took a pause. Namjoon was almost tempted to call Jimin. Maybe he knew how to deal with this. Maybe he was too rough, too direct or too logical rather than emotional, he could —

“I miss her, hyung.” Taehyung said. Namjoon exhaled heavily. He knew how that felt. “I miss her and we call each other every day, we text, but it’s so bad. I miss everything about her. I thought it was a crush and that it would be easy. After all we’ve been dating for a couple months and...” Namjoon waited, his eyes fixed on Tae. “But I think I’m in love. It’s like, here.” He pressed his fist between his ribs and his stomach. “And I’m so tense, all the time. At night it’s even worse. I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Namjoon waited as if to let him speak, but apparently he was done. “Do you want to call her? Take the rest of the day off and we go on without you?”

“She’s sleeping right now. Fucking time zones. And if I call her, it will get worse.”

Namjoon knew. The wanting, the longing. It just intensifies.

Namjoon checked his phone. “Okay. Rehearsal’s almost over anyways. You just need to survive a couple more songs, then we’re gonna take a night just the seven of us, yeah?”

Taehyung nodded.

“Also, schedule a video call. We’ll be in London in four days and time difference will be easier.” He patted his shoulder. “And please, get laid. Or you can take it out on the stage tomorrow. Army will go feral if they see you like this.”

Taehyung chuckled.

“Do we have anything scheduled tomorrow morning?”

“Concert tomorrow night so no schedule until 11. Jin, JK and I are hitting the gym at nine, if you wanna join.”

“We‘ll see.” Tae smiled. He felt better.

Rehearsal ended up okay after that, Taehyung in a more playful mood. As soon as he got to his phone he saw one of your texts, he was tempted opening it right away, but he waited when he saw it was a lengthy voice note.

He arrived in his hotel room and hit the shower straight away. He was supposed to meet the others in half an hour, and he knew if he laid down and listened to your text he would get distracted and call you. As he got out of the shower he got dressed and sat on the bed, his phone tempting him. Damn it. He opened the text.

“Taehyung-“ A heavy breath. “I’ve been missing you.” Your voice was soft and delicate, almost sleepy. “It’s five am and I can’t sleep.” A raspy moan followed and he had to rewind the text and turn up the volume. Moan confirmed. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Your hands on me, everywhere. The way you kissed me before you left.” This time the moaning was clearer and louder. “Every time I touch myself I feel like my fingers aren’t long or strong enough compared to yours.” Tae felt that comment in his bones. He would be late to dinner anyway. From his phone you emitted a small whimper. “Good, the way you went down on me. I’ve tried toys that could possibly substitute you as long as you’re away but no toy could ever look at me like you did that night, with your mouth latched on my clit and your hand grasping my thighs.” He could almost taste you. God, that night had been indecent to say the least. “I can’t wait to have you back. I’m gonna have you laid out in bed, spread wide on top of the sheets and I’m gonna ride you until I can‘t even remember how much I missed you.”

Now Taehyung moaned himself. He texted you. It was nine am in Seoul, that meant you were at work, that meant you’d be worked up all day long.

“I’m free tomorrow morning. That is tonight, to you. I wanna see that nasty shit you’ve been up to with my wanna-be substitute. Maybe if you’re good enough I’m gonna send you a little something too. But you’ll have to earn it.”

He was already going to send you a golden necklace with a vibrating pendant anyway.

Jungkook

He didn’t let himself think about you much. Just ten minutes in the shower. Sometimes eight were enough, it just depended on how turned on he was. Even though your trip to Australia was making things difficult, you still managed to see each other every day or so. Sometimes you just had dinner with a screen in front of each other, chatting about your day. Sometimes you called after dinner, a glass of wine, some laughter, the boys coming in every now and then to say hi and ask how you were doing. Other times it was strictly the two of you, your soft voice reassuring him as he confessed how he was feeling. This distance had seriously improved your communication, especially since there was no way to use body language to express feelings and emotions. You reminded him daily that you love him, always telling him before you closed the call. He told you daily about what was going on and how he felt about it. He really hoped you would keep being so talkative when you came back. Most importantly, he hoped you would keep praising him. Sometimes he did exactly what you wanted so that you would praise him. He realised that the more he expressed how he felt, the more loving and praising you grew.

Your stay in Australia was supposed to last a little more than five weeks. Three weeks had gone by quickly, always busy with paperwork or work appointments. However, lately you had started missing Jungkook a little bit too severely. You knew he was shy and you would never press him into doing anything he didn’t hint at you. So when one night, after a glass of wine too many, he started talking about how much he missed your body, you replied encouragingly, leading him on.

“What do you miss about it?”

“You know. Waking up beside you. Feeling you next to me early in the morning.”

“I miss that too. Starting the day without you in the shower is difficult,” you teased, pushing it a little.

He blushed a little. “Do you miss that too?”

“I miss all of that. Do you?” You filled your glass once more. Maybe it would help you loosen up a little.

“You know I do.” He mirrored your gesture and took a sip.

“It feels good when you say it,” you answered, undoing a button of your blouse.

“I miss your body a lot. Even though I don’t usually think about it. It gets worse,” he said, eyes were glued to your fingers.

“I’m happy that you told me. It makes me feel like I’m not alone in this.”

“You are not alone. But I wish I was there.” He was going to evaporate.

You took a deep breath.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“Kiss you. Straight away. I’d hold you so tight I’d almost suffocate you.” He didn’t hesitate one second before answering your question. But then he took a long pause. “I would pick you up, wrap your legs around my waist. Lay you down on the bed. Kiss you harder.”

You licked your lips. “Have you been hitting the gym more often lately?”

He was a little bit confused by your question but he nodded.

“It shows. You look stronger. Makes me wonder how good it will be when we do it again.”

His mouth hung open. “I—“

“Use your words, sweetie.”

His situation got even worse as he blushed for the nickname. And then his whole demeanour did a 180. “Forget the bed. I think I’m gonna slam you against the wall. You’d be wearing a skirt and it would be so easy to slip inside you.”

You worded the next sentence carefully. If you pushed it too much, he would emotionally ball up like a hedgehog and shut you out. “Would you have me against the wall?”

“Fuck you standing? Yes, babe.” He pressed his tongue against his cheek, then clenched his jaw. His hand was laying on his thigh, slipping slowly to his crotch. Nothing you were going to notice since his camera was on his face and part of his chest.

“But you know I’m heavy, right?”

“You’re not that heavy. I can pick you up if I want to. And lately you’ve been looking thinner. I hope you’re eating. I love feeling you up,” he purred.

“I’ve been working out too. I have to get you out of my head.”

“What do you need to get out of your head?”

“All the things I want from you.” You needed him to push you a little.

“What do you want?”

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah, and? Come on, babe, use your words.” His smile was borderline sadistic as he used your own words against you.

“Messy, sweaty. I don’t care if it hurts. I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll be feeling it for days afterwards.”

He moaned a little at that. How tight you would feel around him... He realised it was the right moment to tell you. “I got us something.”

“What?”

“It’s supposed to arrive by the time you’re here.”

“Really? What is it?”

He took a deep breath and then he started spitting out words at an alarming rate.

“The other day at the gym there was this couple doing something like couple yoga or something, and she was hanging from a hammock of sort and I couldn’t help but think about how intimate it was and how much I wanted to do that with you and I got us a swing.”

“You what?” You brought the glass to your lips again. Smiling.

“I got us a swing.”

“What kind of swing, baby?”

“That kind of swing. I saw it in a... video, sometime ago, and I remembered it and I wanna use it with you. If you want to, I mean, we don’t have to—” He babbled adorably.

“What if I want to?”

He inhaled and took a sip of wine.

“I can’t wait to use it with you. I keep imagining the sound of you slamming against me. I’ll moan for you so loud and lovely that everyone will know you’re loving me nice and good. You’re amazing, Koo.”

He basked in your compliment. “Come back home soon. Otherwise I’ll have to come and get you. Cuff you to my own wrist and bring you back to my side, where you belong.”

“Can’t wait to put my hands on you. My mouth,” you murmured, one more button coming undone.

“You can’t right now, but if you take off your shirt maybe you might convince me to take the first plane to Sydney.”

His hand had already undone his belt and he was almost going to undo the button of his jeans when you said, “do you think I could convince you if I told you I’m not wearing a bra right now?”

He looked shocked. “You should show me.”

You quickly undid your blouse and let it hang open. That’s when he noticed something glittering.

“Is it...”

“I thought I could use the time away to get it done, so it can properly heal.”

Right there, on your right nipple you let the small piercing show.

“You’re so getting fucked when you come back. First I’ll get my tongue on that and you know exactly where it’s gonna go next.”

You grinned devilishly. “Good, because it’s all I’ve been thinking of.”

#bts headcanons #bts imagine #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin imagine #taehyung imagine #jungkook imagine #bts maknae line #bangtan sonyeondan

152 notes · View notes

octothorpetopus · 4 years

Text

Across The Universe (Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss)

Hotch would have chased Emily to the ends of the earth if he had to. So he did.

A/N: I’ll be honest, this is not in any way canon compliant, and I didn’t really have a specific timeline in mind as to when this is occurring. Thanks to @agenthotchner for the idea.

Hotch wasn’t sure at what point he decided to go. He had been thinking about it for months, to the point where he had planned it out to the last detail. But then there was the matter of Jack, who he owed a trip to his aunt’s house, and that he didn’t actually know where Emily was. Every time he thought about pulling out his phone and calling her, he thought better of it, for months and months and months. And then the one time he did, he found that the number no longer belonged to her.

Then he remembered the one person he knew who could find anyone on earth if she put her mind to it, so he called her.

“Garcia?”

“Sir Hotch? It’s been a minute.” Through the phone, it was like he could hear her smile, and he smiled too.

“It’s nice to hear from you, Penelope. Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything for you. What’s up?” Hotch paused. Could he ask her to do this? Did he want to ask her to do this? And then he pictured Emily’s face, her broad, white smile, framed by pitch-black hair, her eyes that saw everything.

“I need you to find someone.” Garcia sighed.

“Hotch-“

“Please.”

“Hotch, I’ve looked for her, but she’s smart. She doesn’t want to be found.” Hotch nodded. He had expected as much.

“Thanks anyway, Garcia.”

“See you in a week for Christmas?” He chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Hotch?”

“What’s up?”

“I love you just a little bit.”

“I know, Penelope.” He hung up and fell backwards on the sofa in his empty apartment. Oh, well. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. In the meantime, while Jack was gone, he could get through the stuff he had to do at home. And he would start with the massive pile of junk mail that had collected on the kitchen counter.

Halfway through the stack of bills and catalogs, Hotch came across an unassuming cream-colored envelope. It was nicer, heavier paper than most mail, he noticed. And then he flipped it over and saw the scrawled, loopy handwriting he had struggled to decipher on a thousand reports, that had signed a half-dozen birthday and Christmas cards that he had received from twenty different countries. It was Emily, he saw her in her writing, in his own name and address. His hands shook as he opened the envelope and unfolded the heavy white paper.

Aaron, it read,

I haven’t heard from you in a while. Which is admittedly my fault. Anyway, I know you hate to get sappy, but I miss you. I miss everyone, but it seems like every day I see something and I think, “that would make Hotch smile”. I miss your smile, Hotch. I’m just writing to say merry Christmas, I guess, to you and Jack. I won’t be back for the holidays, so I find myself having plenty of time to write this letter (and more) in between glasses of wine alone on my fire escape. Give my love to everyone, and I’ll see you when I do. Hopefully soon, if you know me as well as I think you do. Much love from Stockholm, Emily.

Hotch read the letter, and re-read it, and then re-read it again.

“Am I reading into this?” He asked himself silently. But there was no one on earth he knew better than Emily, and there was no one who knew him better than her. He got up and practically ran to his home office. He pulled out the legal pad he had been so fond of writing notes out on in his attorney days. “If I know you as well as I think that I do.” “Much love from Stockholm.” It was a message if he had ever seen one, and he had seen dozens.

Hotch had his go bag out from under the bed and packed within five minutes. He grabbed his passport from the kitchen drawer, his car keys and wallet, and was out the door in ten. There weren’t many flights to Stockholm, but he found one, and ten hours later he stepped off the plane in Sweden. And that was when he promptly realized he didn’t know how to find Emily and he didn’t speak a word of Swedish. So he called the one person who could help him, once again.

“Garcia,” she answered, yawning. “Hotch, it’s two in the morning.”

“In Stockholm, it’s eight o’clock.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Wait, Hotch, are you in Sweden right now?”

“Yes, and as a matter of fact, so is Emily. Penelope, I need you to find her. Look for a driver’s license, employment records, whatever you can to find her address.”

“Fine. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll call you back.” She called back almost exactly twenty minutes later.

“So, Emily was working as a trauma counselor for a month or so, but her records end about a month and a half ago. I did manage to get a home address, though.” Hotch listened and scrawled down the address on his legal pad.

“Thanks, Garcia. Go back to bed.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll talk to you later. Preferably when the sun’s up.”

Hotch caught a cab to the address Penelope had given him, but when he talked to the landlord, he found-

“Sorry, she left almost two months ago,” the landlord said in strongly accented English. Hotch nodded and turned to leave, but the landlord cleared his throat. “Wait. You wouldn’t happen to be, ah, Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes, that’s me.” The landlord nodded and reached behind the building’s front desk. He pulled out an envelope, the same heavy cream-colored paper with messy blue ink across it.

“She left this for you.” Hotch took the letter and read it in the cab back to the airport.

Aaron,

I’m sorry I missed you. I don’t know if my letter got lost in the mail or if you let it get caught up in that awful stack of mail you always let pile up in your kitchen. Either way, I’ve found that it wasn’t just DC I couldn’t stay in. I can’t seem to stay anywhere for too long. But again, you know me too well, so you know what I’m doing. See you soon, Hotch. Much love from Manila, Emily.

Hotch folded the letter and slipped it into his breast pocket, right alongside the first one. So. The Philippines. Well, Hotch had saved well from early in his life, including his airline miles, and he had always wanted to travel the world. Besides, Jack was at his aunt’s for another week.

And the more Hotch thought about it, the more he realized he would do this forever if he had to. He wouldn’t leave Jack behind, of course, but if he had to keep chasing Emily through letters and airplanes, he would do it. There was a time when he would have denied that, and when he would have denied feeling anything for Emily other than friendship and perhaps a strong sense of family. But he felt that family bond with Penelope, with Dave, with Derek, with JJ, with Spencer. With Emily, there was something more. Something he hadn’t realized until too late. And then that something had taken over him, made him sick with love and the pain of not knowing how to find it. Before Emily, he hadn’t understood the term ‘lovesick’. But there was no other word to describe the feeling he felt now, that grew with every hour on the plane. He was closer now, he felt it. And he would find her.

One seventeen hour flight later, the flight touched down in the Philippines, and once again, Hotch called Penelope.

“Where are you now?” She asked without bothering to greet him.

“Manila. What time is it there?”

“Nine o’clock. A.M. You’re good. Twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good.”

Twenty minutes passed and this time, Hotch had to call Penelope.

“Garcia? What’s taking so long?”

“It seems like Emily didn’t work for whatever amount of time she was there. I’m looking into hotel records now, and... got it!”

An hour later, Hotch found Emily’s hotel, and just like Stockholm, found her gone, with another letter in her place.

Aaron,

We have to stop meeting like this. Or rather, not meeting like this. I’ve only been here for about a week, and I don’t think I’ll stay any longer. It’s fine here, a little too hot for my tastes. If you’re reading this, I’ll see you in the next spot. Much love from Athens, Emily.

“Damn it, Emily, can’t you just date your letters?” He muttered. “Back to the airport, then.” And to Greece it was. Another fifteen hour flight. Hotch’s legs were cramping and he hadn’t had a steady sleep in almost three days now. He didn’t know what time it was in Greece or in DC when he called Garcia, but she picked up anyway.

“Where?”

“Athens. Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes. Love ya.”

As Hotch walked the crowded city streets of Athens, staring up at the Parthenon, he thought about how little he had seen. He never had a chance to travel the world, he realized. That was always more Emily’s speed. He loved this, seeing the world through her eyes. It was like being with her. He could almost hear her cracking jokes and reciting facts, probably in her best imitation of Reid, which wasn’t particularly good.

This time, Hotch found just what he expected. A letter. He had grown to like the letters. Not as much as he would’ve liked to find her, but he liked the way she smudged the ink as she wrote and made the lines a little too long when she crossed her Ts. He wasn’t Reid, he knew next to nothing about handwriting analysis, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know her from her writing.

Aaron,

I stayed three weeks this time. I hoped you would get here sooner. I would have loved to show you the Acropolis and the Parthenon and taken you to all the temples and museums. I highly recommend you take some time to check them out. Of course, depending on how far behind you are, maybe you don’t have time. I hope you find me, still. Please find me, Hotch. Much love from Mumbai, Emily.

“Emily, why do you have to move across the continent?” He asked it as if she could answer. The letters were something, but they weren’t her. He had to find her, the real her, not just these damn letters. And the next step on that trip was India.

“Hotch, so help me god, please tell me you’re getting closer,” Penelope said as soon as she picked up the phone.

“I think so. At least, I hope so. I’m in Mumbai. She’s only two weeks ahead of me now, so she can’t have gone far. Check hotel records.”

“On it.” This time, Hotch didn’t even bother hanging up the phone. He was content to listen to her type and him quietly to herself. “Hey, Hotch?”

“Yeah?”

“You really love Emily, huh?” He hesitated. Because he did, didn’t he? Why else would be crossing the world to find her?

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Good. I love you both and you’re perfect for each other. Find her, and see if you can’t bring her home, eh?”

“I’ll see what I can do. What do you have for me?”

“Well, I have her address where she stayed for the last two weeks.”

“So she’s still here.” Hotch let out a sigh of relief.

“Well, maybe. She checked out this morning.” Hotch got in a cab and told the driver to step on it.

“Damn it!” Hotch restrained the urge to punch a wall. She had left two hours ago, the hotel manager told him, and handed him another letter.

Aaron,

Damn it. I thought I left enough time. I hope you see me. I hope I see you before Christmas. Although I can’t blame you if you decide to give up and go back home. If you do, I’ll see you when I do. I’ll keep this letter short, and I’m not sure how many more I’ll write if you don’t catch up soon. But I hope you know I’m not trying to abandon you, and if you find me, I’ll be the happiest I’ve been in years. Also, tell Penelope thank you. I’m sure there’s no way you’ve found me without her. Much love from, well, where would I disappear to? You know me, Aaron. You know me too well.

At that moment, Hotch knew exactly where she was. Just one more twelve-hour flight away.

Hotch had always liked Paris. Emily has always liked Paris, actually, and Hotch liked Emily. The truth was that Hotch didn’t much care about where he was.

“Penelope-“

“Paris?”

“Yes, how did you-?”

“Please. I’m not a profiler, but I know Emily. Anyway, she hasn’t been here long enough for me to know where she is-“

“That’s fine. I know. I just called to tell you she says thank you. And so do I.”

“You’re my best friends. I’d do anything for you. Go get the girl, Hotch.”

“Thanks, Pen.” Hotch knew exactly where she was. She didn’t often talk about Paris, but when she did, she talked about the view she loved, when she could see the Eiffel Tower and the Seine from the same window. He bought a map from a newsstand and sat down to mark it off. A drizzling rain had begun to fall, but he hardly noticed. He didn’t have Reid’s geographical profiling skills, but he could mark off the area that could see both the river and the tower. Then all he had to do was find the apartment buildings in that area. As a matter of fact, there were only three. Only one had Emily, or rather one of her aliases, in their records.

It was late and pouring rain by the time Hotch arrived. He scanned the buzzer in the dim, foggy light of the street lamps. She would use her own name this time. She had no reason to hide. So he found the button next to the name Prentiss and relief washed over him as he pushed it. And it was at that moment that he realized he had no idea what to say. But he didn’t have time to think about it because the intercom buzzed.

“Qu'est-ce?” It was French, but it was her. Hotch had to hold in a half-gasp-half-sob. “Qu'est-ce?” She repeated.

“It’s Hotch.” There was a pause, and then-

“Hotch? Oh my god, Hotch?”

“It’s me, Em,” he replied, and he found that he was crying just a little bit. His tears mixed with the rain that had now drenched his face, and for that matter the rest of him.

“Hold on.” Something buzzed and the door unlocked. Hotch heaved his bag over his shoulder and sprinted up the stairs, disregarding the elevator entirely. He ran up ten flights of stairs and down to the end of the hall, panting and trailing water behind him. He pounded on her door, knowing he was being too loud and frankly not caring. As he began to knock again, the door swung open and his fist hit empty air, and behind that empty air there was Emily, staring up at him in slack-jawed silence. And Hotch still didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just kissed her. His hands were on her face, her hands were on his back, and he was steadily dripping rainwater onto the hardwood floors.

“You round me,” she said at last as she broke the kiss.

“I’m one of the best FBI profilers in history. Did you think I wouldn’t?” He asked, still cupping her face in his hands.

“Not for a second. Although I got a little worried there in Athens for a minute.”

“Please. Also, I had Garcia track your employment and hotel records.”

“Hmm. Very smart.” She stepped aside to allow him in. Her apartment was filled with boxes. She had arrived mere hours before him.

“I was so close to getting you in India.”

“I know. But I’m glad it was here.” She took his hand and tugged him through the near-empty apartment.

“Emily? Where are we going?”

“Fire escape.” She crawled through the open window and helped him through. The rain soaked her down in less than a minute, but she didn’t seem to mind. From the fire escape, the Eiffel Tower was lit up in a golden spire, and the reflection danced across the Seine. He could see why she liked it so much.

“Hotch-“

“Emily-“ They both laughed, and it came unbearably easily, as if they had never been apart.

“You go first.”

“I need to tell you something. I need to tell you why I came across the world to find you.” He turned around so that his back was facing her. He didn’t think he could do this if he had to look into her eyes. “Emily Prentiss, I love you. And I didn’t realize it until you were gone. Which, I’ll admit, was stupid of me. It was stupid of me to ever let you go.

“Yeah, it really was.”

“Hey, can you-? Thanks. Anyway, like I was saying before I was so very rudely interrupted, I found you, and I’ll find you ten more times if I have to because this is a few times in a lifetime type of love. And not being with you makes me feel sick. And I came across the world to fine you.”

“You said that.”

“Well, I’m running out of things to say, so can you just kiss me and shut me up please?” Emily put a hand on his shoulder and leaned over his shoulder. He had to crane his neck, but she kissed him.

“I love you, Aaron Hotchner,” she said between kisses.

“Oh, thank god.” He looked down at her positively drenched clothes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“So are you. Give me your bag, I’ll toss the stuff in the dryer, and you can hop in the shower.” Hotch stammered incoherently. “Please. I’m not proposing anything indecent. But you’ve been chasing me for almost four days. You need a shower.” Hotch shook his head, spraying water everywhere.

“In a minute. First, promise me you’ll have all your stuff unpacked by Christmas. You deserve Christmas.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Second... promise me you’ll let me stay for Christmas. So you’re not alone.” Emily’s bro’s furrowed.

“What about Jack and the others?”

“Hayley’s family would love to have Jack for Christmas, and he’ll survive without me for a few days.” Emily bit her lip.

“Or... what if I came home with you? What if I came back to DC and spent Christmas with you and Jack and the guys?” Hotch felt his eyes start to water again.

“You would do that? I thought you wanted to escape DC.”

“I do. Kind of. I wanted to escape because I thought there wasn’t anything for me there. But that was dumb. I have you. I have our friends. So I don’t know that I’ll be back right away, but I’ll come back for Christmas.”

Hotch threw his arms around Emily in an uncharacteristic burst of excitement. Then again, he couldn’t help it.

“Hey, Hotch?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I never thought I’d have anyone who would cross the world to find me.”

“As long as you keep running, I’ll keep chasing.”

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