#I have these big ass earrings that say god loves me over a rainbow

[illuminatireject]

Did some stop motion! :) I fucking hate this bracelet but I think the video is kind of cute <3

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[kingdaddydaichi]

can i request consensual hate sex between bakugou and f!reader

Oooooh yassssss! This idea got better and better the more I thought about it, Nonny. Love it! I hope you enjoy this naughty little slice of grudge fuck pie. 💖

Riding The Fine Line 💥 Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT or I'll have my Big Scary BoomBoom Man blow your little ass up!

Word Count: 2k

"Oi! Who picked this shitty restaurant anyway?", Bakugou sneered as he walked towards the table.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, "Oh look, Gorilla Man is here".

"Watch it, shitty girl. M'not in the mood for your shit tonight".

You'd made plans earlier in the week to meet Kiri and Mina for dinner. You knew Bakugou had been invited too, but after having suffered through it so many times over the past year or so of having some friends in common, you somehow managed to tolerate his presence. It helped that the drink you'd been sipping on made him somewhat less intolerable than usual.

It was like nails down a chalkboard every time Bakugou reared his big dumb head. His only redeeming quality was that he was quite easy on the eyes. Shame that such a hot guy is also such a huge asshole.

He's always given everyone a hard time, but unlike most people, you just wave a dismissive hand at him. And it makes him crazy. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get under your skin like he so easily does others. Oh, he annoys the piss out of you to be sure, but he doesn't hurt your feelings per se.

"Y'know, for such a massive ego yours sure is delicate, you meat head".

"Oh yeah? Well, for such a massive ass yours s-"

"God, Bakugou, do you ever just shut up?", you snipped.

Kiri and Mina both jumped in, laughing nervously and smoothing things over to lower the tension. He growled at you. You flipped him a subtle bird before looking away and trying to ignore him.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Kiri's birthday was approaching and several of his friends decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. You, Denki, Mina, and ugh, as luck would have it, Bakugou, were are all put in charge of decorating his house while some other friends took him out for dinner. Midway through, Mina whined while sorting through various sacks, "Oh no! We forgot the disposable rainbow shot glasses!" Mina had a way of putting a cute touch on everything she had her hands in. Denki offered to go with Mina to procure the missing miniature party cups, leaving you and Bakugou alone to hang streamers in Kiri's living room. Probably not the wisest of decisions, but consider the source. 👀

It didn't take long after they were gone for Bakugou to start in on you with his bullshit. Only this time no one was around to referee. You groaned. This was going to be a free for all. You'd already both cut eyes at each other a couple of times.

"You're not doing it right, dumbass!"

"That's a matter of opinion and you can shove yours up your ass, dumbass".

He flipped you off saying, "You can shove this up your ass!", then turned back to his task.

You were so done. Without thinking, you reared back and hurled the roll of streamers as hard as you could, nailing him right in the back of the head. Damn, it felt good.

He whipped around, a vein popping out of his forehead, clenching his teeth. You were quite proud of your aim until he made little explosions in his free hand and said, "You're really pushing your luck with me, woman! If we weren't in Kiri's house right now I'd blast you right through that fucking wall!"

"Pfft, whatever! You wouldn't do shit. You're all bark and no bite, you fucking douche canoe!"

"You ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a bitch guys might actually want to talk to you?"

That did it. He'd finally found one of your hot buttons and you couldn't take his shit anymore. You marched right up to him and got right up in his face, height difference be damned.

"You know what, fuck you, Bakugou! I'm not normally like this! You're the only person who…drives me to this madness!", you spat with tears in your eyes.

A second later, his hands were on either side of your face, crashing his lips down onto yours. You were so shocked you froze before pulling away from him, staring at him in astonishment. He just stood there, huffing, glaring back at you, waiting.

You stepped forward and pushed him, his back hitting the wall, hard. But before he could protest, your lips were on his again. He grabbed you by your arms and spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You slipped your tongue past your open mouth, his meeting yours halfway as he pushed his knee between your legs. He pressed his thigh against your sex, shoving his growing cock against your thigh in the process.

Taking the bottom of his shirt into two fistfuls, you eagerly pushed it up to his chest, exposing his washboard abs and god-like pecs. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the floor while your shaky hands got busy with his belt and zipper, urgently, like you couldn't get to him soon enough. But his will took over when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head so he could peel your shirt off. He dipped down to take a mouthful of your tit, cupping what he couldn't fit in his rough hand, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sucking, then releasing you from the inside of his mouth to flick the tip of his tongue over your pink nub. You grabbed two handfuls of his ash blond locks and arched your back off the wall as he gave your other breast the same treatment.

You impatiently tugged on his hair, hungry for the taste of his sweet lips again. Your tongues once again fought for dominance and you gasped when he picked you up in one swift movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to Kiri's bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him before slamming your back against it.

"Put me down", you said forcefully.

He stopped sucking on your neck long enough to rasp, "And why the fuck should I?"

"Because I want to get into your fucking pants, asshole".

For once you two agreed on something and with your feet back on the floor, you got back to work on his pants before reaching in and wrapping your hand around his hot dick. Shit, you could barely get your fingers all the way around it, it was so thick. You stroked him a couple of times before pulling him out, exposing his manhood in all of its mouth-watering glory.

He ran his hand down his sculpted stomach, spreading his fingers to either side of his girth. "Like what you see?" You realized you were staring at his dick and the pre that dripped from it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?", you sassed.

He growled and spun you around, pushing your front against the wall and swiftly closing in behind you. Wisps of your (color) hair fluttered around his hot breath as he breathed down your neck. "You keep on tryin' to hide it, but you want me just as much as I want you, princess, and I'm gonna make an honest girl outta ya".

His battle-hardened hands found their way down your back, around your waist and all the way to your belly before he slid them down, his fingers reaching below your waistband. You willed him to push his hands further down, pressing your backside against his erection. He used one deft hand to unbutton your pants and work your zipper down, granting himself better access. When he mercifully slipped his middle finger between your folds, you couldn't choke back the moan that emerged from the back of your throat.

"Damn", he growled behind your ear, "for someone who can't stand me, your pussy sure is wet for me".

"Shut up", you gritted through your teeth.

The feeling of the rough pad of his finger teasing your swollen clit nearly sent you over the edge. But it was short-lived and you whined when he pulled his hand away to shove your pants down around your ankles, accompanied by your damp panties. Your hands slid down the wall as he yanked your ass back towards him. You hung your head and watched the head of his cock as Bakugou fucked your thighs, back and forth over your slit, coating his fat cock with your slick, readying himself.

When he began pushing into you, your legs shook from the sheer pressure as he slowly filled you up. When he bottomed out, he held himself still, at least considerate enough to give you time to adjust to his size. He waited until you started grinding against him before grabbing your hips, and slowly withdrawing.

"Now let's see if I can fuck all that hate for me out of you". Before you could retort, he slammed his cock back into you, your pitiful cry mixed with his loud groan echoing off the walls of Kiri's bedroom. He set his pace, steady and hard, the cold buckle of his open belt pressing into your skin with every crash of his hips.

"Yeah, who knows? Maybe if you'd get your dick wet every once in a while you wouldn't act like one", you quipped, voice faltering as he pounded into you.

He slowed his pace to bend over you, pushing your hair out of the way before biting down on the nape of your neck.

"Oww!! What the fuck?!"

He stood up straight again, laughing and said, "All bark and no bite, hah? You just hadn't pushed me far enough yet!" The sweet and salty mixture of his sweat and your need could be heard with every loud slap of his skin against yours.

"Fuck! Bakugou-", you whined in spite of yourself.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a firm tug. "When're ya gonna stop callin' me by m'last name and call me Katsuki instead?"

"When you stop acting like a raging asshole towards me", you managed as he fucked the breath out of you.

"Brave words for someone in such a compromising position. Now - say - my - fucking - name!". Each word came with its very own plunge of his cock into your mess of a cunt.

Your legs started to give out. "Katsuki!" You hadn't meant to obey him, but he'd kept his word and made you honest.

"That's better". You could hear the smirk in his voice after hearing his first name fall from your quivering lips.

You turned to face him when he pulled out, kissing him hard, his fingers going into your hair. You inched backwards onto the bed, Katsuki crawling in towards you with a primal look in his crimson eyes before nestling his thighs between yours and sheathing himself deep inside you again. Your head rolled back as you arched your back off the bed. Gods, the feeling of him filling you up was quickly becoming your new favorite sensation.

He nuzzled his face against your neck as he rutted into you, pulling your thigh up to his hip bone, raking his teeth against your skin. His breathing had become more labored and he started thrusting faster, your pleasure mounting with the increased friction of his pubic bone against your clit until rays of bliss shot out from every pore of your skin at the speed of light.

"K-ka-tsuki, I'm c-cumming hahh oh goddd!" The pulsating grip that you had on him finally sent him to his end as well, growling your name and cursing between clenched teeth, burying himself deep inside you as he unloaded rope after thick rope of his white hot cum into your snug, soft warmth.

"Seems Shitty Hair’s gonna get more than one surprise tonight", Katsuki said, catching his breath.

You laughed so hard that Katsuki hissed at the feeling of your walls squeezing his sensitive cock so soon after his orgasm.

"You still hate me?", he asked, brushing his lips against yours, supporting his weight with his elbows.

"Hmm...that depends", you said thoughtfully, tracing the cut of his back muscles with your fingertips.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you'd still fuck me if I don't hate you".

He smirked. "I'd still hit it even if you love me", he whispered, showing his softer side as he kissed you, smiling.

[yuzukult]

acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan​ , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

_________________________________________

Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[spiltscribbles]

Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

.-

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

.-

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius  can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it. 

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year.  Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon  and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one  who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too. 

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

 Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people  had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods  when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself.  “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

.-

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw. 

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally  touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

.-

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

.-

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair. 

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon. 

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.”  His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion. 

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?” 

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter. 

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of  him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

 “You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and  gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 4

Previous chapter links:

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER FOUR

The cab ride towards the White Wolf was much faster and louder than you anticipated. The cab driver's blaring music from the radio was so loud it felt like you were inside a rave. You and Bucky had to yell over the music for you to talk about what has been happening in your lives for the past few months. You couldn't summarize everything in a five-minute cab ride. So far, these were just some milestones you both gathered (well, more of his): while Bucky was in different parts of the world (Greece, Macau, Amsterdam, Monaco, Aruba) managing interrelation business and hosting nightly parties and whatnots, you were just in New York tending to drunkards (and that includes Peter sometimes) and taking photos of whatever products that come your way.

At that moment, you saw your life pass by in black and white, while Bucky's in color -- just a parade of rainbows trailing behind him wherever he goes.

Yet he still found the things you did interesting.

You wondered what the word interesting meant to him. Of course, you didn't bother asking him that. Perhaps he just felt sorry and wanted to make you feel good.

The moment you got out of the cab, you guys took a deep breath, thankful that that awful ride was over. The music floated away as the cab sped up in the streets.

"What a dick." Bucky commented, watching the cab race through the streets. Any more speed, the cab would've flown in the air.

"I know." You snorted. "God, that was an awful ride. I felt like I was at a frat party."

"Funny. You don't look like someone who would go to one." He joked.

"I went once." You defended. "With Parker."

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you and stared.  Blue eyes piercing right through you in disbelief. "Okay." You sighed. "I picked his drunk ass up at that party. But I really have been to a party with Parker." You left out that detail of you and Peter making out at that party. That was just between you and Peter and you wouldn't want to include his stepbrother in it. Or perhaps Bucky knew about it. You did just found out they talk to each other almost every night. But as you told Bucky about that party, you received no reaction whatsoever which meant he knew nothing. You felt good about that.

You and Bucky stood in front of the White Wolf, trying to shake out the ringing in your ears. Stupid cab ride. Why you couldn't just walk here was because of Bucky. Apparently, he was still a bit hungover. You wondered what would take him to get fully sober.

You stared at the wolf headstone once more, admiring it for the second time today.

"I commissioned an artist for that." Bucky spoke, poking his finger on his right ear. "Just found him on the subway one day. He was selling some sculptures he's made. Asked him if he could make me one and ta-da!"

"It is beautiful."

"I have others he has made inside." With this, Bucky started to walk towards the inside of his hotel.

The uniformed man greeted you on the steps. You sent him a knowing smile once his eyes landed on yours. He smiled back as you introduced yourselves to each other.

"Is she still in my room?" Bucky asked the uniformed man who you now know goes by the name Leonard.

"Yes, sir." He replied. "She said she'd -- "

"I know what she said." Bucky groaned, remembering what you'd told him earlier. "I'll call you from up there if anything goes wrong, okay Leonard?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be on alert."

You watched the exchange in utter fascination. It was like watching something straight out of an action movie: "I'll be on high alert" "I'll tell you when the coast is clear" "Roger that" "I'll call you when something goes wrong"

The only thing was, this wasn't some action movie though Bucky did have a plan. You just never knew about it until you got in the elevators.

"Here's the plan." He started. "We go in holding hands, I'll introduce you as my girlfriend. Maybe fiancé! When she sees you, tell her you're my fiancé and when she tells you that she slept with me, I'm going to deny and you're going to believe me because as my fiancé, you deeply love me and believe everything I say."

"Ew, it's like I'm a sub."

"Wow, you're a dom?"

"I can be." You winked at him.

"Huh, I honestly thought you're a virgin. You know, that type of 'never been kissed, never been loved' type."

In your head, you started singing the rest of the song. "I'm an angel in the streets and devil in the sheets, Bucky." You joked which he took seriously seeing it on the look on his face. "Anyway, your plan?"

"Right! She'd yell and go nuts until she gives up and then leaves the hotel -- "

"Then we get married and let Peter pay for our honeymoon!" You finished for him with a sarcastic smile on your face.

He smirked. "I like the way you think, Aria. But I don't think Peter's gonna want that."

"What do you mean?"

"W-well, he's not gonna afford it is what I meant."

"You're probably right." You gave him a low chuckle. "You're rich. Pay for our honeymoon." You joked.

"As soon as we get this bitch out of here, yes I will, doll." He scrunched his nose up and winked at you right before the elevator doors opened. Swiftly, Bucky grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. "Let's do this."

Hand in hand, you stepped out of the elevator. What stood in front of you was the same woman from earlier this morning. Body still clinging to Bucky's shirt. Faint red lipstick still smeared on some parts outside her lips. Blonde hair still disheveled. If you didn't know any better she was just here in the penthouse, waiting, not moving even a single inch.

You put your hand on Bucky's arm, hiding a faint expression of how big it felt against your skin. "Honey, who is this?"

"I-I don't know!"

The unnamed woman managed to step forward, looking Bucky in the eyes. "What do you mean you don't know? We slept last night!" Then, she looked at you. "Who the hell are you?"

"His fiancé." There was a sly smug tone in your voice. Even on your face.

"Fiancé? He didn't tell me anything about a fucking fiancé!"

"What the hell are you saying?" Bucky yelled. His grip tightened on your hand. "I've never even met you! How did you get in here?"

"We spent the night together, what the hell, Bucky!" She bellowed like a monster, then her voice softened. "I-I told you I love you."

"You're crazy."

"Call security." You said. "Now, Bucky!"

While Bucky grabbed for his phone, the woman pleaded, still trying to convince you that she slept with your fake fiancé. "If he says he doesn't know you," you responded, "then I believe him." Bucky slipped away from you, probably calling Leonard from downstairs. He gave you a knowing look, as if ushering you to unleash some kind of hell on his one-night stand. "You need to go, lady, if you don't want to be banned in every hotel here in New York. Yes, my fiancé can do that. So better get your ass out of here or -- "

"Okay, okay!" She held up her hands, giving up. "I'm out of here! Jesus fucking Christ -- " She mumbled more under her breath as she took of Bucky's clothes, revealing a white tank top underneath. She picked up her heels that were scattered on the living room: one shoe on the couch, the other near a foot of a small table. Picked up some pair of jeans on the carpet before stepping inside the elevator.

"I wish you luck in your fucking marriage." She said, tone filled with rage. Then, she proceeded to flip Bucky one last time before she disappeared behind the elevator doors, eyes boring into Bucky's.

"Okay, she's going down. Tell her to never come here again. Thanks, Lenny." Bucky dropped the phone call and gave you a smile. "And thank you for your performance."

You bowed, like how actors bow after a play ends, and flashed him a smile. "Why, thank you."

"Thanks to you I'm never gonna see that woman again in my life."

You turned your back on him, seeing the place for the first time without a tainted image of the woman. A line of little sculptures near every wall (perhaps the ones he commissioned from that subway artist). Family photos, albums and trophies took up a whole cabinet. You shifted your gaze towards the living room where a nice brown couch sits on top of a beige rug, which faced a huge flat screen television. Two pairs of love seats sat across from each other. A glass table set in the middle. On the back wall was a photograph of Bucky which took the whole space. He wore a neat, well-pressed grey suit, sitting on what seemed like a throne inside a home office, one leg stretched outwards and one leg just resting normally on the floor. He had this head tilt on one side, right hand under his chin, blue eyes looking directly at the camera. On its floor were stacks of magazines, and papers.

Even you couldn't deny how good Bucky looked in the photo but the photograph itself? You knew you could do better than that.

You turned around and found Bucky nowhere. "Bucky?"

He then emerged from what seemed like a kitchen because he was carrying loads of food and trod towards where you were and placed everything on the coffee table. "Yeah?"

"If I wasn't here, what would've you done?"

He shrugged, and opened a yogurt. "Probably stay in your apartment forever."

"Wow," you sat on the couch, watching him devour the food on the table, "seems like you've planned everything out."

"Seems like it, yeah."

"Do you always do this, Bucky?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have sex with girls, then make up a lie to get them out of your life."

"Oh, that was the first time." He replied. "Those three words really freaked me out. I've never heard that come from someone besides my family. Never even told anyone I've loved them, again, except my family."

You nodded in response and looked around the penthouse some more, admiring some paintings, big and small, on the walls. Perhaps some were real, perhaps some were just school ofs. On your right, was a draped curtain covering a whole glass wall that overlooked New York city. Bucky clicked some button somewhere which let the curtains open, letting some of the New York sun inside. From here, one could see the whole view of New York. All its pleasure, glory, grime, and lowliness.

Oh, the things you would give to live in a place like this. If you wanted to take in the beauty of New York, you had to climb up on the fire exit towards the rooftop. And the view from up there wasn't as pretty as this one. All the pretty spots were behind million dollar skyscrapers.

You looked at Bucky once more who leaned against the love seat, then closed his eyes. That same fuzzy image, which you thought you had buried at the back of my mind, resurfaced.

"Bucky?"

He shot straight up. "Yeah?"

"Have we... met each other before?"

A frown formed on his face, his blue eyes meeting yours, his gaze intense; as if he was trying to put a finger on something, on you. But then he gave up, telling you perhaps you'd just seen him somewhere here in New York the last time he was here, bumped into him. Something like that.

You agreed. Maybe that was it.

Again, you pushed that image at the back of your mind, hoping it would never come up while Bucky was still here.

You were about to ask Bucky how long he was planning to stay in New York before partying in every country outside America when your phone rang.

It was Steve. You picked it up immediately. "Hey, Steve. Is everything okay?"

Bucky shot his head towards you, perhaps wondering who this Steve was.

"Hey." He replied. His voice was groggy, like he just woke up. "There's been some misunderstanding with the shipments. They thought I said drop them in the morning. Long story short, the shipments are just outside the pub's door."

"What? They can't do that!"

"They have a lot of deliveries today so they had to. I told them to wait for you but those are impatient bastards. New shipment boys."

You cursed then stood up. "I'm actually not in the apartment right now. I'm somewhere else. Not important. I'm on my way."

"Get there fast, Aria."

"I will, don't worry. Bye, Steve."

Once you got off the phone, you told Bucky the whole situation.

"Let's go then!" He said with much enthusiasm. "Those drinks are no good sitting out there. How else am I going to make you the best drink you'll ever have, darling?"

[fruitcoops]

SIRIUS/REMUS PLAYING WITH PUPPIES WHILE ANSWERING FANS QUESTIONS

Please know that if we ever met in person, I would literally lift you off your feet and hug you for suggesting this. My afternoon was filled with adorable puppy videos because of this!

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Can I have them?” Remus asked softly, staring at the person behind the camera with big, pleading eyes. “Please?”

“Do the introduction and then we’ll set ‘em loose,” Marlene said.

“Fine. Hey, everyone, welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here today to play with puppies.”

“And answer questions.”

“And answer questions,” he added. “Maybe, like, one or two in between snuggles.”

“You’re going to answer all of them,” Marlene said more firmly.

He rolled his eyes and took the lid off the jar of paper slips. “Can I have the puppies now?”

A door clicked open behind the camera and Remus lit up as four puppies tumbled into frame, racing straight for him. “Hello, babies!” he laughed as a tiny golden retriever jumped on his chest. “Oh, I love you so much. Come here, come here, let me give you kisses.”

“Question number one?” Marlene prompted as he began playing with them and rolling their toys around.

Remus sighed and pulled a question out. “What would I be doing if I didn’t become a hockey player? Physical therapy for su—ope, okay, you can have that one.”

The Irish Setter puppy growled playfully as they played a short game of tug-of-war until the paper tore.

“Oh no, it broke!” Remus exclaimed, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears while it chewed on the leftover scraps. “Yes, that’s all yours now. Next one: what is the best part about playing professional hockey? I get to do interviews like this.” One of the puppies, a medium-sized black one, began chewing on one of the laces of his Converse. “Excuse me—excuse me, young man, that’s my shoelace. Are you chewing it because it’s rainbow? Is this homophobia?”

“Remus.”

“Sorry.” He lifted the puppy into his arms and kissed his head. “Okay, munchkin, what’s next? What’s next? You’re so fucking cute, I just wanna squish you. Um, what’s the most common thing fans say when they meet me?” He laughed and the puppy licked his cheek. “Usually they look at me and go, ‘god, you’re tall’, which surprises people because I’m always around these gigantic guys. Do these dogs have names?”

“If I tell you their names, you’re going to get attached.”

“We have crossed, salted, and burned that bridge, Marley.”

“The one you’re holding is Mercutio, the red one is Juliet, the retriever is Pip, and the fluffy one on your lap is Lucie, after Lucie Manette.”

Remus’ jaw went slack. “They’re named after book characters?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh, no.” He reached out and pulled Juliet and Pip into his arms for a moment. “Oh, no, you all have to come home with me now. The next question is…would I ever do drag? Probably not, but I looked hot as fuck in eyeliner, so do with that what you will.”

“Which video was that?”

“It was the fear pong one, which I played with my fiancé and my friends James and Lily!” His voice pitched up as he turned to talk to Mercutio. “I did, buddy! It was so fun! Yes, it was!”

“Remus. Questions.”

“Right. What’s one of my weirdest or funniest fan encounters? There was this one lady, she was like forty-something, and she came up to me while I was at the post office and asks ‘are you Remus Lupin?’ and I said, ‘yes, that’s me’ and she’s like ‘from the Gryffindor Lions?’ and I said yes again and then she went—” He narrowed his eyes and nodded his head slowly. “—‘I knew you were gay. Good for you, kiddo’ and then left. It was the weirdest fucking thing, especially considering I had played, like, one game with the team by that point.”

“Are you serious?” Marlene asked.

“Totally honest. I never saw her again, either.” Juliet put her paws on the front of his Lions hoodie and began licking the edge of his jaw. “Hey, sweet girl, thank you for the kisses. Can I grab another question? No? Okay, we can stay here.”

Pip began yipping and Mercutio wiggled out of Remus’ hold, launching himself at the other dog with a tiny growl.

“Mercutio, no!” Remus gasped, scooting Juliet aside so he could put the two puppies under his arms. His hands were big enough to almost cover their whole bellies. “We’re not here to start fights, you two. Apologize.” They turned their heads to lick his cheeks. “I didn’t mean apologize to me, but okay. You’re so soft and warm, what the hell?”

“Next question?”

“What’s the craziest rumor I’ve heard about myself? A solid group of people thought I asked to be on the team, which isn’t true. I didn’t even know people were considering it until James and Lily’s wedding. Coach wanted it to be a surprise while he cleared it with the organization.” Remus shook his head and slowly petted Lucie as she napped on his thigh. “Is there a celebrity I’ve met that left me starstruck? Ha! Yes. There was a fundraiser a few months ago and Sam Neill was there, which I didn’t know until I turned around and he was about two feet away.”

“What did you do?”

Remus laughed and turned faintly pink. “Um, I made a sort of squeaking noise and he kinda chuckled, which was mortifying in and of itself. He goes, ‘hi, I’m Sam’ and I nodded because duh, he’s Sam fucking Neill, and then I mumbled something about Jurassic Park and he smiled and said, ‘son, you’re blocking the water’ and I just about died on the spot.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Sirius was standing next to me the entire time and silently laughing his ass off. I saw them talking later, and when were about to drive home he hands me this napkin and it has Sam Neill’s autograph on it.”

“He didn’t,” Marlene gasped.

Remus nodded. “He did.”

“That’s the smoothest move I’ve ever heard of.”

“It was incredible.” Juliet waddled closer and nudged a red ball out from under Remus’ knee, which he picked up and tossed before taking out another question. “Do I appreciate when fans come up to me in public or is it annoying? Oh, it’s never annoying. It’s a little weird if I’m eating lunch somewhere or running errands and someone tries to sneak a picture, though. I love all the fans and it’s super fun talking to everyone, so please just come over and say hello instead of failing to be sneaky while I’ve got pizza grease on my face.”

“Even if you’re on a date?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, well, use some common sense. Pip—babycakes, stop trying to eat the questions. There we go.” He settled the puppy into his lap and rolled the ball for Juliet again. “In a movie about my life, who would I want to play me and Sirius?” He paused and looked at the camera. “I would want us to play ourselves, but only because neither of us can act and it would be so fucking funny to make the absolute worst movie.”

“Come on,” Marlene groaned.

“I’m being a hundred percent honest right now! I think it would be hilarious. We’d be terrible.” Juliet pawed at his arm insistently until he grabbed the ball, but she wouldn’t let it go and they ended up playing tug-of-war despite the fact that she had no traction on the floor and kept sliding around. “Aren’t you a feisty one, sweet girl! What is the most memorable moment of my life that I want to cherish forever? This. Right here, right now.”

“Really?”

“I have two dogs on my lap, one under my arm, and the other slobbering all over my hand. This is the best possible place to be. Wait, hang on a second.” Remus carefully lifted Lucie up and laid down, settling her on his abdomen as the other three clambered over to flop on him. “Oh, yeah, this is the peak of my entire life.”

“You’re not going to say your engagement? Maybe the day you started playing for the Lions?”

“Nope. The engagement was incredible and one of my favorite memories for sure, but I was shaking in my skates.”

“Just read the next question.”

“Okay! What’s my go-to karaoke song?” He hummed for a moment, then laughed as Lucie scooted up to rest her head under his chin. “I think it’s probably ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ by Whitney Houston. Lily and I did a duet of that a year or so ago, and it rocked.”

Pip began gnawing on the cuff of his sweatshirt. “Pip,” Marlene scolded; her foot appeared in frame until Remus waved her off with a smile.

“It’s okay, he can chew if he wants to. It’s an old sweater anyway, and it’s not even mine!” He scratched behind Pip’s ears. “No, it’s not, peach-a-keen! You can go nuts with that as long as you’re cozy. What is…my favorite behind-the-scenes Lions moment? Our groupchat, no contest.”

“Does it have the whole team?”

“Most of us, yeah. You have to earn your spot.” Remus looked over at the camera and Lucie put her head on his neck. “Looks like I’ve been banned from turning my head now, huh?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Marley, there are very few things that would make me happier than I am right now. I’m being slowly crushed by puppies and I get to cuddle them for free.” He reached blindly into the question jar. “This is a two-part question. Do I prefer big dogs or small dogs, and how is Hattie doing? I love all dogs, but I think I prefer big ones because they’re always so much fun, and I don’t feel like I’m accidentally going to break them if I move wrong. Hattie’s doing well! She’s almost eighty pounds and she’s at home with Sirius right now, probably getting snuggled within an inch of her fuzzy little life.”

“That’s the dream right there.”

“Tell me about it. Alright, sorry ladies and gents, but I have to sit up to get to the questions.” All four puppies made noises of protest when he started sitting up and he sighed, eyebrows pitching upward. “I know, I know, it’s really hard. Here, how about we…” Remus carefully gathered them until he held all four against his chest; their tiny faces looked out over his forearms and he placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Much better.”

“Can you get to the jar?”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to reach in. “Do you want to read it?” he asked Mercutio as the puppy tried to bite the slip. “No? Okay. What is my favorite thing about playing on the same team as my fiancé? That is an excellent question. My favorite thing is that we finally have the same schedule, so we can build in time to hang out more easily. It was hard to do that when we were doing different things.”

Pip yawned and the entire camera crew ‘awww’ed; Remus made a soft noise and nuzzled his floppy ear.

“I adore you,” he murmured. “I really do. Last question: What is my advice to those who want to follow their dreams? Oh, jeez.”

“You can take a minute to think.”

Remus crossed his legs and lifted his knees up so he could hug all the puppies at once while still looking at the camera. “The only reason I got big and strong is so that I can hold four puppies at once. Just thought people should know that. Uh, my advice to those who want to follow their dreams is to persevere. I never in a million years thought that I would get to play on a professional hockey team, but I worked really hard to overcome my injury and stay connected to the sport because I love it. If there’s something you love, don’t be afraid to hold on to it.”

“Wise words,” Marlene remarked. “Do you want to tell the fans where they can find the puppies?”

“At my house,” Remus joked. “But if that doesn’t work, they are up for adoption at Friendly Paws Animal Shelter, which is just south of downtown Gryffindor and has tons of adorable friends like these guys. Can I call Sirius real quick?”

“Sure,” Marlene laughed.

Remus gingerly lowered Lucie into his lap and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a quick number before putting it on speakerphone and setting it down to pick her up again. “Re?” Sirius sounded confused. “Aren’t you still with Marlene?”

“Yeah.”

“…did something happen?”

“Nope, all good. Can we get another dog?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Marlene, what did you do?”

“It’s just an interview!” she called.

“What kind of interview?”

“Baby, they gave me puppies,” Remus said gleefully, burying his face in Lucie’s fluff for a moment. “Like, really good puppies.”

A long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “How many are you holding?” Remus hesitated. “Sweetheart, how many dogs are currently in your arms?”

“Four.”

“Holy shit, Marlene! You gave him four dogs?!”

“They named them, too,” Remus added. “Pip, Juliet, Lucie Manette, and Mercutio. Baby, they named him Mercutio.”

“This was a recipe for disaster.” Despite his protests, Sirius sounded intrigued. “How old are they?”

Remus glanced up at Marlene. “They’re all six to eight months old,” she said.

Sirius blew out a slow breath. “So they’re babies.”

“They’re all up for adoption.”

“We have Hattie already.” Sirius was wavering. “But…she might possibly need a friend. Maybe.”

“You already love these dogs and you haven’t even seen them,” Remus said with a grin.

“The names are perfect! What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m going to sign the video off and then call you back, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t let go of the dogs until I get there, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Once the call ended, Remus faced the camera with a smile. Juliet and Pip had already fallen asleep. “Thanks for tuning in, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content. Endless thanks to Marlene McKinnon for allowing me to spend an hour holding tiny dogs. Have a great day!”

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[nobodycallsmerae]

139. “Hey! I was gonna eat that!” BBStar? (Beast boy x StarFire)

First off, I am so, soo sorry for the late answer!! 🙇🏻

I personally don't ship Beast Boy with Starfire, so ngl I was a bit reluctant to write this as I did not wanted the interactions to be stiff and weird ^^’

But, I wanna thank you for giving me this pair because I had a blast writing this!! (and guess what, I even low-key ship them now.)

Also, I read "the habitual affection of undefined things" by @callmefairyofthesea to like, get into the ship, and that one there is a masterpiece. You should totally check it out if you haven't already!!

I hope you like this story!! (I really, really hope you do 🤞)

_____

It was a beautiful sunny day, but Beast Boy was not exactly pleased.

It wasn’t that he was against sunny days or anything; the shapeshifter was all up for a bright day of team bonding and shenanigans, but on idle days like this, when they’d have nothing exciting to do, the bright, beautiful day reminded him too much of her.

The way the leaves waved in the air, much like her long fiery hair. The way the birds chirped and sang, almost rivaling her cheery aura, and most of all the way the sun shined, reminding him how she would make the room light up with her presence alone.

Sunny days never failed to remind him of her.

He blinked and looked away from the huge windows, coming back into the Titans’ common room with a sigh.

‘What’s with the sighs dude, you’re creeping me out.’ Cyborg commented from the couch, looking at him with a skeptical look.

Beast Boy just slightly shook his head with a tired smile as a silent response to his friend. He looked around the common room. Cyborg was on the couch, non-committedly playing a video-game and Raven was curled up with a book as usual. The green boy was sitting on the dining table, poking a piece of chocolate cake in front of him.

The delicious looking frosted cake was fresh, it was only brought to the Titans’ Tower that morning by Barbara Gordon, the leader’s girlfriend, who was visiting Nightwing from Gotham. The two bat-kids had been in a relationship for a year now, having started dating a year after Starfire and Nightwing had broken up.

The previous love-birds didn’t have a fight, and neither was their break-up nasty; they’d just realized that they weren’t exactly “the one” for each other, and called it quits on friendly terms.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Beast Boy spotted Silkie crawling on the table, inching closer to him, and he subtly slided the plate farther away from him so the mutant couldn’t reach it. He loved Silkie very much, but no sacrifices were to be made to the last piece of his favourite cake.

The alien animal happily moaned and squealed as the shapeshifter took him into his arms and began tickling him with care. Beast Boy was like Silkie’s dad, having co-parenting it alongside Starfire.

He sighed yet again, impulsively taking a look at a distracted Cyborg before falling into his thoughts again. Whatever he did, everything always came back to the alien beauty. Though it wasn’t an obsession, he made sure of that, it was just that thinking about her made him feel warm and giddy and things he never thought he could feel so strongly before.

The truth was, Beast Boy had fallen for Starfire.

How could he not?

He’d already had a school-boy like crush on her when he’d first met her all these years ago, and honestly, it was totally because of how she looked. Her beautiful hair, the elegant yet fierce way she carried herself, and didn't get him started on her magical, shining eyes. But over the years, as they’d all grown together, physically and emotionally, he’d fallen for her because of who she was.

She was Koriand’r, princess of Tamaran.

Starfire, a hero, who would do anything for the ones she loved, and even the ones who did not deserve her love.

She was kind, generous, compassionate, and so much more which Beast Boy guessed he didn’t know the words to describe.

She would always make others smile, and even have that pretty smile on her face, even when she didn’t feel like it. In many ways, Beast Boy had learnt through their many evenings together, she was so much like him.

She made him happy, truely, and he liked to believe that he made her happier too. Star would always smile when she was with her friends, but Beast Boy felt that sometimes, her smile would grow brighter, wider… or even softer when they’d have those unexpected stop and stare moments.

The green superhero let Silkie crawl out of his grasp as he heard the doors of the common room swooshed open, letting in a gush of air, as if to fan out his fogged thoughts.

He didn’t have to look up to know that Starfire had entered the room. Even though the princess hadn’t announced her entry yet, Beast Boy just knew. It was the aura that she carried herself with that told him. The aura of rainbows and gumdrops and unicorns who would totally kick your ass if you messed with them.

‘Hello friends!’ Starfire sang, gleefully flying into the common room.

Cyborg silently waved and Raven nodded in her direction, as Beast Boy smiled at their teammate’s entrance.

‘Hiy’a Star!!’ He greeted her with his usual goofy-grin. Even though he knew he was too obvious sometimes, he could never consciously let Starfire know about his unrequited love for her.

She could never know. He would never be able to face what comes next after she knew. Because, truth be told, Beast Boy knew the alien princess could never return his feelings. She’d dated the Boy Wonder, Dick Grayson for God’s sake! And the fact that she was who she was, she could do so much better, she would never even consider the elf-eared jokester.

‘There you are, my bumgorf!’ Starfire smiled as she flew closer to the dining table, where Silkie was resting beside Beast Boy’s feet. ‘I have been looking all over for the you!’

‘Don’t worry, Star, he was just playin’ with me.’ Beast boy reassured her with a smile.

‘Not again. I can’t take it any more.’ He heard Raven mutter from the couch, but he wasn’t sure if she was referring to him or her book.

‘Ooh, is that the chocolate cake Babs brought?’ Star asked, pointing at the long forgotten plate on the table.

‘Oh, yeah, I was ju-’ Before the hero could complete his sentence, the alien princess swooped in and ate the cake piece in one gulp.

‘What the-’ Beast Boy’s eyes opened wide in shock. ‘Hey! I was gonna eat that!’

‘But it was so far away from you. I didn’t think that..’ Starfire looked at him with confused eyes.

‘Yeah, but I was going to eat it!’ The shapeshifter cried, looking at his teammate. He looked at the crumbs and frosting sticking to her mouth, though he wasn’t completely sure if he was looking at the cake crumbs or her soft, rosy lips.

‘I am so sorry Beast Boy, I didn’t mean to steal the cake from you!’ Star confessed, feeling awfully guilty with her actions. ‘Did you really like it that much?’

‘Well, yeah,’ Beast Boy silently muttered with a pout. ‘It was my favourite…’

‘Well, if that is the case,’ Starfire walked towards him, with her cheeks dusted in a lovely pink. ‘You can have this.’ She timidly muttered, before pressing her lips into the unsuspecting shapeshifter’s.

Beast Boy’s first instinct would be to be on high alert, to understand what the hell was happening, but he was too much in bliss to think about any of that.

The strong taste of cocoa and vanilla was still lingering on her lips, mixed with her own unique taste that he knew he was addicted to the moment it mingled with his own. He wasn’t so short now like he used to be, so his well-built arm draped around her middle, with her hands resting on his muscled chest.

On the couch, the empath and the tin-man spared each other knowing glances, and Raven not-so-subtly forced out a cough, to let her friends know that they were there before things got more steamy.

The two superheroes let go of each other after a minute or so, both of them out of breath, and ridiculously red.

After an eternity of just staring at each other with dopey smiles, Beast Boy’s smile faltered, and he clenched his hands, looking at his feet.

‘What language?’ He muttered, not able to face her.

‘Huh?’ Star tilted her head in confusion.

‘What language?’ He repeated. ‘I don’t think there’s a language that I know and you don’t. Then why…?’

‘Don’t you get it, Beast Boy…?’ Starfire muttered under her breath, so quietly that Beast Boy could barely hear it with his super senses.

Starfire sighed and smiled at him, looking the most confident, yet at the same time the most nervous he'd seen her.

‘It was your favourite cake right?’ She began, twiddling her fingers. ‘How about I treat you to cake tomorrow evening? And a cup of coffee..? Or milkshake, anything! There’s a new cafe I know that opened down of the town.’

‘Oh..’ Beast Boy’s eyes opened wide with her offer. ‘Uh, yeah, sure, of course!’ Y-Yes.’

‘Glorious!’ The princess sighed, visibly relaxing. ‘So then… it is the date?’ She meant to say it as a statement, but it came out more like a question.

‘Ye-yes!’ Beast Boy exclaimed, almost jumping while dying it. ‘It-It’s a date!’

‘Joy!’ Star giggled, and joyfully flew out of the common room, not before giving him a sweet kiss on his cheeks. She even gave Raven a knowing glance, one that read “girls’ night tonight!” in big, bold letters.

As Beast Boy just stood there for forever, dumb and love-struck, he finally came to his senses as he touched his cheek. And lips.

‘Dudes…’ He breathed, ‘Th-that really happened right?’

‘Back up, sister,’ Cyborg laughed from the couch, playfully putting an arm in front of a smirking Raven. ‘Loverboy’s gonna blow.’

Silkie randomly squeaked from the ground, and the starstruk shapeshifter aimlessly looked out of the window and smiled.

And at that moment, Beast Boy knew one thing.

He loved sunny days. Even more so than chocolate cake.

_____

I feel like I've cheated on an actual person wt-

(but dang i'm actually into them now.) (don't tell bbrae i said that.)

random but this pair totally reminds me of Jackson and Siena's relationship from Hannah Montana~ (also the fact that Siena was a b-b-b-bikini model.)

[and yup, I am open to prompts now!! I have to practice writing for my fic (the titans musical one (check it out already y'all!!)) and as I feel like I haven't written anything in forever, I'm really rusty, so feel free to send prompts!!]

ps, please share your thoughts! they make me happy >///<

[ghost-thot69]

(I wrote this while very tired so it won’t be the best but the fanfic fingers don’t stop for anyone so I wrote some very cute rz Michael Myers and baby june fanfic after reading some fluffy fanfics of him)

Sunny Days (rz Michael Myers and June Marie Heisenberg-Myers)

TW: none. Nothing but sheer adorableness, proceed with caution ⚠️

The sun beamed down on Michael’s face. His long, unkempt, blond hair shining in the bright light as he waited outside of Westfield Elementary school. He stood as stiff as a board, except for his left foot, which he kept tapping repeatedly as he waited for June to come out of school.

He looked up at the giant clock on the outside of the school building, impatiently counting down the minutes, hell even the seconds till all the children came flooding out. A couple of parents would stare at him in intimidation. They, despite not knowing that he was a local mass murderer, we’re still very much afraid of him. I mean who wouldn’t be when a 6 foot 7 tall man who barely spoke a word to you or anybody else aside from his daughter, who had hair covering a majority of his chiseled face and had piercing blue eyes, was standing right next to you.

Michael wasn’t quite fond of having his face being shown either. He much preferred to have it hidden behind either one of his masks, however he can’t risk that chance of being caught. God knows what Dr Loomis and the cops would do to his kid if they arrested and/or killed him. And there was another reason why he kept his mask off in public. He loved seeing the cute little smile on June’s face when she saw him smile at her.

Michael’s mind began to wander on what he and June would do after school together. Would they go out for ice cream? Maybe play at the park? Whatever he had settled on, it was interrupted by the loud ringing of the school bell telling the kids it was time to go home.

Due to his height, he could easily see the kids coming out and was able to pick out June from the rest of them. However he wasn’t able to see her this time, it was hard to miss her with her long and wavy brown locks that came down to her ankles. Michael squinted his eyes to see if she was somewhere in the back amongst the crowd of little children running to their parents or the school bus, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Michael’s blood began to rush, worried that something might have happened to her that the school didn’t tell him about. He began to press forward towards the building before his ears picked up the little pitter-patter of tiny shoes on the ground.

“Papa!” A soft voice called out to him.

Michael looked up at the stairs, and rushing out the large doors came June, a piece of paper in her tiny hand. When she saw him, her face beamed happily, her taking a giant leap off the stairs and into the air.

Michael snapped out of his worried daze and held his arms out to catch her, the tiny girl landing in his large, muscular arms. June happily threw her arms around him in a hug, and nuzzled her face into his. “Papa! Papa!!” She cheered, covering his face in kisses.

Michael breathed out a sigh of relief before smiling at her, pushing the hair out her face. “Hello pumpkin.” He said softly. “How was school?”

June wiggled out of his arms and landed on the ground, jumping up and down happily. “It was good! Oh here here here!” She said, her handing him the paper she had in her hands.

Michael tried to grab it but she was so hyper that it shook before he really could get a hold of it. He chuckled before managing to grab it from her and looked at it. “What is it sweetheart?” He asked, tilting it to get a better look.

What was on the now slightly crumpled piece of paper was a drawing of what looked like him, Jason, herself and a very…very crudely drawn Freddy with the words “stinky pepperoni man” scribbled on it. Right next to them was their home and a couple of flowers, some grass, and the sun. In the corner was some sort of mysterious red stain.

“I drew this today! It's me, you and bubba Jason! Oh and Freddy’s there too I guess.” She murmured, her messing with her feet. “I’m mad at Stu, he got ketchup on it during lunch…”

Michael smiled. The drawing melted his heart, he looked on the back and saw that she had written “my family” on it. It made him happy that, even though she was adopted, and she knew that she was, that she sees them all as her family. He folded up the paper and put it in the pack pocket of his coveralls. He kneeled down to be at her height before taking her in a big hug, almost lifting her off the ground. “I love it,pumpkin. Thank you.”

June gasped out happily, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him back. Michael let her go and stood up, and grabbed her hand. They began to walk back to their home.

“So what are we going to do today papa?”

Michael hummed, looking up at the sky and then down at her. “Well I was thinking we can take the car and drive to the ice cream place?”

Ice cream? June love, love, LOVES ice cream. She frantically shook her head yes, clapping her hands in agreement. “Yes! Yes we gotta go!”

Michael laughed, swinging her arm as they walked. “Alright, let’s go eat then, you can get all the toppings you want.” He instantly regretted saying that. June is a hyper child and knowing her, she’d pile her ice cream in rainbow and chocolate sprinkles, gummy bears and whatever sweet treats that really shouldn’t be used as ice cream toppings, her little heart desires, but he couldn’t resist her. When she was left at his doorsteps as a baby, she changed his life for the better. He didn’t mind spoiling her, but not too much.

Hours later, Michael was laying down on the old, rundown, paisley yellow couch with June asleep on his chest, her snoring softly. The tv was on, playing whatever show she liked. He really couldn’t understand the concept of this young singer who hides her identity by just putting on a blonde wig and her and her friends' shenanigans and why this appealed to June, but it made her happy and that’s all that mattered to him.

Jason was off to the side, drinking a cup of hot chocolate through his mask, looking at the both of them all cheerfully, his energy radiating off the living room walls that, if you turned off the lights, Jason would be beaming head to toe like a lantern.

Freddy walked in, him groaning and rubbing his eye, him poking Jason in the shoulder. “Jason, stop it.” He grumbled, him walking to the couch that Michael and June were on and reached for the remote.

Michael slapped his hand away and shot a deathly glare up at him. “June’s show is on. Don’t you dare change that channel.”

Freddy hissed, shaking his hand which was now more red than it normally was. “What’s the big fuckin deal? She’s asleep and it’s just stupid ass Hannah Montana!”

Michael’s glare grew more intense, him slowly sitting up while holding a sleeping June closer to his chest so she wouldn’t fall. “I said, don’t. Touch. The God damn. Remote.” He hissed, violence backing up his words.

Freddy held his hands up in defense and scoffed, backing up. “Alright fine geez, I’ll watch tv in the kitchen then, good fuckin’ greif.” He muttered, making his way to the kitchen.

Michael rolled his eyes in annoyance and laid back down slowly so as to not wake up June. Lo and behold, she was miraculously still asleep, rubbing her eyes as she slept.

Michael flashed a warm smile down at her before leaning over and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Jason looked back over to the two before getting up and reaching into a small closet, digging through it before pulling out a small blue blanket. He waddled over as quietly as possible and laid the blanket over June and gave her a pat on her head, his hand ten times the size of her head.

Michael smiled and then turned his attention back to the tv. Before he had realized it the sun was down, and the Disney channel was playing whatever original movie that was causing a whole scene in her school. Teenagers, BLEGH! Dancing and singing about basketball, romance and whatever, He wasn’t paying attention. To be honest, he’d rather be watching the little mermaid, but the songs were catchy.

Michael let out a loud, very audible yawn before covering his mouth instantly and looked down at June, who again, was somehow still asleep through all the loud noise that went on. Jason was asleep on the couch behind him and using Freddy as some sort of teddy bear. Freddy was probably drunk off his ass to really care, but he was definitely going to feel his bones being crushed in the morning.

Michael huffed out and smiled at them all. He didn’t want to admit it to Freddy or Jason, but he was very glad that he had those two around him. The more he thought about the drawing June made for him of them as a family, the more he admitted that they were indeed a family. Originally, they were just there for hiding, though Freddy could go in and out of the dream realm as much as he pleases, he didn’t really need to hide, but I guess he stayed for whatever reason. Still, he needs to pay his rent. When June arrived, however, they did see themselves slowly becoming closer. They really were becoming a family.

June yawned, rolling over some, which snapped Michael out of his thoughts. He looked down at her and smiled, rubbing her cheek with his finger and moving her hair out of her face. He began to hum as he got up slowly from the couch and snuck past the other two and made his way up the stairs to June’s room. He began to navigate the room in the dark, making his way through stuffed toys and paper and crayons laid across the floor. He managed to find her bed, him pulling back the blanket and placing her in the sheets, laying her head on a pillow. He tucked her in blankets and laid under her arm a purple plush bunny.

June gently stirred about before a smile crept on her face in sleep.

Michael had leaned over and gave her a kiss on her head one last time before backing up and switching on a mushroom shaped night light that illuminated the room in a soft blue glow. “Goodnight Pumpkin. I love you.” He whispered, slowly closing the door behind him.

June rubbed her eyes, curling up in a ball under the blanket and held her bunny closer to her.

“I wuv..you too papa.”

[honoredbastard]

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani  + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings   — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note  — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

                                         *Yakuro Nanami.                                            he/they/bun! 

                  Now playing ayanami  — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on. 

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair. 

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple  words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god. 

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance.  “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace. 

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

           ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ             late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou. 

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.” 

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter. 

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes. 

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!” 

          ާlocation, the bonten loft.             early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war. 

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

[dobbyjen]

Tiny Dancer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader 

Rating: M

Word Count: 1900

Warnings: some swearing, kisses, a tad of drinking, cute dad Frankie 

Summary: Frankie comes home just in time for his daughter’s dance recital

A/N: So I’ve never written a fic before so this is my first one. Grammar and all that crap is probably wrong but whatever. I am no writer at all. If anyone does read it please be nice. It was just a cute little idea that popped into my head because the world needs more dad Frankie fics. Might write something else in the future in this universe if anyone reads this. 

__________________________________________________________

“Mommy when daddy come?” your 3 year old pouts as you help her into her ballet outfit. You sigh and grab the 2 fuzzy yellow scrunchies off the bathroom counter and start parting her hair into two.

“I’m not sure Franny.” she frowns even more and wiggles are head out of your hands.

“I wike daddy do hair!” she screams and stomps her foot onto the bathroom tiles. You groan as you look into her teary big brown eyes. Frankie’s eyes. Frankie has been gone for 6 days and it was getting alot harder to deal with the mini Frankie. Francesca Morales was the splitting image of her father. Looks and personality wise. And she was the BIGGEST daddy’s girl. She’d been wrapped around his finger the second she came out. 

“Daddy should be home soon and then you can show him pictures of how beautiful you look today.” her frown gets a tad smaller and she scoots back in between your legs for you to do her hair. “Maybe if you do your pretty toes so well we can get a treat after the recital?” you barely have time to tighten the last scrunchie as she whips around and crushes your neck into a hug.

“Yay mommy! Get pupcakes?! I so good at pwetty toes!” she skips around the bathroom practicing her pretty toes as you finish packing her little purple dinosaur backpack.

“Of course princess. Let’s get going before we’re late.”

__________________________________________________________

“Frankie you said you were done with this shit! I’m going to personality kick Pope’s ass.” you huff as you plop down on the bed. Frankie sighs and comes over, bending between you legs.

“It will be 3 days...max babe. We need the money. I’m doing this for you and Francesca.”

“Frankie...i swear to god if you don’t come home...i...i don’t know...”

“Hey hey hey everything is gonna be okay. Pope said there’s no way this can go wrong. It’s go in, get the money and we’re out home free. I promise.”

__________________________________________________________

“Do you want me to wait here in case she throws you out?” Pope snickers as he pulls up outside the Morales house. Frankie glares at Pope and smacks his hat off his head.

“Fuck off. If anything she’s gonna kick your ass.” Frankie mumbles as he gets out of the truck and runs up the front porch. He twists the doorknob and whacks his head on the door as he realizes its locked. “What the....” Frankie panics for a minute wondering why its locked. They only just moved into the house 2 months ago and hadn’t gotten around to getting a spare key hidden. Frankie wracks his brain for why you wouldn’t be home. There’s no way you left with Francesca was there? “Hey what day is it?” Frankie yells back to Pope who is still sitting in his truck.

“Uhhhh...Sunday June 12th?” Pope yells back and Frankie feels like he just got slapped in the face.

“FUCK!” Frankie yells and runs back into Pope’s truck. “Drop me off at the civic centre NOW.”

“What why? They’re not home?” Pope sputters as he rips the truck into drive.

“Today is Franny’s first dance recital and i think it already started. Fuck she’s defiantly gonna kill me now.”

__________________________________________________________

Pope doesn’t even have time to put the truck into park before Frankie is jumping out and running through the doors of the civic centre. He stops as he reads the sign looking for the room with the dance recital. Auditorium 5. He runs down the hallway and stops when he sees a table selling flowers.

“How much for all of them.” Frankie huffs as he grabs outs his wallet. The young boy stares at Frankie with a gaping mouth.

“Uhhhh.....they're’ a-a dollar a-a fl-flower sir.” Frankie nods and throws him a 10. The boy swallows his nerves and hands Frankie a bouquet of rainbow roses. Frankie murmurs a thanks and sneaks into auditorium 5. There’s no seats available so he just stands against the back wall. There’s a group of 2 year olds on stage at the moment attempting a hip hop routine and Frankie chuckles to himself thinking of how Franny would look hopping around to the upbeat music. He looks down at the program and sees that her group is next.

The hip hop group run off the stage and the crowd cheers for them. Two young girls come out and take away the previous props and set out 8 pairs of yellow pom poms. Walking on Sunshine starts to play as the 8 little girls coming skipping out to find their spots. Frankie’s face begins to hurt from smiling so much as he spots Francesca. Wearing her yellow dance onesie and yellow tutu with her hair up in two messy pigtails. She does the little 2 minute routine so well Frankie can feel his eyes welling up with tears. Fuck he’s proud of her. This is why he needed to get home. He couldn’t fathom missing another experience like this. You and Francesca were the reason he kept pushing though the hard days. You both were his entire world.

__________________________________________________________

The recital comes to an end and all the parents wait around in the main foyer waiting for their little dancer to come out. 

Frankie fidgets with the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he looks around the crowd for a glimpse of you. He looks down at his watch and panics that he missed you guys and you went home, until......

“DADDY?!!!” You look up startled by your daughter’s random outburst and Frankie spins around as he hears his little girl screaming. He drops to his knees as Francesca comes flying into his arms. Frankie wraps his one arm around her small body and cradles her head with his hand and holds her close to him. The flowers drop to the ground long forgotten.

“Hi princess. I missed you so much. You did so good with all your twirls.” he whispered to her, smothering her head with kisses. She giggles uncontrollably and moves her head to kiss Frankie’s face all over as well. Making sure she kissed away the couple of tears away that snuck out. “These flowers are for you Fran.” Frankie smiles and puts the giant bouquet in her tiny arms.

“Woooow!! Mommy look!” Franny squeals and Frankie finally looks up and is met with your tear filled eyes. He stands with Franny in his arms and walks over to you.

“Hi.” he whispers. You gasp as you wrap your arms around the both of them. Frankie sighs as he buries his face into you hair, breathing in your scent. Fuck he missed this.

“W-when did you get back?” you sniffle and pull back to look into his brown eyes. Francesca looked between her parents confused and pawed at both their faces to dry their tears. Frankie chuckled at her gesture and tickled her side a bit making his favourite sound ring through his ears. A very high pitched giggle.

“Uhh...like 2 hours ago? I stopped at home first and then realized what day it was. I won’t miss this day for the world.”

“You shaved.” You said as you rubbed your hands over his bare jaw. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his face this bare before. You loved his patchy beard so dearly but you could probably get used to this face as well.

“Daddy no more pokey.” Franny scrunched up her face and placed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. You both laugh.

“Do you like it love?” Frankie questions.

“As long as your home and safe that’s all that matters to me.” you whisper as you lean in to kiss his lips.

“Ew yucky kisses!!” Franny squeals as she pushes your faces apart. Frankie chuckles as he moves his kisses to all over his daughter face. “Mommy we get pupcakes now?”

“Mommy promised you cupcakes?” Franny nods her head and Frankie looks towards his wife.

“Well i guess you did do an amazing job princess and i did promise this morning. She barely let me do her hair. Wanted you to do it.” you said rolling your eyes at Frankie. Frankie chuckled as you all walked out to the parking lot. 

“I mean i would have done a way better job.” you rolled your eyes yet again and smacked his shoulder lightly as you unlocked Frankie’s truck. Frankie buckled Franny into her car seat and then shut the door. He turned and grabbed you in a bone crushing hug. “I’m so sorry it took so long love. Nothing went as planned and we didn’t even get the money. And I-I dont...”

“Frankie stop. You don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s go get our little ballerina a cupcake k?” Frankie smiles and captures your lips in one last kiss. “I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the moon and back even more.”

__________________________________________________________

“I think she finally crashed” Frankie says as he grabs a beer from the fridge and plops down next to you on the couch taking a big swig.

“I swear to god if she doesn’t sleep through the night again I’m gonna...ugghh” You mumble into your wine glass. 

Frankie turns towards you and raises an eyebrow. “She hasn’t been sleeping?”

“Umm not since you’ve left. She wakes up around 2:30 every night crying for you. So i bring her into bed and she sleeps on your pillow with one of your shirts. It soothes her back to sleep. She also naps with one of shirts.” You sigh and look away from him, blinking back the tears. Frankie frowns, puts his beer on the coffee table and grabs your wine glass too. 

“Cmere.....i’m so sorry i left babe. I didn’t mean for it to be so hard for you. I’m never leaving again.” You cry into his side as he rubs his hand through your hair.

“What-what happened Frankie....I know you’re not okay. You don’t just disappear off the face of the earth for a week. Pope said it was going to be okay....I wouldn’t have let you go if...”

Frankie shudders and looks up at the ceiling trying to blink the tears away. You sit up and grab his face gently in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I’ve got you honey. Whenever you want to talk i’m here.” you give a small reassuring smile and wipe the silent tears falling down his face. That breaks Frankie. He begins to sob and explain the terrible events of the last week. You hold him and listen. 

When he’s finished you both just lay on the couch holding each other.

“When- when we lost Tom....all i thought about was you and Francesca and how I needed to get home. I swear to god I am never doing anything like that again. Pope said the money should free up by Wednesday so we’ll be good for a while. Will and I were thinking of opening up a shop, keep is busy for a while. I’m never leaving you guys ever again. We can take Franny to the shelter next week and she can pick out her dog finally.”

You giggle at the dog comment. That little girl has been asking for a dog the second she could talk and Uncle Benny put that idea into her head. “She’d really like that. And i’m also still kicking Pope’s ass next time I see him.”

Frankie laughs and kisses you head “Oh babe I’ve already warned him.”

__________________________________________________________

[preciouspeterbparker]

i wish i were, part 2

link to part 1

summary: it’s tony’s 18th birthday

warnings: non-con voyeurism, underage masturbation, underage sex, step-sibling inc*st, angst, fluff (can you believe it???)

word count: 3.3k

feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

enjoy!!

-bloo 

The sharp sound of knuckles on a wooden door, accompanied by a sweet, loving voice he’s known his whole life. "Good morning, sweetheart." 

Peter rouses from his sleep, grumbling at the soft yet incessant knocking on his door. He blinks blearily in the direction of the voice before burying his face in the warm spot on his pillow. "'M up," he croaks, clutching the comforter closer to his chest. "Just...just four...mmm...four more minutes…"

"Peter," comes Mom's soft chuckle as she enters the room. Her slippered feet shuffle along the floor as she makes her way over to the bed. Her fingers card gently through Peter's slightly sweaty sleep-mussed curls. "You wanted me to wake you up a bit early this morning, remember?" Maria laughs again at the grumbling that leaves the teen's mouth in response. She leans down to press her lips to the side of his head in a kiss. “You wanted to help make Tony’s birthday breakfast,” she reminds him gently. 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter yawns, wriggling under the covers for a minute before pushing himself up into a sitting position. The comforter falls to his lap as he stretches, extending his arms in the air above his head and rolling his bare shoulders. “Did we decide what we were making? Chocolate chip waffles? Or blueberry?” 

“Well, I was thinking chocolate chip. But your father,” she says pointedly, as if Richard can hear her from where Peter knows he’s sitting in his armchair with a mug of coffee and staring blankly into space, “forgot to get them when he was at the store. So, how about we go a little crazy and use M&M’s, hmmm?” Her hands go out in front of her in a ‘ta-da’ motion, hazel eyes twinkling playfully. 

Snorting, the teenager climbs out of bed, adjusting the black joggers slung along his hips. He snags a random t-shirt from his dresser and pulls it down over his head. “Sounds good, Mama.” Peter gently bumps up against her affectionately as they leave his room, heading down the hallway and taking the stairs down to the kitchen. 

“Hey Dad,” Peter grins at his father, who is indeed zoned out in the living room and jumps a bit at the sound of his voice. Typical. 

Richard rolls his eyes at Peter’s giggling and sends him a smile. “Morning, Pete. Morning, honey,” he adds on when he sees Maria descending the stairs behind his son. He gets up to follow them into the kitchen, standing behind his wife and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And where’s our legal adult? Already out buying lottery tickets and cigarettes?” He gulps down a sip of his coffee and takes a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

“Hush, Richie,” Maria chides, pulling her blonde hair up into a bun and grabbing her apron from its hook by the pantry. “You know Tony’s never up before ten on a Saturday, at least not of his own volition.” Reaching into the cabinet above the stove, she pulls down the flour and baking powder. “Punkin, can you get the eggs and vanilla, please?” 

The teen hums in assent, pulling the carton out of the fridge and sidestepping to the pantry where he narrows his eyes at the racks on the back of the door that are filled with bottles of different spices and seasonings. “I don’t see vanilla,” Peter mutters under his breath. There’s almond extract, peppermint extract, lemon... “Mom, I don’t- Oh, nevermind, found it,” he exclaims with a flourish, brandishing the small red and white box in the air. 

Warm conversation and the sounds of cooking fill the kitchen as Peter and Maria make breakfast, Richard chiming in from his perch at the island. Soon, there’s a large stack of rainbow-spotted waffles on a platter, laid out on the table with whipped cream, dishes of cut up cut up bananas and strawberries, and a bottle of chocolate syrup. 

Richard gets up to pull some plates out of a cabinet and brings them over to the dining room table along with four sets of silverware. “Peter, will you go wake up your brother? Bring him down so we can sing. And eat, these waffles look amazing.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Dad.”  Peter heads upstairs, passing his room and the bathroom before stopping in front of the door that’s across from his. “Tony?” He taps his knuckles on the wood a few times and waits until he hears Tony’s mumbled greeting. Smiling softly, he twists the knob and pushes the door open, leaning on the jamb as he does so. “Wake up, T,” he sing-songs, “it’s time for your birthday breakfast.” He curses the butterflies that have become active and hopes that he looks more casual and less obvious than he feels. 

Peter’s breath catches in his throat once the door is fully open and Tony’s in his line of vision. The now-eighteen year old is sitting up in his bed, lit up by the morning sun shining in through the window on the opposite wall, comforter pooled around his waist. His dark hair is rumpled and wild. Peter fleetingly wonders if that’s what it would look like if he were to run his fingers through it, if he were to pull at it while-

“Mmm, g’mornin Pete-squeak. I was getting ready to come down. Smells so good it woke me up.” Tony raises his arms above his head, stretching, and thrusts his hips up a bit as he curls his bare back. Heat blooms in Peter’s gut at the way his older brother’s muscles shift under his tanned skin, at the thatch of hair under his arms, and it intensifies when Tony’s legs shift as he changes his posture to an arch, dislodging the covers. 

Peter tries his best not to stare at the line of dark hair that goes from Tony’s belly button down into the front of his gray sweats. He’s- fuck, he can see the thickness of Tony’s cock pressed up against the fabric. Fuck, Tony's gotta be at least half hard… Or, God, is he that big soft?

He concludes that the latter must be the case, because Tony slides right out of the bed and shuffles towards him without an ounce of shame. His hand lands on the top of Peter's head, ruffling the already messy curls in his signature move. Peter wrinkles his nose, and almost ducks away from the touch before remembering to take what he can get when it comes to the feeling of his brother’s hands on his body.

"Let's go Pete-squeak, 'm starving." Tony lumbers through the door after grabbing a black t-shirt shirt off the floor and yanking it down over his head, and Peter follows dutifully behind him, the two making their way down the stairs. So what if his eyes are on Tony’s ass the whole way down.

Maria and Richard must have been listening for them, because it seems that the two immediately start singing from their places at the dining room table when they hear the boys reach the landing at the bottom of the stairs. 

Tony promptly rolls his eyes at their parents, but Peter feels himself go a little hot when he notices the pink tinge that spreads over his brother's cheeks. There's a shimmer in Tony's eyes and Peter thinks, not for the first time, that his brother is kind of sickeningly beautiful. He takes a seat across from Mom at the table, Dad to his right and an empty chair to his left. 

“Oh, Tony,” Maria coos once they've concluded their slightly off-pitch rendition of happy birthday, her own eyes shimmering with tears. She wipes them away with a sniffle. “My baby, I can’t believe you’re eighteen! Feels like just yesterday I was bringing you home, all eight and a half pounds of you!"

Tony makes eye contact with Peter before sitting down next to Mom and Peter, across from Dad. “Relax, Mama,” he chuckles, already reaching to stab three waffles with his fork and pile them onto his plate. Once he’s made his (nearly overflowing) plate, everyone else follows suit. “Thanks for making breakfast Mama, you too Pete. Thanks for...offering moral support while they cooked, Pop,” he grins at Richard, making Peter snort. 

“Got any big plans today, sweetheart?”

“Not really,” Tony says around a mouth full of waffle, chocolate, banana, and whipped cream. The groan he lets out is absolutely indecent- or maybe that’s just the way it sounds to Peter as he tries to inconspicuously shift in his seat. “Fuck, these are so good, Momma.” Tony’s eyes are closed, so he definitely doesn’t notice the way Peter’s pupils are blown, nor does he see the long-suffering side-eye he knows both parents are throwing at him for his language. 

 “Well,” Maria continues, taking a bite of her own waffle, “I’m sorry Dad and I are busy, but we’ll all go out for dinner tomorrow night, how’s that sound?” 

Richard nods in agreement, taking another sip of his coffee. “We can go to that Mexican place downtown you guys love so much.”

Tony bobs his head as he chews, reaching over to flick Peter’s ear. “No problemo, I was thinking maybe me and Pete-squeak can hang out today, anyway. And yes on dinner.”

Peter squawks around a mouth full of waffles, swinging his leg out to kick the brunette in the shin, ignoring Dad’s muttered “No violence at the table please, boys”. He screws his face up in mock indignation. “What makes you think I’m not busy today?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Are you?” The he says it and the twinkle in his eyes feel like a challenge but-

Taking another bite, Peter shakes his head. There’s no use trying to deny it when he purposefully kept his schedule clear for the day in hopes of spending it with Tony. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

*

Tony notices the way that Peter looks at him sometimes, he's not stupid. He just chooses not to acknowledge it. (Well, admittedly, first he noticed the way Peter was around Pepper. His little brother has never been particularly comfortable around people who weren’t family, but this is different. He’s noticed the way that Peter makes himself scarce whenever he invites his girlfriend over (which, to be honest, he usually appreciates because who wants their sibling around when they’re trying to make out with their partner??), or the way he goes quiet whenever she’s brought up in conversation.) If Tony doesn’t acknowledge it, then he doesn’t have to think about the way it makes him feel, the things it makes him think. 

And it works, for the most part. They spent the day binge-watching superhero movies on the couch, dozing off and on. Mom and Dad still weren’t home at dinner time, so Tony had suggested they make spaghetti, for no specific reason other than it’s the only thing he knows how to make. It was nice, jamming to 70s rock and singing along with Peter, talking about everything and nothing at all. They parked themselves back on the couch to eat dinner, choosing some random slapstick comedy on Netflix.

The movie’s over now and Peter just headed into the kitchen with their plates, claiming he had a surprise for Tony. The older teen leans back on the couch, stretching. He notices how dark it is; they’d turned the lights off once they finished eating in order to get rid of the glare on the TV. He debates getting up to turn on one of the lamps when he hears footsteps approaching. 

Peter comes out from the kitchen and walks towards the couch. He’s holding a cupcake in his hands, a red single red candle placed in the center of the blue frosting. There’s a square red-wrapped box tucked up under one of his arms. In the dim lighting that shines in from the kitchen, the small flame reflects in the depths of his brown eyes, face illuminated in the glow. “Happy birthday to you,” he sings softly, eyes trained on the cupcake rather than Tony himself. 

Tony’s suddenly struck with just how beautiful Peter is. He’s never really noticed it before (he has, but he’s been in denial for so long that he’s started to believe the lies he tells himself). His chestnut curls are strewn haphazardly on his head, and though he can’t quite make them out right now, Tony thinks of the freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose. 

“...Happy birthday, dear Tony, happy birthday to you,” Peter finishes, sitting down on the couch beside him. He holds the cupcake out towards his older brother. “Make a wish,” he smiles, shifting the present that’s fallen into his lap.

“Hmmm,” Tony breathes, carefully taking the cupcake into his own hands. “What to wish for,” he mutters playfully, smiling back at Peter. He thinks for a moment before closing his eyes. He blows the candle out without making a wish, but what Peter doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He sits the cupcake down on the coffee table before making grabby hands at the box Peter’s now holding in his hands. “What’s that, Petey?”

“It’s uh,” Peter starts, swallowing. “A camera?” It comes out sounding like a question. “I know you’re leaving soon, for college, and I just- For memories- I don’t want you to...forget me,” he finishes quietly. 

...Tony doesn’t know what to say to that yet he opens his mouth anyway. But before he can get the words out, Peter seems to catch himself and brightens up. 

“And I want you to take pictures of everything at MIT so you can show me when you come back to visit- I’ve never been away from home before, I want to see what it’s like, what kind of fun stuff you get to do. Get some ideas for when I leave, next year.”

Tony tries not to let his feelings show on his face, choosing to let Peter’s first comment go. He gently takes the box from his brother’s hands and unwraps it, pulling out the polaroid camera. “This is so cool,” he grins. “Thanks so much, Peter.” Bumping their shoulders together, he starts to fiddle with the settings. “Help me get it set up so we can take some pics.”

Peter’s grin lights up the room.

***

Peter knew it was too good to be true, that something wasn’t adding up. He didn’t get good things like this. He didn’t get to be happy like he was today. And he had been so happy, happier than he’s felt in months. 

He had deluded himself into thinking that Tony choosing to spend the day with him meant something special...now Peter knows better. He knows that he was just something to pass the time until Tony got to see who he really wanted to spend his big day with. He’d been caught off guard but honestly not surprised when the doorbell rang this evening, followed by Tony’s footsteps rushing down the hall and down the stairs, and he’d quietly closed his door at the sound of Tony’s breathy, excited, “Hey, Pep. Come on in, baby. Nobody’s home, just Peter.”

Just Peter. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s all he would ever be, just Peter. 

Now Peter’s laying in bed, facing the wall that his room shares with Tony’s. His eyes are red and sore from crying, and his lips taste like salt from the snot and tears. There’s a pile of cold, wet crumpled up tissues touching his elbow, tucked up close to his body. He’s bothered by the sensation but not enough to do something about it. He doesn’t have the energy.

Blinking slowly and wincing, Peter unlocks his phone and squints at the bright light in the darkness of the bedroom. 10:47pm. He was crying longer than he thought, almost two hours. No wonder he feels so worn out. He can no longer hear the sounds of whatever movie Tony and Pepper were watching downstairs. He briefly wonders if she went home-

But then two pairs of footsteps are making their way down the hall, and one keeps going towards what he presumes is Tony’s room while the other stops briefly in front of his door. Peter quickly fumbles with his phone to lock it and make the screen go dark, jerkily pulling the covers up over himself to hide his body, leaving only the top of his head exposed on the pillows as he feigns sleep. He just barely makes it before his door creaks open slowly. 

“Pete? You up?” Tony’s voice is a whisper, and Peter desperately tries to control his breathing despite the way his heart is racing unsteadily in his chest. His performance must be convincing because a moment later his door closes softly and he can hear Tony’s footsteps leaving and then the sound of another door shutting. 

"Fuck." It's Tony's voice that Peter hears first. “Been missing you all day, Pep. Kept wishing you were here.” Though muffled, the words are pretty easy for him to make out; they must be on Tony’s bed. (For the first time, Peter wishes that their beds weren’t sharing a wall. He regrets rearranging his room last summer. The sounds he’s heard over the past months no longer seem worth it. He doesn’t want to hear this, whatever it is.) 

A feminine chuckle is what he hears next. “I just wanted you to be able to celebrate with your family. We’ll have plenty of time together in Boston.” Oh yeah. Pepper’s going to Boston too, attending Harvard rather than the engineering school. Peter tries really hard not to think about it, the amount of time they’re going to have alone together. “You’re leaving soon, and I know they’re going to miss you, especially Peter. He thinks you hung the moon, babe, it’s so cute.”

Peter tenses, and if he had hackles they’d definitely be up right now. He feels angry and attacked and seen in a way that makes him want to claw the skin off his body. His fists clench, nails digging into his palms and leaving crescent-shaped indentations in the flesh. 

“...Know what else is cute? You.” He can almost imagine Tony’s saying the words to him, instead. 

It’s quiet for a few moments and he foolishly thinks maybe they’ve gone to bed but then he hears the faint yet distinct sound of wet kisses, accompanied by choked off moans and whimpers. It feels like he’s gotten ice water dumped over him. He picks up on the quiet creaking of the mattress. 

Pepper, high pitched and breathy, trying to keep her voice down. "Tony, yes, yes, right there." More whining and groaning, then-

Then Tony. "Yeah, honey? Like the way I fuck so deep in your pussy? Can you feel me all the way back there?" Peter can’t help but get hard at the sound of Tony’s voice saying the words, even though his heart feels like a stone in his chest. He feels like he’s lost feeling in most of his body, only registering the throbbing in his groin and the tightness in his ribcage. He distantly thinks that he must be dissociating but, maybe not because he’s aware, he- "Love how you're so wet on my cock- so tight, baby, fuck."  

Peter shudders as he spits into his palm and shifts on the bed to turn onto his side. One hand snakes its way under the covers and into his boxers where his cock is rapidly filling out. He strokes himself to the quickening rhythm of the creaking and closes his eyes, trying not to picture what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It doesn’t work, but he doesn’t wipe away the tears that start to spill out from his eyelids. He’s close already, he’s so pathetic-

“Oh, fuck, Tony, please, gimme-”

“Mmmm, yeah baby- God, shit, I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up- Fuuuck, fuck-” 

With a sob, he cums into his fist at the sound of his brother’s release, burying his face into the pillow to muffle his cries. Peter takes a shaky breath and shakes his head against the fabric to wipe the tears away as the sobs intensify, wracking his body. He's gasping for air that will never come.  

It’ll never be better than this.

[g0ldengubler]

chapter 5~the aftermath

(*i do not own this gif*)

A/N:

Category: fluff

CW: other than talking about weed and sex, it’s just pure fluff :)

Word Count: 2493

before you read | last chapter | next chapter

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

"Don't make me say it again, angel. I can ruin you just by touching you and you know that."

"Yes, daddy!"

Spencer hovered over you, smirking as he continued to thrust inside you. You're tied up to his bed, all ankles and all wrists. He chokes you as he endlessly pounds you into the mattress, making you feel light headed yet your body is full of pleasure. You try to scream but nothing can come out. Spencer can tell you're close as your pussy clenches around his cock repeatedly.

"You wanna cum, princess? Does daddy's little girl want to cum all over his cock, hm?" Spencer asks. You try to answer him but he cuts you off.

"Beg." He growls as he lets go of your throat.

"Please daddy, please let me cum all over your cock! I can't hold it any longer PLEASE!" you scream. You can feel his cock twitch, knowing that he was close, too, "I need your cum daddy!"

He smirks again, giving a little chuckle as he leans in. "Cum for me, angel," he says harshly in your ear, "And don't be shy about it. I want to hear you as you feel my cum shoot inside you."

As he moves away from your ear and to the crook of your neck, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You scream even louder as you cum, mixing with his growls. "Yes baby, just like that...oh fUCK!"...

———————————

A thud from the other side of you jolts you from your slumber. You quickly turn around to the right of you and see nothing but a bent elbow popping out from the side of the bed. Spencer must've went to the bathroom at some point during the night, because his bedroom door was left open, letting sunlight shine through the room, hurting your eyes in the process. You get on all fours and crawl to the other side of the bed and level yourself higher to see if he was ok.

"You good?" you ask him, trying to hold back a laugh.

Spencer looks up at you, rubbing the back of his head. He had thrown on a pair of gray sweatpants and his top half was completely bare, showing off his body and, to your surprise, some muscle was showing. Nothing like Morgan's, but they were there, and looked really good on him with his long hair. The two of you just stare in silence for a few moments as you cover your mouth to not only help the laughing urges, but also because you couldn't believe you looked down at the sweatpants. A small part of you was hoping that he got morning wood or something.

"Yeah, my ass hurts, though." He chuckles.

You reach out for your hand and he takes it, pulling him up from the floor and lay back in bed. You lay facing each other, his hand being used to prop him up. He looks at you as if he's content with where his life is right now. You look into his eyes and see that he's comfortable, as if the two of you have known each other for years and this was something normal.

"Hi." Spencer says, looking down at you.

You were laying on your right arm, hands in fists underneath your chin, holding on to the comforter like a stuffed animal.

"Hi."

He reaches out with his right arm and moves a strand of hair from your face. "Did you sleep good?"

"Yeah, being high can make that happen," you chuckle, "Did you?"

"I haven't slept that good in a long time, and I thought sleeping after a finished case was the best."

You smile as he softly laughs at himself. Something about him made you have butterflies in your stomach. The smallest things he was doing made you feel something you couldn't put a finger on, as if there wasn't a name to it.

"Would you like some waffles?" Spencer asks softly.

You nod your head. You were never really a breakfast person, especially after that incident you had when you were five after puking in the middle of the movie theater from the pancakes you ate before hand. But waffles were special to you. Your father would make them every Sunday morning before going to the video store to grab a few dvd's for the movie night you'd have that night.

"Don't worry, I can make them." You said as you got out of bed and started to try to find your clothes.

Spencer hurries to his drawers and grabs you one of his Caltech shirts. "Ok 1.I folded your clothes and put them out in the living room, but wear this for now if you'd like. And 2.You don't have to do that, I don't mind making them. After all, it is my apartment."

"1. You're very sweet, thank you. And 2.True, but I don't think you'd want to miss out on my dad's special, homemade waffles."

He grins in excitement, curious as to what made the waffles so special.

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

"You were right, I'm glad I didn't miss out on these," Spencers says as he chews on his last bite, "these are amazing, Y/N!"

"Well thank you, kind sir!" You say in a funny British accent before taking a sip of the tea he made for you. Thank god he had your favorite, black tea. You were very vanilla when it came to the treats and drinks you liked, but you didn't care.

Spencers giggles a bit after swallowing, grabbing his coffee mug. The two of you were silent for awhile. He was reading one of his books that he got from his shelves as you looked around at the forest green walls of his apartment. You started to daydream about last night. The way he was so dominant with you, making you feel like you were his and only his. To touch, to feel, to hold. What were you guys now? You had just met a week ago and went from working on a case to getting high with Dr.Spencer Reid and fucking with him. It all happened so fast, you're just now feeling it like jet lag. You felt yourself shrivel up into a ball on the inside. You knew you had to talk about the past couple of nights, and you could tell that Spencer knew it, too.

"Spence, we need to talk." You say quietly.

He sets his coffee mug down on the table, looking down at the mug. "Yeah," he says, his eyes moving up to yours, "we do."

"What are we now," you ask, "We just met a week ago and already we did stuff that normally would happen after knowing each other for awhile. I enjoyed all of that, don't get me wrong, but...I don't know. Maybe what we have doesn't need a title." You look back to him in silence, the feeling of guilt and selfishness covering your entire body. "If you don't want to continue with any of this and just start being friends, as if none of this had happened, I'm tot-"

"That's the last thing I want to do," He reaches out across the table with both hands and holds yours into his, "Y/N, I really enjoyed these past two nights as well. I've never had a connection like this before, let alone do any kind of drug. I usually try to stay away from it because of my eidetic memory, but for some reason, I really, really loved getting high with you. I would like to continue what we have. Whether we use labels or not, we could be friends with benefits if you wanted to as well. I don't think I want this to end, and we've clicked since we met in the conference room."

You smiled at him. You didn't think he'd want to continue with you, let alone continue to be your friend. No one wanted to be your friend growing up, and the one friend you did have wasn't really the one to do the normal things friends do. Instead, they would go on and on and on about all the history facts they knew and never really valued you. Most of the time, they'd use you and ignore you, making fun of your love for wanting to stop the bad guys. Spencer was showing you different, however. He was listening to you, speaking back to your sentences. It was all so new coming from another person that wasn't your dad.

"Especially when it's with a pretty girl like you." He mumbles to himself as he raises his mug to his lips.

"What was that last part?" You ask.

"Hm?" He pretends to not know what you were talking about and you knew that, so you didn't push anymore.

"Well, since we both enjoy with what we have going on, I agree to a friends with benefits relationship with you," you said grabbing your tea, "but we have to keep it from the team. God, if they knew, all hell would break loose."

"Yeah, and Garcia isn't one for keeping secrets. Trust me, we had a new member several years ago and she only told Hotch and Morgan that she was pregnant. When she saw her glowing, Garcia grabbed her wrist and brought her into the conference room where she kinda made her announce to the rest of us."

You almost spit out your tea as you hold in a laugh. Even with this short amount of time, you could already tell that Garcia was just a bundle full of rainbows and unicorns and excitement, so much so she could never contain it. But the fact that she innocently made someone give this big announcement out when she probably wasn't ready to do so yet, that was something that didn't shock you fully, but did a little bit.

Spencer grabs both of your plates and brings them to the sink. He sits back down and takes another sip of his coffee. "How about we talk about it over lunch today," he asks, "There's a popular diner just a couple blocks from here that people are raving about. Says they treat their costumers like family, even if it's your first time there."

Before you could say yes, your phone rings. You pick it up and see that the caller ID was none other than your father. Spencer tells you he's going in the shower as you press the green button and put the phone up to your ear.

"Hey dad!"

"Hey, pumpkin! How's Dave and the team treating you?"

"Great! They welcomed me in right away, even though we were on a case. They treat each other like family, it's nice to have when you're surrounded by death."

"Yeah, I saw on the news. I'm so proud of you, you know that right? And I'm so glad that they're taking good care of you. I did call Dave on your first day to make sure of it."

"Dad!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I had to."

You then tell him about what happened after the case. Not everything, obviously, but you did tell him that you and Spencer really connected at Garcia's place and became really good friends after the case was over. You hear the shower turn off as you sit on the couch. Your father then asks you something, and you couldn't wait to tell Spencer. He ends it by telling you to have a good lunch with Spencer along with, "If that boy hurts you-" but you cut him off telling him not to worry, "He wouldn't even hurt a fly unless it was a serial killer."

"Alright honey, call me when you can ok? I love you."

"Love you, too Dad. Bye."

As you hang up, Spencer walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, another smaller one running through his hair to dry. You look at him, speechless.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He jokes.

"I might take you up on that offer," you say, "but maybe they'd be of me to send to you."

You wink at him. He then laughs and throws his wet hair towel at you. You throw it back, laughing along with him.

"So, your dad called?" He asked as he walked to his room to change.

"Yeah, he just wanted to make sure I was ok after the case and made sure that Rossi was treating me well along with the rest of you."

"Your father seems like a good man!" He says loudly.

"Yeah, he is. Thank god for that and for the fact I don't have any daddy issues."

"That's not what it looked like last night." He walks in wearing a tannish brown, grandpa-like cardigan with a maroon undershirt. His pants were a darker brown, darker like chocolate, and he paired it with his black converse. You grab a pillow from behind you and threw it at him and he throws it back, the laughter from before continuing.

"Be glad I called you sir and not daddy last night. I usually say daddy but only because it brings out the dominant personality during sex. I also have a theory that it also gives the guy a confidence boost. But I was respectful because we just met and I didn't know how'd you feel about it."

Spencer sits next to you, elongating his arm behind you, resting it on the top of the couch. "I mean," he begins, "I wouldn't mind being called daddy. I've only had sex a few times before this, but last night was completely different. I've never been like that before, ever. But I kind of liked it. Makes want to experiment more."

You smile at him, letting the feeling of embarrassment wash away. You always felt so insecure about that, especially because sometimes it gets a bad rep. But you loved being submissive way too much to let it sting you.

"Hey, Spence?"

"What's up?"

"Would you like to take a road trip to my dad's cabin in Michigan for the weekend?"

He thinks for moment, and as he does, you help convince him.

"No, my dad won't be there. But I think it'd be great to take advantage of it and use it as a way to get to know each other more. Maybe we could even go by the dispo's there and grab some things to pass the time..."

"Oh, now I'm in!"

[widowsofchaos]

The Wolf, The Widow, & Their Angel

Writing’s Game created by the baddest, Roo! @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ *screams like a feral banshee* tHe BaDDesT BiTcH sHE iS!

~my given prompt~

Pairing: dark!BuckyNat x black!Reader

Summary: You start to dissociate looking through windows, and it concerns your captors.

Warnings: ddlg relationship, forced age regression, mentions of spanking, water sports, and kidnapping, eventual Stockholm syndrome. a dash of yandere behavior.

a/n: hiii, so glad im finally into the swing of writing, and I really wanted to dive into this writing challenge made by Roo! Trope: Snowed In // Item/Location: Windows. Seems really fun, and gives a chance for people to explore different kinks and scenarios given to them! So I hope you enjoy! There has been things changed for sake of the story, like cause fuck canon sometimes, right? Muahaha💋

do not repost my works!

Snowflakes hit against the windows, sounding like tiny BB bullets as the bellowing winds harshly beats against the bullet-proof glass.

Ever-growing thick piles of snow surrounded the Avengers compound, as New York City is under attack by one of the worst snow-storms the city has ever endured in years.

Airports are temporarily shut-down, so are local businesses, the streets deserted with no sign of life. Nature’s cold wrath forces citizens to self-quarantine, and celebrate Christmas indoors, snowed in for perhaps a few weeks.

So much for your grand escape.

Six months you have been held captive, and forced to prance around like a living doll. A toy to satiate your captors’ sexual appetites and deep-rooted needs to protect ‘an innocent angel like yourself.’ As you sit here on the cold floor of the living room, battling boredom, and your solemn thoughts, mindlessly chewing on the pink paci in your mouth, you didn’t hear one of your captors and one of their accomplices walk in.

Fidgeting in your white onesie that had multiple crayon drawn rainbows printed on it, as you try to find some comfort - your buttocks still stung from this morning’s spanking. Your coco-brown buttocks peaking from your onesie, your diaper peaking from the edges, deep purple and yellow bruises painting your skin were apparent. That’s the abuse a metal prosthetic can inflict.

Your bronze skin now shiny with lotion to soothe the burgundy raw welts. You can barely sit still, rocking back and forth to relieve some tension. Sniffling trying to zone out in your mind.

Your hair was in two split curly pigtails, each split of massive hair clipped with two pink bows. Your index finger twirling in your chocolate curls, as the other hand was toying with the fabric of your white booties, with tears in your eyes, trying to imagine time spent with your real family.

Are they okay? Do they miss you? Have they been searching for you?

You can still recall the day you were kidnapped, it was a blur, it was so quick,

As the two perpetrators waltz silently towards you, as your back facing them, suddenly one of them playfully pull on your pigtails.You gasp, your eyes wide as saucers, as your mouth opened, your paci fell on your lap. Your day-dreaming shattered, as if you were high in the clouds then held by the calf and dragged right back to reality.

“Hey baby.” A husky velvety voice spoke against your ear, your heart hammering harshly against your chest. It’s him, the former Winter Soldier, his close companions call him Bucky, but you’re forced to call him daddy.

“Uncle Steve told me that you have been sitting here for hours” he brought his thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize began to fall. You glanced over your shoulder to see Steve standing by the door-way smiling adoringly at the sight of a daddy and his baby, leaning against the door frame, with his strong hands stuffed in his jean pockets.

You felt menacing cerulean blue eyes burn a hole in your skull, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from yours even if he tried. To him, you were perfect. You were a gift from God, an angel sent to ease his burdens along side his wife, Natasha. You couldn’t bare looking into his eyes, too intense, too suffocating. A flash of affection beamed across his eyes.

You whined, shuffling as best as you could away from your captor, “Baby, you dropped your paci.” Bucky plucked your pacificer from the floor, bringing towards your chapped lips, “Now it’s dirty, my sweet baby can’t have a dirty paci ...” he trailed off, the rims of your eyes slightly red, glossy from the forthcoming droplets.

He knows why you’ve been crying, he had to punish you this morning. You were trying to act like a big girl, and refused to be bathed, insisting you can clean yourself as an adult.

A smirk slowly crept on Bucky’s bearded face, he noticed you was leaning forward, preventing any bodily pressure to increase on your sore ass. “Is my baby’s cute ass sore?” His nose brushed against your cheek, a guttural moan vibrated in his throat, inhaling your scent; his hot breath fanning over your tear-stained face.

His pink lips hairs away from yours, growing agitated that you didn’t respond, he gripped one of your pigtails with his flesh hand.

You yelped in pain, your button nose scrunched, brows furrowed deeply; the prickly pins and needles sensation scorching throughout your scalp, as Bucky held your hair in a death clutch. “Answer your daddy! Is my baby’s cute ass sore?!” Bucky snarls like a beast.

You choked back a sob, forced to look into his cerulean blue eyes, clouded by grey storm clouds. His pupils dilated, his nose flared, not to further infuriate the former soldier, “Ye-yes, daddy -” your throat tightened in fear, “my butt is sore.” Satisfied that you answered sweetly, Bucky relinquished his hand, kissing away your tears with feathery pecks, “Don’t cry, my angel.” His voice lowered softly.

His stubble tickled you, but you resisted a chuckle in your throat along with your untamed bile, he shushed you, “Don’t cry, baby. Daddy’s sorry he had to get loud.” Bucky cooed, talking to you like you were a toddler.

Your sobs quieted down, now simmering to hiccups, as he pulled you flushed against his broad chest. Even when he cradled you, his physicality reminded you, that you can’t escape.

Bucky is at least, two hundred pounds lean, built into massive biceps, and sculpted abs. You can’t fight him, nor her. Natasha’s physique is slender, but she’s toned.

Enquiped to defeat any enemy, a master in trickery and slealth, able to disappear within thin air like her husband ... many have fallen for sadly mistaken the Russian for beauty over brains ... don’t underestimate the former assassin. You already learned your lesson.

Your delicate fingers gripped his red Henley shirt, the cotton fiber bunching between your brown fingers, as you whimpered, your cheek squished against his frame.

Bucky sported a smug smirk on his stubbled jaw, glancing to his oldest best friend. A chuckle was breathed out of Steve’s nose, knowing the breaking down method was slowly progressing.

Steve knows that this is what Bucky, and Natasha needs in their life. Something innocent to protect, the couple hasn’t had a pure light in their life for years, so it’s understandable that for the first time they encountered you, they had to have you.

It was fate.

Indeed the meticulous harsh punishments was working. No matter how hard you tried to fight back, and resist the urges to succumb to their sexual pleasures, your mind was betraying you.

There has been moments of your compliance, calling everyone by their designated names. Natasha as your mommy, Bucky as your daddy, and the rest of the Avengers as your uncles and aunt. Letting your uncles and aunt baby you, feed you, play with you, and punish you if needed too.

Let’s just say, the punishments were just as equally barbarous. Wall-seats, harsh spanking, knees on raw rice, gas lighting, slight choking, knees resting on raw rice, electrical nipple clamps as your head will be dunked in water, that’s Bucky’s go-to if his patience runs dry.

And a few slaps here and there if you cuss everybody out.

Natasha’s favorite is clit cream, it causes severe itching on your pussy, you would rub your mound on any solid surface to relieve yourself to the point of your vagina being raw, and irritated.

How does the sadistic couple help the itching and burning stop? Take turns squirting their piss directly on your clit.

Shame and humiliation has become your constant demons.

Bucky’s red shirt had a strong but subtle smell of mint, and oak. You rubbed your nose into the shirt, it’s calming your frightened senses, as numerous flashbacks of pain came flooding your shattered mind.

“Awh my baby, loves holding her daddy.” Bucky spoke into your brushed curls, you didn’t realize you were practically clinging to Bucky like a baby kola. Bucky nuzzled his nose into your curls, his eyes closed, relishing in this rare moment.

Bucky’s strong biceps slithered around your petite waist, you involuntarily clutching your arms around his neck for support. His open palms calmly rubbed circles under your thighs, but close to your painful bruises.

You flinch at the close proximity of his fingertips grazing your abused flesh. It was his reminder of how quickly his temper can switch.

Don’t misbehave.

You prefer to seek his approval, to fall on his good graces. 

“D-daddy?” you crooked into his now tear-stained shirt, the dampened spots now a deeper shade of red, you sniffled, scared to look him in the eye, “Yes baby?” Bucky’s smirked.

“I wanna look at the windows more. The snowflakes are pretty.” You hated how your voice was trembling, and trailing into little space.

You’re conversing with Bucky as if you were a toddler. One discovery you stumbled on during this ordeal is that deep inside the crevasse of your mind, there’s a little girl.

Sub-space, or little space ... you knew you had it, which in turn, helped you adapt to your new environment from time to time. Catching yourself enjoying being pampered, no longer being burdened by of the problems that come with being an adult. No longer do you work, you hated your office job. You gracefully fall into a space of hazy clouds.

Bucky’s brows furrowed, a bit befuddled, as his eyes pleaded with Steve’s, who in return shook his head, no.

Steve brought this new found habit of yours up to Bucky and Natasha earlier, whenever you were punished, you hide away to look out the windows.

Steve realized that you were probably dissociating. That worried everybody, it means you were suffering from not accepting your new life, clinging onto your old one, and if you’re in pain, Bucky and Natasha are in pain.

You’re more than their little girl, you’re their missing third. Their companion, their angel, and even if you rebuke it, your best friends. Many occurrences, Nat and Bucky has confided to you about their dark pasts, revealing secrets not even their close team mates are aware of.

To gain your trust, and your sympathy, to show despite their cruel punishments, they are broken humans emotionally dependent on you. In any bond between lovers, that’s your best friend.

Out of love — tough love, but love nonetheless.

Bucky’s lip formed into a thin-line, “No, baby. Uncle Steve told me you do this a lot, you know he’s worried about you? So is everybody else, you haven’t even eaten since this morning” Bucky’s voice got stern, but it was contrast to his facial features softening. His brows now slanted in-ward, demonstrating his distress.

It’s the truth, you’re co-dependent on bullet-proof glass. You can observe the outside world. It helps you escape to your imaginary getaway. Whatever your heart desires, your brain creates unabashed scenarios of being surrounded by your family, and friends.

But more recently, you imagine poppy fields, sleeping in high-end stocks of flowers — but soon the demons roam in search of you, and the sky darkens.

“No, baby. No more windows. Ever again.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, you gasped. You were ready to beg, plead to stay on the floor just a little while longer, “Now it’s lunch time. I can hear my little angel’s tummy growling.” Bucky patted your belly gingerly, with no hesitation, he scooped you in his arms lifting you in the air.

Instinctively you locked your legs around his waist, your eyes never wavered from the frosty chilled windows. Your body began shaking, choking back pitiful sobs, as you ducked your head in Bucky’s neck.

“Maybe she needs a nap, she’s been crying all day.” Steve recalls hearing you sniffle since this morning, after getting a spanking. Bucky’s thumb rubbed circles into your shoulder blades, cooing you to settle down.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bucky kissed your scalp, “she’ll feel better when she wakes up.” As the two soldiers discussed about you as if you weren’t present, you just went limp, your legs dangling. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s inhuman strength, you would’ve fallen.

What’s the point in fighting anymore? Your body is worn, and your brain is fried. There’s no escape, for years you thought so highly of the Avengers, but you learned that they were not so righteous.

Steve noticed your eyes were dull, it’s blank. Steve subtly caressed your cheek, as he walked by Bucky’s side. A small lopsided smile curved at your lips, but Steve was still worried.

Finally reaching Bucky’s apartment, Steve helped open the door as Bucky was pre-occupied holding you, “Steve, can you wash her pacifier for me?” Steve nodded, taking the pacifier from Bucky.

As Steve reached the kitchenette, to wash the paci in the sink, Bucky went to your bedroom. A custom made state of the art bedroom, the walls covered in white wallpaper with multiple printed teddy bears. Fuzzy pink carpeting, stuffies galore spilling out of the bin, toys ranging from blocks, puzzles, coloring books, barbies -- you name it, they spoiled you.

Bucky cooed in your ear sweetly as he laid you down in your custom crib, the plush mattress welcomed your body. You whined a bit, a few tears falling, “Hush, baby, it’s okay. Uncle Stevie is bringing your paci.” Bucky caressed your arms, and face trying to cal, your nerves.

Your eyes were droopy, mental exhaustion overpowering you, but you were resisting sleep. You started rubbing your eyes, as if you were a restless toddler refusing naptime. 

Bucky and Natasha also has been popping sleeping pills, bladder weakening pills and birth control pills in your milk. To set your body on schedule, so you can learn to adapt using a diaper. Fall sleep at proper time during the day. 

Steve entered the bedroom, to see Bucky trying to stop you from your agitated state. “She’s fussy.”Steve’s tone was laced with concern, he quickly gave Bucky the paci, and you shut your mouth. “It’s okay, baby. It’s your paci, say ah.” Bucky was trying to persuade you, you hated that you were becoming dependent on it.

You pouted, Bucky sighed. Once again, he had to resort doing it the hard way. Bucky pinched your nose shut, preventing any oxygen, after a few seconds, you had no choice, but to open your mouth for air.

You gasped, and Bucky took advantage, quickly popping the paci in your mouth, shutting your mouth with his palms. You whined, as Bucky kissed your forehead. Bucky tucked you in, “I love you, angel.” With that Bucky and Steve started leaving the room, turning the light switch off, and closed the door behind them.

Darkness and silence looming over you, your eyes drooped shut, drifting into a dreamless slumber.

***

It’s been over an hour of naptime, and finally Natasha returned from training. She entered the apartment to see Bucky sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” He lifted his gaze up, and Nat saw tears in his eyes.

Nat dashed to her husband’s aid, sitting next to him on the couch. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Nat was growing increasingly worried, “Our angel hates me.” Bucky croaked, his voice was hoarse. Natasha pulled Bucky into her arms, Bucky sniffled as he sunk himself into her chest.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s still learning.”

“You didn’t see the fear in her eyes today. Her eyes looked dull, as if she wasn’t there. Even Steve saw it.” Bucky wailed in Nat’s arms. “It’s okay, she’s not broken. It’s not a quick procedure to get our angel. She will realize this is what’s good for her.”

“I just want her to be happy with us.”

“I know, Bucky. Me too.” Natasha kissed his head.

What Natasha didn’t realize was that you heard their conversation, as you awoke from your nap.

***

Was life with these people really that hard? They spoil you to no end. Yes, their choice of punishments aren’t ordeal, but after punishments they soothed you as if you were the most fragile treasure in the world. Can you learn to love them? Perhaps. Do you feel bad for them hurting? A little, and that’s what scares you.

You care, and it’s been bothering you.

For weeks, your hatred towards the Avengers has been simmering down. You did enjoy no longer having responsibilities, enjoying little space, you were slipping into the headspace more and more.

As thoughts were swirling in your mind like angry bees, the door opened, you quickly closed your eyes again. The light turned on, and their footsteps sounded quiet, not wanting to disturb your sleep, towards your massive crib.

Natasha and Bucky were hovering over you, watching you sleep, as if it’s their favorite view. So obsessed with you, vowing to kill anyone who will try to take you away from them.

Both Nat, and Bucky brought their fingers to your face, caressing your tear-stained cheeks. It was like this for a few moments, until they slowly shook you awake. Tenderly they coaxed you awake, your eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey pretty girl, time to wake up.” Natasha softly ruffled your curly ponytails. You don’t know what snapped in you, maybe your brain has given up, or maybe it’s the way these two are affectionately staring down at you.

Beyond the misty darkness that clouds their eyes, is love. Moments of good moments of playtime with them, or how they touched you giving you cummies, your body coming alive to their touch, or how your heart ached at their sadness flashed in your mind.

Maybe you do love them.

“Mommy. Daddy.” You mumbled against your paci, you made grabby hands outward to them. Natasha’s and Bucky’s eyes widened, their breaths hitched in their throats. At last, their little girl wants them - on her accord.

Natasha quickly took you out of the crib, holding you in her arms in an air tight hug. Bucky engulfed both of you in a bear hug.

At last.

***

It’s been a few weeks of you being the perfect angel, and quite frankly, you were happy. Stress of freedom slipped away, you were taken cared off. Adulthood was hard on you until Natasha and Bucky took you. It was unorthodox at first, slipping into your old apartment in the dead of the night, but it was worth it.

You were sitting on Bucky’s lap, as he sat on the couch watching cartoons with you. Your back against his chest, Bucky hugging you in his arms, your arm reaching behind his head, as your hand played with his hair. Bucky melts every-time you do that. You were sucking on your paci, and Natasha was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

The peaceful atmosphere was soon disrupted, as an urgent news broadcast flashed on the screen. You whined, and Bucky started looking for the remote to change the channel.

The broadcast flashed a picture of you, explaining that you were still declared missing, and your family was looking for you. Bucky’s whole body froze, as your silence was making him nervous. Natasha slowly peaked her head out from the kitchen.

You were unfazed, but you’re not dumb. You knew you had to reassure them, “Daddy, change the channel! I want cartoons.” You bounced a bit on his lap, to show your bratty impatience. Bucky picked up the remote, and put cartoon network on.

Both Nat’s, and Bucky’s heart fluttered, you didn’t care about your old life anymore. You took your paci out for a moment, and kissed your daddy. “I love you, daddy.” You put the paci back in your mouth, and watched the cartoons.

Bucky had tears in his eyes, and so did Natasha.

Their angel didn’t hate them, their angel loves them, and they love you.

Extra A/N: sorry that this was trash. This was beyond trash, I’m so sorry! This was rushed, and I’m bothered by it.