#and it's really annoying to be this annoyed

[shiiro-arts]

Day 4: END

[bibliomatcha]

𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𖹭.ᐟ

synopsis: reader is a host for a youtube interview show where the premise is a fake date with idols in a boba tea shop. (inspired by chicken shop date)

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 the opportunity to interview south korea’s most popular and attractive boyband, the saja boys!

a week before the interview, you did extensive research on the saturated boyband to avoid asking the same repetitive, and borderline shady, questions that most interviewers asked celebrities.

well, you tried to, anyway.

“what the hell…?” you rubbed your temple as you sat slouched and annoyed in front of your computer. the blue light not doing any favors for your tired, burning eyes.

surprisingly, any backgroud information about the saja boys’ past or even uprising is either vague or entirely nonexistent. it’s as if the boys didn’t even exist before their debut, like they just spawned out of thin air one day.

for three days, you pulled all-nighter after all-nighter trying to find reliable sources about each member’s past, only to find headcanons made by pride, shipping wars, and nasty rumors made up by anti-stans.

you let out a defeated groan.

at this point, i’m beginning to question if they’re industry plants…

you looked at your notebook on the side of your desk. what was supposed to be a page or two of good questions to ask the saja boys was instead filled with: where the fuck did ya’ll come from? are ya’ll aware you’re being shipped with each other? know anything about industry plants?, etc.

yup. a clear cry for help.

the only thing you really had going for you were questions about their music and lyricism, specifically on why all of their songs are about consumption.

there’ve been many theories by pride on why all of their songs involved consuming, that the lyrics could be hinting at something deeper. some fans even noted that if you just read the lyrics of each saja boy song without listening to the music, the tone changes from bubblegum to…ominous.

of course, there’s the other half of the pride that chalks it all up to the boys just being really into cunnilingus. so there’s that.

𖹭

meeting the saja boys for the first time was…an experience.

before you could even introduce yourself, mystery was in your face, barking at you like he was a stray dog whose tail you just stepped on. he got snatched back so fast by jinu, their leader.

“we’re so sorry!" he bent over 90 degrees in apology, forcing mystery to do the same. you could tell jinu had a vice grip on the back of mystery’s neck by the way his veins were protruding on his hand.

before you could recover from the shock, romance was then in your face, cooing at how pretty you were.

“never met a girl as pretty as you. what’s your name, angel?���

“i-"

once again, jinu snatched romance by the neck and gripped his head down in apology just like mystery before him.

“please excuse him!"

“ow! watch the hair!"

abby looked like he was about to act a fool, too, but froze when he caught sight of jinu side-eyeing him with a look that threatened a brutal murder.

𖹭

the interview itself was even more chaotic and it wasn’t entirely because of the saja boys.

your interviewing style wasn’t exactly conventional. celebrities are often treated like spectacles or descended deities by hosts’, but you ran your show by treating guests like old friends on a unserious date. in addition, you refused to invite or accept requests of celebs you didn’t like onto your show. you’ve even been cancelled by parasocial fans for deleting your interviews with celebs who were later exposed for being either bigots or criminals.

jinu was a gentlemen throughout the entire interview. during the bands introduction, he thanked you sincerely for having them on your show. he offered his full, undivided attention to you and praised you on how good your questions were. a skill you felt very prideful about.

you did notice something odd, however.

"as the composer and co-producer of the group, i'm curious about when your journey with music began? would you mind sharing, jinu?"

that's when you noticed it.

despite it being so subtle that you could miss it with a blink. you saw how his face twitched. how his eyes darkened as they glazed over for just a second. it may have been a trick of the light, but in that second, you swore you saw his eyes glow. the air of the room shifted, too.

it didn't help that the other boys suddenly fell quiet. it felt like you were being were being given a silent warning to not ask the wrong thing. but what was the wrong thing to ask?

you attempted to correct your mistake.

"i apologize if it's a sensitive topic, we'll cut this ou-"

"no." jinu snapped from his daze and swiftly switched back into his idol persona. "it's okay, i don't mind answering." he smiled, but it hardly reached his eyes.

the air in the room felt lighter again, though.

many pressing questions swirled in your mind, and your curiousty only grew when jinu's answer felt so vague and fabricated.

seriously, are these guys industry plants?

𖹭

romance was staring at you the entire time as if you were a painting in the louvre. you noticed that whenever you asked him question, he took a long sip of his milk tea while making prolonged eye contact. his aim was obviously to fluster you, so you decided to match his energy.

“you know, romance, out of all members, you’re the one i did the most research on?”

“oh?" he raised a brow, tilting his head on his palm. "you find me that interesting?"

“of course, it’s important to know things about my future husband.”

romance felt his cold heart take a screenshot. hosts' were usually flustered just by his presence alone, but none were ever so bold to flirt back. he turned his head to the side, covering his face with the back of his hand.

abby whistled. “damn, that was smooth."

𖹭

as usual during interviews, baby was polite and acting cute, but you noticed that there was an air of disinterest emitting from him. wanting to change that, you presented him with a twelve pack of the spiciest hot sauce in south korea and told him that if he could drink a whole boba tea version of the sauce in five minutes, he could keep the pack.

immediately, his demeanor switched from cute to daredevil.

you watched in equal horror and awe as he chugged the hellish boba down in a single minute. the boys cheered for him, minus jinu, who just looked done with everything.

afterwards, baby became engaged in the interview, even asking you questions about yourself and your show, all of which you happily answered.

𖹭

you don't know how it happened, but somehow, as you were interviewing the muscle of the group...you winded up sitting on abby's back as he did twenty sets of pushups while the rest of the boys were trying to break him as a challenge.

out all the boys, romance was oddly putting in the most effort to make abby fail.

if someone had told you that becoming a host would lead you to sitting on a handsome rich mans back, you would've laughed in their face. but, atlast, here you are doing just that.

"you know," abby grunted. "i've never held a girl like this before."

"are you saying i'm special?" you joked.

you shifted a bit when abby chuckled. you quickly adjusted yourself to avoid a nasty fall.

"don't worry, i won't drop you."

"good," you sat up straight. "this is the greatest moment of my whole career. i don't want it to be ruined."

you could've sworn you heard romance mutter something under his breath, but chose to ignore it.

as much fun as you were having though, you definitely felt anxiety building up.

should i keep this in the video? my sasaeng senses are tingling like crazy.

𖹭

you had a slight beef with mystery that you couldn’t shake off since your first interaction. when he was in the middle of answering your question, you felt the sudden urge to hiss at him for revenge...so you did. mystery, as well as the other boys, fell silent as he stared at you with his mouth agape.

“yea, how do you like it?" you smirked, starring him down with a challenging look in your eyes.

jinu side-eyed mystery with tight lips. “mystery, don-"

“GRRR!!!"

the last few minutes of the interview was you and mystery trying to assert dominance on the other with hisses, growls, barking, and evening roaring. this continued for awhile with most of it edited out of the video.

“uh, should we stop this.” abby cringed.

“nah, i wanna see who wins.” baby leaned forward on the table, drinking the last of his boba.

romance held a hand to his heart. “even when she’s growling, she’s angelic."

fuck my life. jinu facepalmed.

thank you for reading, ya'll ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾ it's been so much fun FINALLY writing for these dorks !! it feels so good to be a part of a new fandom with rich content aaaa !!!

[angelluvsrafe]

୨ৎ ── putting rafe in time out

- request a fic - masterlist -

“i’m just saying, i think i’m better at swimming that you” rafe shrugs, laying down on his front next to you, the sheets rustling beneath him.

“rafe, i don’t really care” you smile sarcastically at him and he continues, making you sigh.

“but i’m still a better swimmer. like im so good” he reiterates for what feels like the thousandth time. you groan and drop your head to your hands.

“i told you, i don’t care if you’re better than me. i don’t even know why we’re having this conversation…” you huff and look over at him. there’s a smug expression in his sun-kissed face.

“i’m still better than you…” he pokes your waist a few times just to annoy you even further.

“time out.” you snap and push his hands away from you. his face screws up and he scoffs.

“you can’t just send me to time out. i’m a grown-”

“one…” you start counting, you eyebrows raising.

“fine, jesus christ.” he sighs and gets up, sitting down on the floor in the corner.

you smile proudly as he props himself down on the floor, his head leaning back against the wall behind him. he has a soft scowl on his face.

“i’m only doing this because you’re scary when you’re mad…” he mumbles, his fingers picking at the floor. “and hot…” he adds quietly, a cheeky smirk tugging at his lips.

“you’re so stupid” you giggle, making his smile wider. he looks up to where you are on the bed and glares at you softly— there’s no real anger behind it.

“can i come out now?” he scowls, even though his eyes still display the slightest glimmer.

“no! you’ve barely been there for that long.” you giggle and he sighs, dropping his head to his hands. he groans loudly and rubs his face.

a few minutes pass by, your attention had been averted to the tv show you guys had been watching. rafe drops his hands down and groans.

“please, it’s so boring and lonely over here.” he mumbles, his grumpy voice muffled by his palms.

“fine, but only because you’re being cute…” you chuckle and lay down, he immediately stands up and walks over to the bed. he lays down on top of you and peppers kisses all over your face.

“i missed you…” he murmurs, his smile pressing against your sternum as he buries his face in your chest.

“drama queen…”

[squish--squash]

sorry op but that is a completely garbage take and I pity your mind for having thought of that incredibly chronically online opinion

if you have a fic less than 1k words and a plethora of tags or a fic that's extra long with almost 0 tags I just want you to know you are so awesome and sexy and to keep it up because there are no rules to have many tags a fic "needs"

Maybe this is a hot take but the number of tags on your ao3 fic should be proportional to the fic’s length

[2cupids]

riding bf!toji’s thigh in the store’s dressing room.

contains. f!reader, thigh riding, semi public, reader is called pretty/pretty girl, written with a chubby!reader in mind <3 .. mdni (17+).

toji did not plan on spending his thursday like this, and neither does he enjoy it.

you insisted on him coming along to help you buy an outfit for a fourth of july party your friend had invited you to. so he agreed—albeit reluctantly—to let you drag him around. he can never tell your cute ass “no,” even when he desperately wants to.

this unwelcomed little mall trip didn’t come without him still letting his feelings be known though. his usual scowl is deeper, more pronounced, and his eyes narrow whenever you take too long browsing around in different stores.

despite all that, the trip hasn’t been a complete waste in his eyes. he gets to watch you twirl around and show him every piece of clothing you try on, from little denim shorts to tiny skirts as you ask him his opinion on each, to which he gives a dry, one word response.

you could say toji’s been well behaved today for a guy who’s usually handsy with you. that comes to an end when he finally snaps the moment you emerge in a tight, low cut top that shows plenty of cleavage, asking him whether or not the top “makes your boobs look big.”

a lazy grin pulls at the corners of his mouth and he scoffs, slowly rising to his feet, large hands immediately on your waist as he walks you back into the dressing room. a poor girl working in the store folding clothes nearby witnesses the scene and looks horrified. out of the corner of his eye he sees the employee, but he could care less who sees. or whoever hears what he’s got planned for you for that matter.

“makes your tits look fuckin’ great if that’s what you’re askin’.” toji drawls, closing the door behind him and moving to take a seat on the bench, which looks comically small under his large, muscular figure.

you huff out a laugh and cross your arms. “you’re so annoying, that’s not what i asked. i mean.. don’t you think they make my boobs look even bigger?”

toji rolls his eyes, spreading his legs slightly as he continues eyeing you. “i really don’t give a fuck if it does… not like it’s a bad thing anyways.” he says, tilting his head slightly and his smirk returns. “all i know is you still look damn sexy.”

trying to deflect his comment, you end up giving him a playful glare before muttering a quiet, “whatever.” your fingers hook underneath the hem of the shirt to take it off when toji’s calloused hand suddenly reaches for your wrist, stopping you.

“don’t cha think i deserve something, doll? ya know, it’s been torture watching you try on all those different outfits for me.” toji says quiet enough that it's almost a whisper as he tugs you forward to stand in between his legs.

you squint, already knowing he was going to pull some shit like this the moment he got that look in his eye and pushed you back into the changing room. you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your fingers play with the dark strands at the nape of his neck. “mm, not right now. keep it in your pants ‘til we get back home. or least back to the car, toj.”

that earns you a low chuckle, and before you even have time to react, you’re being manhandled as if you weigh nothing and you find yourself straddling one of toji’s thick thighs, his hands move up from your hips, over the softness of your belly, and up to squeeze your breasts, thumbs finding your nipples through the material of the top. “don’t act like you don’t want this too, pretty.” he whispers, lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

you shiver, biting your lower lip, careful not to let a sound slip out. “shut up. there are people around, and–”

toji quickly shuts you up, flexing his thigh underneath you, fingers tweaking your hardening nipples. “didn’t hear ya, baby. say it again?” he smiles.

and like a dummy, you open your mouth again to protest. a silly mistake. his hands snake down to grip your hips to move your body, making you grind down on him. he keeps moving you against him until you finally give in and start moving your hips on your own, whimpers and gasps tumbling from your lips as you ride his thigh.

toji smirks, satisfaction crossing his sharp features. soft locks of hair tickle your skin when he drops his head down to your neck, breath fanning across your skin. “just realized the people outside are getting a free show. a pretty girl making even prettier sounds… next time i’ll charge the bastards.” he laughs and begins pressing hot kisses along your throat.

one hand flies up to cover your mouth, mortified at the thought of strangers hearing you, but toji is a menace. so when he hears your noises get quieter as you attempt to muffle them, he brings his hand down against your backside. the sound of his palm coming down hard against your ass echos throughout the entirety of the dressing room area and a moan accidentally slips out.

toji loves it.

loves seeing you in ways like this and knowing he can always manipulate the situation in his favor. he pulls back, letting his eyes trail over your body and to the growing wet stain on his jeans. his eyes darken every time your breath hitches slightly when your clit rubs against the rough material of his pants through your thin panties and shorts just right.

and he just drinks it all in, his dick twitching and straining in his pants from the sights and sounds. “look at you..”, he mumbles. “look what you do to me.”

the hand covering your mouth is pulled from your face as he guides it over his chest, then down lower until it rests over his dick. you gasp softly and rub him over his jeans, making him swallow down a groan. “shit. keep doing that and i’ll fuck you right here, right now.”

a shaky laugh escapes you and you take your hand off, placing it on his other shoulder for more stability. soon, your hips start to move more frantically against his thigh as you feel yourself starting to get close. toji assists by flexing his thigh more and continuing to run his hands over your soft, full curves. you rest your head in the crook of his neck, breathy sounds spilling from your mouth. your fingers tighten around his shoulders as he whispers filthy things in your ear until a sweet, strangled sound of pleasure slips past your lips.

you slouch against toji’s body, dazed, embarrassed, but most importantly, satisfied. he gives you after a moment to catch your breath and then he helps you out of the top, leaving you alone to go pay for it. he proudly steps out of the room with his head held high, large wet spot on his jeans and all. when you finally muster up the courage to leave, you’re the complete opposite of your boyfriend, your head is hung low to avoid any eyes.

toji’s waiting outside the store for you and it’s only then that you see just how big a mess you made. you freeze, body heating up with embarrassment all over again before you bring your eyes up to meet his in disbelief. “you have to be kidding. don’t tell me you’re keeping those on? walking around like that?!”

toji just raises a brow and grins. “why wouldn’t i? there’s nothing to be ashamed of. this is a trophy, baby.” he says, almost cockily.

he pulls out a pair of sweatpants from the bag and hands them to you. “bought those for you though, figured you’d want some more pants to wear.” then he leans down to whisper, voice sickly sweet. “didn’t buy you any more panties, so just give those ruined ones to me. i’ll keep ‘em safe. promise.”

[bethanydelleman]

I should just mute the notes on some of my posts about historical women/arranged marriage because the lack reading comprehension is killing me, but I just wish people would take like 10 seconds to consider that not every single woman in the past constantly felt the weight of overbearing oppression. Like, even serfs would sing and hold festivals and have happy moments in their lives. Or to put it in a modern context, we currently suffer under the oppression of late stage capitalism but it's not like most of us think about it every second of every day. As much as we may know the system is horrible, people still celebrate interviews and job offers; lots of people enjoy their jobs or at least they think their job is just fine and they don't dwell on it much. The idea that every woman in the past before getting married would go on some huge sad soliloquy about her oppression feels equivalent to every teenager today mourning that they need to join The System when they get their first minimum wage job. And you know that most adults would be rolling their eyes and thinking, "Ug, young people, they just need to grow up and accept reality." I think more teenagers just anticipate what they can buy with their new wages, kind of how a woman in the past getting married might have focused on the exciting aspects of marriage. Most of us just aren't revolutionary, most of us just want to live our lives and focus on the good parts; do what we can to smooth over the bad, ya know? Anyway...

[jarlskona-evilyoyo]

Also a plus to shipping Polytrix is that you get so many versions of having a ship with height differences because they’re all noticeably different heights — which I love by the way.

Zoey getting annoyed that she’s gotta keep getting on her tip toes to kiss Mira so she tries wearing thick boots. She’s then the same height as Rumi, which weirds her out and also makes her sad because she likes being shorter— just not THAT short

Rumi realizes it’s always her or Zoey in the middle of the cuddle line and she’s like ‘oh my god we have to snuggle Mira RIGHT NOW’ Mira thinks they’re dorks because they snuggle like that because 1) Rumi really likes to be in the middle and 2) because Zoey is the smallest so they can all touch each other better. Mira also reminds them that she has a fuck ton of hair that she doesn’t put up so it’s going to get into someone’s face but they’re committed to it by then.

(She thinks it’s adorable and totally almost cries about it)

Mira and Zoey get to do that meme where Mira has Zoey pinned to the wall like a foot off the ground

Rumi has two girlfriends that are the perfect size to make her into a happy snuggled sandwich. Frequently hugs Zoey from behind to ‘trap’ her until Mira comes over to join in.

[smoolpotaeto]

Manager Crashout

Pairing: Saja Boys x Manager!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed with the amount of work you had to do in addition to the boys' constant chaos? Total crashout

**Doesn't exactly follow the movie timeline

[smoolpotaeto] Main Masterlist

"Abby, stop taking pictures of yourself every 5 seconds and help out in here!"

"Stop flirting and get back to work, Romance!"

"Mystery! Come back here!"

"Can you please stop complaining and just follow my instructions, Baby."

"Jinu! Stop smirking and manage your members!"

It was a nonstop chaos in the Saja Boys' studio room as the five were practicing their dance— or well, supposed to be practicing their dance. The four won't even listen to you properly, and their leader didn't even think of lending a hand to discipline them. Jinu was just there, staring at the chaos and you shouting at all of them to get back on track.

The boys had a show they were supposed to be in tomorrow after their 'debut' weeks ago at a street where they had performed their hit song Soda Pop. And you, drawn in by their energy and their undeniable good looks, applied to be the newly founded boy band's manager. Seeing that the five needed someone human to do most of the work for them and act as a "front," they didn't think much of getting you.

So now we're here—

You, an overworked manager who handles their PR, scheduling, idol actvities, as well looking for producers, lyricists, and the likes for their next new song, all the while handling the chaos that the five ensues. It was pretty much an everyday occurrence— Abby's narcissism, Romance's flirting, Mystery suddenly disappearing when curiosity gets the best of him, Baby being a literally man-baby, and Jinu relishing in the chaos.

Normally, it would be fine. While it's only been a few weeks, you've grown quite attached to them. They were nice when they wanted to, and they took good care of you despite their annoying attitude.

However, things have been real hectic lately. You didn't expect how huge the boys would get in such a short amount of time, and now they're being requested left and right in a lot of shows. Naturally, that meant receiving and sending phone calls and emails continuously. Aside from that, it also meant managing the boys' everyday schedules. To say that you were tired is an understatement— you already felt like a walking corpse at this point.

"Guys, please," You groaned, pleading, "Just practice your damn song. You'll be in front of a lot of people tomorrow, and you can't mess up unless you want to get your image thrown off." Your words fell on deaf ears, the five continuing to do their own thing.

It's been like that for the past hour or two— you weren't even sure at this point. What you were sure of, however, was that your anger was steadily rising, and you didn't know how long you can keep it at bay.

Without warning, your phone rang. Displayed on the screen was the name of one of the producers of the show for tomorrow. "Ah fuck, I completely forgot..." With a sigh, you started walking out of the room to answer the call, but not without calling to the boys first. "You guys better be doing something productive when I get back."

...

The call took longer than expected. The producer really wanted everything noted down and clean down to the smallest detail, and that usually meant a lot of reassurance and planning. "Well, time to check to see how they're doing."

The boys are not in fact, doing something productive when you got back. Instead, Abby and Baby were now running around the studio, Mystery was sleeping, Romance is now laughing at Abby and Baby, and Jinu was scrolling on his phone...?— where did get that?

"Oi! Didn't I tell you to—"

You didn't even get to finish what you were saying when Abby crashed into one of the studio lights, toppling and destroying it rendering the light useless.

The studio went into complete silence, and you stood there stunned. Did they really just destroy one of the studio lights? One that you worked so hard on to secure at a good price? One that costed a bit too much compared to other expenses? One that has not even been there for at least a week?

"What. The. HELL?!"

The four turned their heads towards you, and Mystery who was sleeping was now awake. "Do you know how much that thing costs?! How much effort I put in to find you guys nice lights to use for the studio room? Do you have any idea how tiring it has been for the previous days?!"

Sensing that they were about to get in trouble, Jinu quickly stood up from his position and walked towards you, "Hey, (Y/N), I'm sure the two didn't mean to destroy the lights. How about we—" The demon quickly shut up by the intensity of your glare.

"And you!" You pointed at Jinu. "M-me?" "No, it's the wall behind you— of course you! Who else is there, huh?!" The boy gulped at your tone, "How many times have I told you to watch over them? To discipline them? Tell them to get back on track? Make sure that they don't cause any problem?"

You were on a rant at this point. All the anger and tiredness you were trying to keep bottled up for the past days had now come undone.

"Don't you see how much I've been working and handling for you guys? I can't even sleep properly at night knowing that everything has to be perfect so that you guys can keep charting and be on shows. All I ever asked from you guys was to listen to me— get back to practice, behave yourselves, act like fucking adults, but what do I get in return? Nothing! Not even a single thank you!"

Tears were now brimming on your eyes, and while you felt embarrassed from suddenly lashing out, you didn't care at this point. You were tired, and no amount of patience can keep up with this amount of work. "(Y/N)—"

"No. Don't get started right now.... You know what? I'm done. Fuck this. I'm leaving." Without missing a beat, you placed down your Manager ID and clipboard and all related things to being their manager.

Abby was the first to recover from the shock. There was no way you were actually leaving now right?

"(Y/N), hey, wait." With a scowl and tears on your face, you faced Abby. "What?" "I know we messed up, but you can't be serious about leaving us, right?"

With a scoff, you turned on your heel. "Yeah... goodluck with finding a manager that can stand all of you."

The boys stared at the door that you just left in. "We fucked up big time didn't we?" "Yep..."

[ssahotchnerr]

Hey doll, hope you're doing good !!

Since you mentioned jealous Aaron, may I request maybe them being away on a case and a suspect who's totally innocent makes things difficult on purpose to get to see n talk more with reader. Aaron could be seeing right through him while she could be oblivious to what is going on since she's so in loveeeee with A and can't seems to even imagine being with someone else LOL ! 🤍

too close for comfort

omg omg OMG cw; liaison fem!reader, established relationship, suspect being a creep, protective/jealous aaron 😵‍💫❤️‍🔥 wc; 1.2k

"I'm not talking."

Dave huffed at the suspect's remark, sharing a quick, irritated glance with Aaron. "You don't need to make this any harder than it needs to be. You help us, we can let the courts know you cooperated."

"I'm not talking to you." He corrected with a sneer, his lips lifting into a sickening smile. "How about that pretty girl I saw on my way in?"

You - He hadn't needed to clarify, Aaron knew immediately.

As they entered the precinct not even an hour ago, you had been amongst the few people in the bullpen; your eyes had lifted at the intrusion, mid-conversation with Reid. And as Aaron walked past you, towards interrogation with the suspect in tow, you had piqued his interest immediately.

While your focus had already shifted elsewhere, he studied you - slowing down his pace. His gaze moved deliberately over your figure, taking its time - and lingering just a moment longer on your behind. Aaron shoved him ahead, harshly enough for the guy's gaze to snap forward to ensure he wouldn't collide with anything.

"No." His eyebrows tightened with quiet anger.

"C'mon." The suspect laughed at Aaron's heightening glare, evidently pleased with the reaction. "You wanna talk about being cooperative? You help me, I help you. Simple as that. I don't think it's that big of a request."

Maintaining a neutral tone, aware that showing any emotion would only give him an opening, he stated, "She's unavailable."

"Something tells me you can change that."

Aaron shoved back from the table, the chair screeching against the floor, hastily retreating with Dave following in his footsteps. Once outside the room - the door shut behind them - Dave opened his mouth to speak-

"Absolutely not."

"She could get him talking, Aaron." Dave pressed, before an exasperated breath left him. "Look, you and I know what he's trying to do."

"Exactly." He shook his head once, utterly annoyed as his jaw tightened. The very last thing he wanted was to surrender you over, playing directly into the suspect's game.

But he also knew in his capacity as Unit Chief, that this was in the best interest of the case.

"We're running out of time here," Dave insisted. "We have a victim out there who could still be alive. This- She could be our only chance."

-

"If you feel unsafe, don't hesitate to put a stop to this whole thing. I'll be in there with you, Rossi and Morgan will be watching, and not to mention, he's cuffed to the table." Aaron instructed, his voice leaving him expertly poised; still, he seethed beneath his carefully crafted exterior. "He'll have no access to you."

You nodded along to his words, entering the viewing room as Aaron held the door open for you. The large window offered an unfiltered view into the room, exposing the suspect in full. He lounged in the metal chair; his posture was almost lazy, but there was a calculated stillness to it. As if he had nothing to hide - as if he had the BAU in the palm of his hand.

Aaron had said the suspect wanted to speak to you specifically, although you were unsure why. You were a liaison, not a profiler; you didn’t do interrogations. "So I'm just asking him questions?"

He nodded, "get him talking. Talk about his past, the victims, the MO. Anything you can get him to reveal can help us."

"Easy enough." As your fingers went to brush his arm, you caught the stiffness in his jaw. Your hand paused midair, "Wait, you're really not okay with this."

"I don't even want to consider what kind of sick ideas he's entertaining." Aaron spoke sharply, his voice tight with restrained frustration. "The fact that he's even going to be near you is enough to make my blood boil."

"I'm sure there won't be any." There was a subtle crease at your nose, a flicker of disbelief in your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he dropped his hardened front for a moment, compassion taking its place. "He's had his mind on you since we set foot in here. You didn't see the way he...." He exhaled deeply, quickly composing himself. "He's objectifying you, and I hate to be the one to enable it."

There was a brief shift in your features - uncertainty, maybe even unease. "Why?"

"Why wouldn't he." His voice fell on the flat side, his eyes analyzing you also, only his gaze went further than your appearance. Your kind heart, determination, compassion. You were easily anyone's dream.

Your voice grabbed him from his thoughts, "Do I let him?"

"Hm?"

Hesitating, you glanced off to the side before meeting his gaze. Your eyes were gentle, quietly seeking his approval. "Should I play into it?"

A surge of jealousy ignited within him, warmth spreading rapidly through his veins. Would it be beneficial? Yes. Would it get the suspect talking? Absolutely yes. Yet watching you flirt with someone else…

Aaron's lips drew into a thin line, and you took note: Yes, but be cautious. Please. "You can do whatever you're comfortable with."

"And you'll be with me?"

He gave a single nod, his eyes holding the weight of his promise.

"Then everything will be fine." You offered him a small smile, more so comforting him than yourself. You loosened his tie, knotted tightly at his neck - breathe. "It'll be over before you know it."

He reached for the door handle, only to be halted by your firm grip. One more reassurance was in order.

"I love you."

A look of triumph crossed the suspect's face when you finally entered - a sinister grin spreading as he straightened up in his chair. The sight sent a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on your arm to stand on end.

"About time."

You took your seat calmly, intent on staying composed despite him.

However, his overconfident display faded once Aaron sat beside you. You stole a look at him; the softness he had displayed moments ago long gone, he was furious. You could practically feel the aggravated heat radiating off his body.

Though you felt for him, you wouldn't deny that it caused your heart to flutter. His behavior was a result of yourself - the deep, instinctive urge to protect.

"I thought I said I wanted to speak to her alone."

"Not happening."

The suspect slouched back against his chair. "Then I have nothing to say."

"It's fine." You spoke up, mediating between the two. Your hand searched for Aaron's underneath the table, finding his clenched fist. You quickly slipped your hand inside it instead, causing it to soften. A firm squeeze, "It's okay."

"Thanks darlin', I knew I could count on you." He flashed Aaron a smug look.

Following a tense standoff - a silent warning not to make a move -Aaron rose to his feet. However he didn't leave, he only created some distance; standing next to the door with his arms crossed firmly against his chest.

If the suspect moved a centimeter towards you, simply looked at you the wrong way - he'd be at your rescue before you could blink.

"This still isn't what I-"

Aaron was finished with the games. His eyes were cold, his jaw set and leaving no room for negotiation. "Take it or leave it."

[yeokii]

‎‎୧ 𝖻𝖺𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗀 / ‎ 𓊔‎ ‎ ‎‎ ❨ 成訓 ❩ . ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎🎧 JELLYOUS

𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗇 : [ 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗃𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗌 ] ── your boyfriend reminded you who he belonged to when you got jealous ᐢ..ᐢ 모두에게 이런 거? / 𝐢𝐢. 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎𝑏𝑜𝑦, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 ──── wait, 모두에게 이런 거? hey, 알고 싶어지는 걸 내일로 back off 내일 일은 내일의 내게 맡겨 . 🥝

•⠀📁 ──𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗌. ( bfhoon&fmr ) 𓈒 ◌ 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 fluff ( cuties ) ◞  2OO2⠀╱ 8hun : 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇��𝗇𝗀𝗌 ‧ jealousy, kissing ⬭ ⋆ ˊ❀◜ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍ˋ. ── liek&reblog! 𝟤𝟢'𝖲𝖱𝖮𝖮𝖬

🐰 : me after making sunghoon an absolute loser and simp

you weren't usually the jealous type. you kept telling that to yourself. you knew your boyfriend was hot, many people looking at him like eye candy. though you knew at the end of the day, it was you who he came to. it was you who he kissed like there was no tomorrow.

and you were fine with that. let them stare all they want. it just made you feel proud. you were fine. you were alright. but why did your blood boil when you saw a girl your age getting too close to sunghoon for your liking?

you rolled your eyes at the way her hand brushed with his bicep. her fake laughs crawled under your skin. you were sure your entire face was red and steam was coming out your ears.

sunghoon was too friendly for his own good sometimes. your eye twitched at the way he was oblivious to the fact that she was blatantly hitting on him.

you were pouting.

before you could give her a piece of your mind, your boyfriend called you over to come and meet them. “baby! over here!” he yelled with the biggest grin on his face─ like he just saw an angel descend from heaven.

you walked over with the fakest smile you could plaster on as you glanced over at the girl, and her smile faltered.

you internally snorted as you reached sunghoon's side, as he slid his arm around your waist. “i missed you,” he muttered. “this is my girlfriend y/n, the one i was telling you about.”

oh, so that's why he was smiling so much talking to her. he was blabbering about you. you also forgot to mention one thing: your boyfriend was the biggest simp ever.

he was head over heels for you, swearing he heard wedding bells when he first met you. he'd be at your side wherever you went─ he'd even follow you to the bathroom (which he has, multiple times).

“oh─ hello,” she said, flustered and red. “you didn't tell me how pretty she was.” she laughed nervously.

“i did, i'm pretty sure that's one of the first few things i said.” sunghoon's grip tightened on you. “she's really a sight for sore eyes,” he said, looking at you.

now you were pouting and blushing.

you muttered a small “stop” to him as he giggled, gushing over his girlfriend right in front of her. ohmygosh, this loser.

“i should get going now, it was nice meeting you both,” the girl said, leaving, annoyed.

you were relieved she escaped before you could get to her.

sunghoon turned you to him, putting both his hands around your waist and pulling you close. “why does my baby look so sad? what happened?” he said, scanning your face as he tucked a hair strand behind your ear.

“nothing.”

“then what's with that cute pout, pretty?” he smiled. you looked undeniably cute right now. too cute for him to resist slipping a quick kiss in front of everyone.

“i'm not pouting,” you muttered. “whatever, it's no big deal.”

“it is a big deal. my girlfriend's upset and i need to help her. tell me what you want me to do, hmm?” he said, leaning down to see at least a slight shift in your eyes.

“you should stop being so friendly.” you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

sunghoon tilted his head to the side. “friendly?” he blinked.

“no way.” a smile found its way to sunghoon's face. “you're jealous.”

“i'm not,” you insisted, yet your face was still a bit red.

“pretty, she was just asking me about the curriculum.”

“well, does she need to touch your bicep for that?” your eyes darted to his, your eyebrows furrowing.

sunghoon laughed─ he was actually laughing. while you were about to pop your head off, he found this amusing.

“stop laughing. this isn't funny.”

“baby, i was talking about you half the time. you know they could never have a chance.” he leaned in. he was so close. too close.

“they couldn't.” you felt his breath on your cheeks. “because i only want you.”

he kissed your cheek.

“only you get all my hoodies.” he pressed a kiss to your other cheek. “only you get to cuddle me.” he kissed your nose. “my goodnight calls.” kiss. “my gym pics.” another kiss. “my love.”

he was kissing you all over, not sparing one inch of your skin. you giggled at his antics as your face was filled with sunghoon's adoring kisses.

“mm, hoonie! i get it,” you said, stopping him.

“i'll make you understand a thousand times again. i only want you. at the end of the day, at the beginning, at the middle, i'm always yours,” he said, softer this time. more intimate. closer.

he leaned in for a slow and gentle kiss, taking his time. like he wants to prove to you that his lips belong to yours.

he looked at you like you were his moon, his sun and his world. maybe you wanted to get jealous again─ just so he could prove again and again that he'd choose you always.

tags. @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @voikiraz @miumura @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @naespas @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey @firstclassjaylee @rikislove @hynjinnnnnnnn

⠀⠀𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗂 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽. do not copy, repost or translate my works

[lilyandpad]

I feel like Regulus’s realization to having feelings for James would be something akin to, “He has lovely eyes, and he’s so compassionate. It makes him very attractive…oh no. No. MERLIN, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! NO!”

And James’s would be along the lines of, “I love how he always challenges me and his face when he gets frustrated or annoyed. He’s so pretty.” A long pause from his train of thought before he thinks, “Oh, Sirius is going to murder me-“

But really, it’s Barty he has to look out for when their relationship gets dragged out into the light.

[lily-bisque]

𝒹oin' 𝓉ime 𓍯𓂃 𝓈ummer 𝒷ash 𝒸ollab 🐚

your dream destination on the coast of the amalfi waters in italy awaits 𓂃 ོ☼𓂃

teaser ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹

pairing: assistantfem!reader x childhoodfriend/prostitute!toji

synopsis: sparkling turquoise waters, hidden coves, and limoncello for days in the illustrious city on the amalfi coast was just how you wanted to start your work-trip—now instead struggling to find a room for the night thanks to your arrogant boss leaving you to fend for yourself. yet your hopes begin to float just above the surface when your fate crashes with your old childhood neighbor with a questionable past but an annoyingly dashing charm beneath the sun-kissed shore glow. it really is a small world after all.

contents: tba, nothing in this teaser!

a/n: this oneshot is part of my summer bash collab that i have been lucky enough to get sixteen other writers on board with! was far too excited writing this, so here's a little snippet. comment to be tagged on the oneshot once it's posted <3

🏷️ ; @nialovessatoru @ri-sa20 @angel-vee-writes @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @sypnasis @fanficreaders-stuff @inzayneforaj @heh123321 @zzz-auds

“You know, the whole ‘macho mystery man’ look is getting old,” you deadpanned with finger quotes, despite him not being able to see it. “I’ve literally seen you trip over your own feet and fling your arms at nothing.”

“Well, thankfully I’ll only have to indulge in your presence for the evening since I’m kicking you out at dawn,” he retorted, kicking the door open after shoving his key into the keyhole.

“Yeah yeah I’ll get out of your hair—.” You cut yourself off when you got a view of the room. Don’t get it wrong here, the room was fucking gorgeous.

The issue? There was a singular bed—no connecting door to another room or anything.

What the hell were you expecting?

You huffed a laugh, swiveling your head to your childhood friend. “So I’m guessing this is where I’m staying and you’ve got another room?”

He looked at you over his shoulder as he tossed your bag onto the mussed mattress, where you can only assume he slept in the night before. “Fuck are you talking about? There’s a pullout couch.”

You laughed incredulously at him, not even caring that you could get a noise complaint at this hour. “...Seriously?”

He turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head. “Yeah. Wouldn’t even be our first time sharing a room, anyway.”

You twitched at that, your heart stalling in your chest for a moment as words died on your tongue. Give it to Toji for making things weird.

“Uhm. Just… give me a second.”

You hurried out of the room, shuffling down the winding steps and stopping right before the jaded receptionist at the front, heart roaring in your ears. “Are you guys fully booked for the night?”

She had her legs and arms crossed, peering up at you whilst smacking her gum, an annoyed and tired expression coloring her. She leaned over the computer and clicked a few things out of your view. “We’ve got one room left.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders slump. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

She gave you a feigned smile. “It’s our presidential suite, however. It requires proof of high status such as dignitaries or heads of states. Otherwise, we keep it open.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at that. “What? Who the hell cares who I am if I’m a paying customer?”

She shrugged, panning her screen towards you. “Well, can you afford it?”

Your gaze followed the screen, squinting against the harsh light, when you made out the multiple zero’s coming after the euro symbol, your maw falling slack.

The walk back to Toji’s suite was a dreadful one, being told that every other hotel in a thirty mile radius was also booked out, dragging your feet and pushing the door open with your head downcast.

The television was now droning on with some static-y hotel-like cable sitcom that aired after hours, enough to make you shiver.

Your bags were in the same place Toji had left them, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Your eyebrows drew in as your head turned on a swivel, peeking into the bathroom and the closet warily, as if he were waiting to jump out and catch you off guard like a deer in headlights, but no.

“Oi. Get in here,” you heard his voice bellow past the ajar balcony door.

Your head cocked curiously, following the sound out onto the balcony, the white drapes flitting in the warm night breeze. Peering over the edge, you could see Toji just one floor down, veiny forearms and broad shoulders draped over the edge of some hot tub, the roman-style pool beside it empty.

It was a beautiful set-up, the area littered with potted plants and shrubbery from poppies to sunflowers to roses, giving it a bright glow even in the night.

Toji was sporting black swim trousers, shirtless as the water pooled around his massive pecs. Your thighs subconsciously rubbed against each other at the drooling sight, before you tore your gaze to match his, just the slightest bit curious how on Earth he made it down there without you noticing.

You could imagine him scaling the balcony wall, hopping down barefoot all primal-like.

Hugging yourself, you leaned down to yell-whisper, “Uh, no thanks. I think I’ll just get some sleep.”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes dancing across you. “Couldn’t get a room, huh?”

You shook your head in defeat.

“Alright, well don’t let your first night in La Dolce Vita go to waste just because you’re a little scared of talking to me,” he teased with an accusatory tone, adjusting his manspread. 

You rolled your eyes at his gall, ready to bite back. “I’m not scared of you, Fushiguro.”

“Prove it, bird.” He called out immediately, voice husky and resonating through the charged air.

You clicked your tongue, narrowing your eyes, the slightest bit pissed that Toji was unbelievably talented at riling you up. He knew you far too well, even after all this time.

“Give me five minutes.”

You turned on your heel, heading back into the room and parsing through your bag for your swim trunks.

You’d brought two.

One that you could wear around your boss and her boyfriend without feeling unprofessional—a basic white one piece with a few frills, modest enough. The second, however, was a black strappy two-piece that quite literally left nothing to imagination.

You’d packed the latter in case you’d had a night to yourself and would be able to possibly hook up with someone fun you’d come across, a bit of a reach of your expectations for the weekend but you always came prepared nonetheless.

That’s not what you were planning here though, with Toji—no way in hell, that was nowhere near the front of your mind… ahem.

You simply wanted to get back at the audacious man. Let him know if he could make you uncomfortable, you had no issue doing the same to him.

You grabbed a lotus claw clip and tied your hair up, slipping into the suit and adjusting it so that your cleavage was on full view before slipping your sandals on and padding quickly down.

[cressidagrey]

The Old Wolves

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Part of the The mysterious Mrs. Piastri Series.

Summary:  Some other people have Thoughts™

Warnings and Notes:As requested by @leodette

Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

Group Chat: The Old Wolves 🐺🐺🐺

(Members: Mark Webber, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, David Coulthard)

Nico Rosberg: ⚠️ hello? ⚠️ excuse me??? ⚠️ MARK ALAN WEBBER YOU ARE SUMMONED

Sebastian Vettel: Just to confirm, I didn’t hallucinate that, right? Oscar Piastri has a wife. A whole wife.

David Coulthard: Excuse me?? Wife as in legally married? Not “my partner” or “my girlfriend” but wife???

Fernando Alonso:married. married-married. like vows and paperwork and tax returns

Jenson Button: I thought it was a joke. I laughed. I pointed.

THEN OSCAR WAS LIKE “She’s amazing. 10/10. Would always marry her again.”

David Coulthard: Was this a soft launch? Or a slap across the face with a marriage license?

Fernando Alonso: Lando spewed water. 

David Coulthard:I thought the fanstage was a prank at first. He said “my wife” so casually I thought he meant someone else’s wife

Mark Webber: ...It wasn’t that big a deal.

Nico Rosberg: HE SAID “MY WIFE.” MARK. MY WIFE.

David Coulthard: Mark. Buddy. Friend. When were you planning to mention that your golden boy is MARRIED?

Sebastian Vettel: Mark. Mark. Be honest. Did you officiate the wedding?

Mark Webber: 🙄 No. I didn’t officiate anything. And yes, he’s married. Has been for a while.

Nico Rosberg: FOR A WHILE????

Fernando Alonso: define “a while”

Mark Webber: Look, they didn’t want it public. It’s not like he gave me permission to plaster it across the paddock, alright?? It’s private.They wanted it that way. And I respect that.

Jenson Button: You knew he was married for HOW LONG???

Mark Webber: Since 2019.  They got married straight after graduation. Quietly. No press. No announcements.

Kimi Räikkönen: good wedding announcements are annoying

Nico Rosberg: FIVE. YEARS???

Sebastian Vettel: That’s not the point, Kimi. The point is that Mark has been sitting on a whole secret Piastri wife like it’s casual trivia

David Coulthard: No wonder the kid’s so composed. He was married at an age when the rest of us were still figuring out how to microwave spaghetti.

Fernando Alonso: He met her when they were teenagers, didn’t he?

Mark Webber: Yeah. High school sweethearts. She's brilliant. Calmer than Oscar, if you can believe it.

David Coulthard:

You let us all go on thinking he was some shy little rookie with no game

Turns out he’s been married since 2019?? He wasn’t even in bloody F3!

Nico Rosberg: I want to say I’m shocked. But honestly? That makes so much sense it’s offensive.

Jenson Button: Wait. So all those years you said “Oscar’s doing well, he has a good support system,” You meant “he has a wife”?

Mark Webber: Yes.

Sebastian Vettel: So you’ve just been—what? Watching the world speculate if Oscar’s single while knowing full well he’s married?

Mark Webber: Yup.

Sebastian Vettel:You’ve had us discussing Oscar’s “lonely young genius energy” for YEARS. I defended him in press. I said he was focused. Laser-focused.Not married-in-a-cottage-with-wildflowers focused.

Nico Rosberg: I hate how smug you are right now.

Jenson Button: What’s her name?

Mark Webber: Felicity.

David Coulthard: Felicity Piastri. That sounds like someone who could ruin my finances and my life and I’d thank her.

Sebastian Vettel: We need a picture.

Mark Webber: No you don’t.

Fernando Alonso: does she like paella?

Mark Webber: I’m muting this chat.

Kimi Räikkönen: send photo or at least tell us if she drinks

Mark Webber: She restores vintage cars and taught Oscar how to budget.

Jenson Button: ...okay but now I really want a picture.

Mark Webber: You’re all insufferable.

Nico Rosberg: You kept a wife from us, Webber. A WIFE.

David Coulthard: Imagine what else he’s hiding.

Jenson Button: Don’t be dramatic. It’s not like Oscar has a kid too.

***

Text Messages: Mark Webber & Fernando Alonso

Fernando Alonso: Mark.

Mark Webber: Oh no.

Fernando: A child?? A whole child, Mark?? You let me spiral over the wife situation and now there's a daughter???

Mark: Hi, Fernando. Hope your day is going well.

Fernando: Don’t you dare Webber-PR me. There is a toddler in this world who is part Oscar Piastri and YOU KNEW.

Mark: Yes, I knew. Yes, she’s wonderful. No, I didn’t tell you, because—as I’ve explained multiple times—they wanted privacy.

Fernando: You mean to tell me You watched me spend two years saying “Oscar is very mature for his age” WHILE HE HAD A BABY AT HOME AND JUST LET ME KEEP TALKING LIKE AN IDIOT

Mark: Correct.

Fernando: YOU KEPT THE F1 BABY OF THE YEAR FROM ME, MARK.

Mark: I wasn’t going to send out a group memo like “Hey everyone, Oscar has a kid and she builds Lego wind tunnels.”

Mark: Her name’s Beatrice. Bee for short. She’s three. Adorable. Terrifyingly smart. Obsessed with suspension geometry.

Fernando: You’re joking.

Mark: She corrected me about toe angle last Christmas.

Fernando: Mark. How old was he when she was born?

Mark: Nineteen.

Fernando: Oh my God.

Mark: Married Felicity the year before. Quiet ceremony. No PR. She was doing her master’s. He was racing F3. And they still made it work.

Fernando: You’re telling me that while the rest of the grid was busy doing shirtless sponsor shoots and pretending to be single on social media, Oscar Piastri was changing nappies and reading bedtime stories??

Mark: Yes. And building a sim rig while Bee napped in a carrier on his chest.

Fernando: This is insane. He’s been a father the entire time. He’s been a dad through his entire F1 career and no one knew?

Mark: Oscar’s very good at compartmentalising. And Felicity is… Well. She’d sue God if she thought He was interfering with Bee’s bedtime.

Fernando: I want to be annoyed at you for hiding this. But also. I respect it. Deeply.

Mark:Look, they weren’t hiding her to be shady. It was about privacy. Safety. She had health problems when she was born. They wanted to keep it quiet..

Fernando: She’s going to run the FIA by 2030, isn’t she?

Mark: Or the planet. Honestly, we’re just lucky she uses her powers for good.

Fernando: unbelievable. I liked being the grid’s biggest mystery and now we have Oscar “secret wife, secret daughter, still emotionally unbothered” Piastri

Mark: He’s an overachiever.

***

Group Chat: The Old Wolves 🐺🐺🐺

(Members: Mark Webber, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, David Coulthard)

Nico Rosberg: MARK. MARK WEBBER.

Sebastian Vettel: You have got to be kidding me. A CHILD??? A WHOLE CHILD??? She’s THREE. THREE YEARS OLD. Mark. Mark.

Jenson Button: A child???? He has a child????

Sebastian Vettel: OSCAR PIASTRI HAS BEEN A FATHER THIS WHOLE TIME??? MARK?

Nico Rosberg: You KNEW and didn’t SAY ANYTHING???

Kimi Räikkönen:This is what happens when you let Australians do PR.

Mark Webber: Good morning to all of you as well 🙃 Yes, I knew. Yes, she’s three. And no, I didn’t say anything, because it wasn’t mine to tell.

David Coulthard:SOME of us would have sent a gift if we’d known  baby Piastri existed. Instead, I found out from INSTAGRAM DURING BREAKFAST and nearly choked on my tea.

Nico Rosberg: MARK. MARK. WHY DID YOU NOT TELL US THERE WAS A TINY HUMAN WITH OSCAR’S GENES???

Sebastian Vettel: You knew. You let us all scream about “how composed Oscar is” like idiots while he was clearly surviving on three hours of sleep and toddler snacks.

Jenson Button: He has a KID, Mark. A child. 

Mark Webber: They wanted privacy. I respected that. It wasn’t my story to tell.

Fernando Alonso: He’s been a dad for three years. It’s not new.

Nico Rosberg: YOU KNEW TOO??

Sebastian Vettel: This is a conspiracy.

Mark Webber: They kept it private. It’s not my story to tell. Oscar and Felicity wanted Bee to grow up without the circus.

Jenson Button: …Bee? Wait. Her name is Bee?

Mark Webber: Beatrice. But she goes by Bee.

David Coulthard: That’s adorable. I can’t even be mad.

Sebastian Vettel: I can. I was unprepared. Emotionally. Also spiritually.

Mark Webber: Her favourite plush frog is named Jenson Button.

Jenson Button: Excuse me???

David Coulthard: Wait—what?

Mark Webber: It was a gift from me. She was born in the middle of the 2020 season. I was sleep-deprived. It was soft and had big eyes. I panicked and called the frog Jenson Button. She takes him everywhere. He’s her emotional support frog.

Jenson Button: You PANICKED and named a frog after me???

David Coulthard: Oh this is rich.

Sebastian Vettel: This is the legacy you deserve, Button. Ribbit.

Nico Rosberg: I cannot believe this.

Jenson Button: I have never been more flattered and insulted at the same time.

Nico Rosberg: So let me get this straight. Oscar Piastri, a man we all described as “quiet,” “level-headed,” and “mysterious,” has a wife, a child, a hidden life, and you’ve known the whole time.

Mark Webber: Yes.

Sebastian Vettel: Mark. Be honest. Is there another secret child we should know about?

Mark Webber: Not unless Lando has one. Which, to be clear, I do not want to investigate.

Nico Rosberg: Unbelievable. A secret wife and child. You’re lucky that baby is cute, Webber.

Mark Webber: She is. And she can say “sector times” better than most race engineers.

Sebastian Vettel: So to recap: – Oscar has a wife – Oscar has a daughter – Fernando and Mark are secret-keeping menaces – I now need to emotionally recover – Jenson is a frog

David Coulthard: Normal day in Formula 1.

[buckyseternaldoll]

kinky side quest

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Valentina warned you both: no kinky side quests. You hadn’t planned on it—until her words lit the fuse. The mission went perfectly. The real side quest? Very much in progress.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, blowjob in car, clothed grinding, denied fingering, face riding, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), metal fingers use, vaginal sex, rough sex, bathroom sex, shower sex, wall sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, breeding kink talk, dirty talk, begging, praise kink, soft dominance, aftercare, established relationship, post Thunderbolts settings

Word Count: 9k~ish

Note: This was something I've written in parts before I took the time for myself and vanished. Any mistakes would all be mine. Hope you'll enjoy whatever this was 💜

You were deployed to clear a simple task with Bucky, your boyfriend—though sometimes it still felt unbelievable that you’d scored him at all. Valentina had given you both that flat stare before you left the Watchtower briefing room, like she could see straight through you.

“No kinky side quests,” she’d said, pinning you both with her glare.

You and Bucky had both nodded like good little agents. Really, you hadn’t planned anything. It hadn’t even been on your mind… until she reminded you. Until she said it out loud, and your entire body remembered you were ovulating. Remembered you hadn’t fucked him in days. Remembered how hungry you’d been for him last night when you’d come to bed late and he’d just curled around you to sleep, murmuring he was too tired to start anything.

You’d promised yourself you’d wait. Get through the mission. Earn your prize. You’d ask for him to rail you stupid after you both got home safe. That had been the plan.

But Val’s warning had lodged itself in your skull like a dare.

You’d kept your head in the game right up until you were actually in the car. Just a normal sedan—sleek and fast but nondescript enough for local traffic. Bucky had insisted on driving, fingers loose on the wheel, eyes sweeping the road in practiced arcs. He was so good at this part, so focused it made you ache.

It should only be forty-five minutes to the drop point. Easy. But you were in the passenger seat fidgeting your fingers in your lap like a kid. Trying not to look at him too much. Trying not to think about his thighs in those dark tac pants.

Because while your mind was set on the assignment, your traitor of a heart had latched onto Val’s rule like it was a forbidden fruit. It wouldn’t stop playing the what-if game.

What if he let you?

What if he wanted it too?

Bucky cleared his throat at the wheel. His gaze didn’t even flick to you, but you knew him—he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye for the last ten minutes.

“Baby,” he drawled, voice low and gentle. “What’s on your mind?”

You swallowed, eyes snapping to the side mirror instead of him.

“Mm. Nothing.” You shifted your hips in the seat, realizing too late you’d been leaning toward him like gravity had given up on pretending.

He huffed a faint, knowing sound, thumb tapping the wheel.

“Something wrong?” he pressed, voice rich with genuine concern. Not annoyed. Not suspicious. Just… worried about you.

You hesitated.

Your brain screamed don’t say it. Don’t ruin the mission. You’d promised yourself. You were going to wait until the op was over.

But you’d been so wound up. So deprived. So embarrassingly wet for him for days now that your mouth betrayed you.

You twisted in your seat to face him fully, fingers clenching in your lap. Your voice cracked with nerves.

“Can I… suck your cock before we get there?”

It dropped into the quiet like a grenade.

Bucky actually flinched. You saw it—a tiny twitch of his jaw tightening, a hard swallow.

For one harrowing second you thought you’d fucked everything up.

But then he let out a short laugh—just air, really, a puff of relief, as his shoulders eased.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, and this time he finally glanced at you properly, eyes soft, mouth curved in that tired but patient little grin he reserved for you alone. “That was what was bothering you?”

You squirmed in your seat, cheeks on fire. Couldn’t look at him for a second.

You nodded anyway. Shame was there, hot in your belly, but so was something else—so was the defiance of I want you.

Technically, you hadn’t arrived at the drop yet. This was just transit. Not the mission. Not really.

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a split second like he was actually considering the ethics of it. But then he huffed again, softer this time. Like he’d decided.

“C’mere,” he said.

He took his right hand off the wheel—his warm flesh hand—and reached across to your restless fingers, prying them gently apart. He squeezed your hand once, firmly. Grounding.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he guided your palm down.

Down to his lap.

Pressed it flush over the front of his pants.

You felt the heat there immediately. Even soft, he was thick. Heavy. But under your hand he shifted and you felt it twitch—just a little at first, then again, firmer. Filling.

You bit back a whimper, heat roaring through you.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just let you feel it. Let you watch the way his eyelids went half-mast as his cock stirred and hardened under your palm.

It was wordless permission.

But he still gave you the grace of saying it.

“My cock’s all yours, baby,” he said quietly. His voice was impossibly tender. “If that’s what you need, take it.”

That undid you.

Your hesitation shattered, replaced by raw, urgent want.

You fumbled at his fly, unzipping him with shaking fingers. He lifted his hips just enough—obedient, helpful, letting you work without rush—to free him from the confines of his tactical pants.

And there he was.

Big. Thick. Gloriously hardening in the dark of the night.

Ready for you.

—

You didn’t rush.

You made yourself pause. Forced yourself to just look at him.

Your breath caught when you took in the sight of his cock, freed from his tactical pants—thick, veined, standing proud and heavy. Even in the near-dark of the car, you could see it: the occasional slash of passing streetlights cast pale ribbons across his lap, glinting off the slick wetness gathered at the tip. It curved ever so slightly toward you, shameless in its want.

Your mouth actually watered.

God. It was big. So fucking big. It always struck you just how massive he was, the kind of size you could never forget once you’d taken him. Exposed like this, twitching for you, he looked almost vulnerable. Needy.

You wondered—not for the first time—if the serum had anything to do with it. If it had made every part of him harder, stronger, bigger. Or if he’d always been this blessed.

Either way, you were the luckiest woman on Earth.

You owned this cock. Like a queen. Like it was a gift he’d given you to worship and keep.

You flicked your eyes up.

Bucky kept his gaze on the road, hyper-aware of their route even now. But you saw the tension in his jaw, the way the streetlights striped over the hard line of his throat when he swallowed.

His shifted his flesh hand on your back.

He was holding you there, palm warm and firm between your shoulder blades, thumb stroking slow, calming circles over your spine like you were the one who needed reassuring. It made you shiver.

The car’s interior was shadowed and private except for those brief sweeps of city glow through the windshield. You felt hidden and exposed all at once.

“Easy, doll,” he rumbled, voice low and husky but so soft. “Take your time.”

You let out a breathless, shaky laugh, your lips hovering inches from his cock.

“Don’t tell me that unless you mean it,” you warned, your voice cracking with how badly you wanted him.

His hand squeezed your back, fingers flexing a little like he was fighting to stay gentle.

“I mean it,” he promised, voice firm but warm. “I want you to enjoy it.”

That ruined you.

You bent closer, deliberately slow, letting your lips ghost over the tip in the barest, most teasing kiss. The salty smear of his pre-cum met your tongue when you finally flicked it out to taste him.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, grip tightening reflexively on your back.

“Fuck,” he whimpered.

That sound went straight to your core. You fucking lived for those rare cracks in his control.

You licked him again, circling the head, savoring the heat and weight of him, feeling the slight tremor that ran through his thighs. He pulsed in your hold, swelling even harder.

His hand pressed you just a little closer, not forcing but anchoring you to him. His thumb traced slow circles over your spine, soothing in direct contrast to the filthy act you were committing in the front seat of a moving car.

“Good girl,” he murmured so low you barely heard it over the hum of the tires on asphalt.

It burned through you like fire.

You moaned softly against the head of his cock, the vibration making him twitch, before finally opening your mouth wide and taking him in.

He was so fucking thick your lips stretched around him, your jaw ached immediately in that delicious, obscene way you craved.

Bucky let out a strangled groan above you, deep and broken, his fingers digging lightly into your back.

You bobbed your head slowly at first, letting him feel the searing heat of your mouth, your tongue pressing flat along the underside of his shaft as you sucked him in. The wet, sloppy sounds filled the darkened car, mixing with the low, even roar of the engine.

His hips shifted once, restrained—like every part of him screamed to fuck up into your mouth but he wouldn’t let himself.

“Jesus, baby,” he rasped, voice rough as gravel. “Just like that. So fucking perfect.”

You moaned around him, eyes fluttering shut at the praise, your own hips squirming in the seat as slick gathered hot and heavy in your panties.

You let your right hand slide down, wrapping tight around the thick base of his cock, your fingers barely meeting. You stroked him in perfect rhythm with your mouth while your left hand pressed hard into the muscle of his thigh, feeling it tense under your touch.

He was so hot. So alive. So yours.

You needed air. You pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit stretching between your swollen lips and his glistening cock.

You let your tongue swirl around the tip, gathering more of his salty pre-cum and spreading it with relish.

“God,” you groaned, voice breaking on a whimper. You leaned in to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along his shaft between words. “I missed your thick, fat cock… too fucking much.”

Bucky’s chest rose in a ragged inhale. You saw the way his nostrils flared, eyes tight as he forced himself to keep them on the road.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice cracking. “You’re gonna kill me, doll.”

You moaned at that, licking deliberately slow down his length, tracing every pulsing vein, every ridge, until your mouth reached the base. Your breath was hot and greedy, your mouth glistening as you finally pulled back just enough to see his ruined expression reflected in the side mirror.

“My cock,” you sighed, nearly sobbing with want, before swallowing him whole again in one greedy slide.

Bucky groaned. A low, wrecked sound.

You worked him harder now, your head bobbing faster and wetter, your tongue pressing and flicking under the crown with every stroke. Your hand twisted at the base in perfect rhythm, squeezing tight, milking him.

You felt it when he lost the battle for control. The way his hand on your back shook before squeezing you tighter, pressing you close in silent desperation.

“Baby, fuck,” he gasped, voice going hoarse with strain. “That feels so good. So fucking good.”

You popped off just long enough to pant out a feral little laugh, lips slick and spit-drenched.

“I know,” you breathed, eyes glittering as you licked him from base to tip again, before plunging your mouth back down.

Your pace turned relentless.

Wet, obscene slurps filled the car, the only soundtrack to your sin. His ragged breathing cracked and broke, mixing with the constant rumble of the road beneath you. Your own cunt clenched around nothing, neglected, soaked through, but you didn’t care. You’d make him fall apart for you.

You felt him start to pulse, harder, thicker on your tongue.

His voice hitched, went ragged.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard once we’re back,” he groaned, the threat edged with promise, with desperate need.

You moaned around him, the vibration making him jerk in your mouth.

Your hand at the base squeezed tighter, stroking faster, matching your mouth’s relentless pace.

“Let go for me, baby,” you slurred around his cock, words muffled but clear. You pulled back just enough to meet his blown pupils in the mirror, your lips swollen and wet, your breath coming hard.

“Come for me, Bucky.”

And then you swallowed him whole again, eager and hungry, determined to take everything he gave you.

—

You felt it the moment he lost the last scrap of control.

Bucky shuddered hard, the tremor rolling through his thighs, his hand clenching against your back in a bruising grip as he choked out a guttural moan.

You didn’t slow. Didn’t stop.

His cock twitched once—twice—and then he was coming in your mouth, thick and hot, salty and utterly his.

You swallowed automatically, greedy, taking as much as you could. But there was so much of him, and you’d pushed yourself so deep that some of it leaked from the corners of your mouth, sliding down to your hand still pumping him at the base.

He cursed—low, strangled, wrecked.

“Fuuuck—baby—”

You finally let yourself pull back, gasping a breath as you tried to swallow the last of it, licking your lips shamelessly. You felt it smear on your chin and thumbed at it, giggling a little breathlessly despite how hard your own cunt clenched at the taste.

God. He always tasted good to you. Like an appetizer crafted just for you.

Your eyes flicked up to his face, taking in the sight of your normally stoic, disciplined supersoldier boyfriend looking… ruined.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded and glassy from release. A faint sheen of sweat caught the occasional streetlight slashing through the windshield. But to your infinite jealousy, he wasn’t panting or out of breath. His chest rose and fell evenly. Enhanced stamina, you thought with a petty, hungry little growl in your head.

He was already recovering.

You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, only smearing a little more of his cum over your thumb before popping it into your mouth, sucking it clean deliberately, knowing he was watching.

Bucky’s jaw flexed hard.

“Fuck, baby,” he finally managed, voice raw and ragged. “That was so good. But…”

He swallowed, voice going lower, darker, more dangerous.

“I need more.”

Your heart skittered at that tone.

You let out a breathless laugh, reaching over him for the small pack of tissues you kept in the door pocket. You flicked one free and carefully wiped the remaining mess off his flushed cock, cleaning him up with an absurdly tender touch. He lifted his hips obediently, giving you access, hissing as the tissue dragged over oversensitized skin.

“Easy,” he breathed.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me,” you teased, voice husky. “You came so much I almost choked.”

That earned a strained chuckle from him, one that ended in a low groan as you tucked him back into his tac pants, carefully zipping him up.

You tossed the used tissue aside and smirked, settling back into your seat, your eyes bright and wicked in the glow of the passing streetlights.

“I know you need more,” you purred. “So let’s get this shit done ASAP.”

You leaned in closer, until your mouth brushed the shell of his ear. Your voice dropped to a filthy whisper, warm and mean and so needy you almost trembled saying it.

“Then you can fuck my wet cunt so hard you break me apart.”

He let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a growl, teeth bared in a grin that was feral and fond all at once.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

His right hand—his warm, calloused flesh hand—slid right back to you. You grabbed it, guiding it ruthlessly between your legs, pressing it tight over the seam of your tactical suit.

He could feel the heat. The damp. Even through the heavy-duty fabric, there was no hiding it.

Bucky sucked in a breath, thumb twitching experimentally over you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, voice cracking with lust. His eyes flicked to you briefly before darting back to the road, like he couldn’t afford the distraction.

But you didn’t miss the way his pupils blew wide.

“See what you do to me?” you teased, grinding just once against his palm before pulling back, breath shaking.

His fingers curled reflexively, wanting to follow, to press harder.

“Oh, I feel it,” he rasped. His tone was low, dark, but the smile tugging at his lips was all Bucky. Soft. Devoted. “I’m going to fuck you relentlessly.”

You shivered at the promise.

He punctuated it with a single, deliberate kiss to your left cheek—a press of warm, slightly chapped lips that felt less like affection and more like sealing a contract.

You felt your heart kick against your ribs, your whole body thrumming with anticipation.

Sex for hours. That was the deal now.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t earn it.

You settled back in your seat, trying to calm your breathing, a determined glint in your eyes.

Your brain was already plotting the mission, calculating shortcuts, prioritizing targets.

For the good of the assignment.

And for the goddamn sex, you thought, biting back a delirious grin.

—

You and Bucky handled the assignment a little too quickly, if you were being honest.

Like the perfect, ruthless duo Valentina trained you to be.

Intels extracted. Servers wiped. Physical evidence torched. The drop point reduced to smoking debris in the darkness after Bucky triggered the silent detonator, both of you already on the move before the muted whump even finished echoing.

No one saw a thing. No cameras left to prove you’d even been there.

You tapped the comm in your ear, eyes scanning the dark street as you headed back to the car.

“Mission complete. Back to HQ,” you reported, voice low and steady.

Valentina’s cool voice crackled back a moment later.

“Copy. Don’t make me regret pairing you two alone.”

You smirked as you shut the comm off with another tap, cutting the line.

Beside you, Bucky did the same, pulling out his own in-ear and tucking it in his pocket. You saw the way his mouth quirked despite himself, even as he scanned the perimeter one last time.

Professional to the end.

But when you finally got back in the car, the doors shutting with dull thuds in the night, it was like all that icy discipline melted in an instant.

You tugged your tactical gloves off and dropped them on the dash with a clatter. The car reeked faintly of gun oil, burnt electronics… and sex.

You didn’t even try to be subtle about inhaling.

You glanced at Bucky as he started the engine, headlights cutting through the dark. Streetlights flicked past in rhythmic sweeps, carving his face into alternating slices of shadow and gold.

His lips were still a little swollen. You felt your own throb in sympathy.

He caught you staring. Didn’t say a word. Just smirked—slow, knowing.

That smirk widened when he reached across the center console and took your left hand in his, squeezing your fingers.

But he didn’t keep it there.

Instead, he let go and dragged his big, calloused palm right to your lap, pressing between your thighs.

You whimpered.

His fingers grazed the seam of your tac pants, right over your cunt, even through the thick material sending a sharp jolt of heat straight up your spine.

You gasped, pressing back against the seat, hand grabbing his wrist to either stop him or guide him—you couldn’t tell which.

“Still damp,” he said, voice low, cracked with hunger.

You swallowed hard.

“From sweat,” you tried to lie, your tone cracking in embarrassment, knowing full well he could practically smell you.

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh, deep and rough.

“Nah,” he said, voice going even lower, his grin turning feral as streetlights washed his face in amber. “Smelled too fucking sweet for sweat.”

You shuddered at that, your thighs instinctively pressing together around his hand.

Bucky’s fingers moved. He pressed more firmly, dragging slow, heavy lines along the seam of your tac pants, forcing a muffled moan from you.

You squirmed in your seat. The thick, tight fabric was torture. Too much and not enough.

You let out a frustrated sound and reached for the fly of your pants with shaking fingers, unzipping them with a harsh zzzzp.

Bucky’s eyes cut to you once, quickly, heat banked in his stare, before flicking back to the road.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice almost lost under the hum of tires on asphalt.

You wiggled your hips in the seat, shoving the tac pants down just enough to free your cunt—still covered by the thinnest pair of dark stretch shorts you wore underneath.

They were drenched.

The proof was in the way the fabric clung wetly to you, your slick staining it in a dark patch that even the dim streetlights couldn’t hide.

Bucky let out a harsh breath at the sight, his hand immediately dropping to press right against it.

He grunted, fingers flexing hard.

“Jesus,” he rasped. “So fucking wet for me?”

Your moan was half-words, half-desperation.

“Always,” you managed, your voice wrecked.

You didn’t even try to be coy. Your own fingers closed around his wrist, dragging his hand tighter to you. You ground shamelessly against his palm, feeling the heat of him even through the thin damp shorts.

You hissed at the friction, head falling back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed.

He didn’t move away. Didn’t tease. He let you use him, fingers pressing in harder, tracing the soaked line of your folds through the fabric with slow, deliberate pressure.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice going even rougher, ruined with affection and lust all at once. “So needy you’re fucking yourself on my hand in the front seat.”

You let out a strangled sound that might have been his name.

His thumb found your clit through the damp cloth and pressed just firmly enough to make your hips jerk.

You bit your lip to stifle the whine that threatened to escape.

He chuckled darkly, that sound so deep it rattled you.

“Better hope no one’s watching,” he teased, glancing at you sidelong, eyes glittering with heat and mischief as the streetlights cut over his features.

Your breath hitched, heart hammering.

You smirked through the haze of lust, voice shaking but defiant.

“Drive faster, Sarge,” you managed. “Or I’ll make myself come before you even get me home.”

Bucky’s grin turned savage at that.

“Oh sweetheart,” he crooned, voice so low it felt like velvet dragging over your skin. He pressed even harder, thumb circling your clit, slow and merciless. “You’re not coming without me. That’s a promise.”

Your answering moan was wanton and helpless, your fingers still gripping his wrist as you rutted against his hand.

And Bucky just smiled, turning back to the road, driving into the night with one hand on the wheel—while the other stayed buried between your legs, making sure you remembered exactly who you belonged to.

—

Bucky didn’t finger you.

No matter how badly you whined. No matter how your voice cracked, wrecked and breathless, your hips rolling up shamelessly into his touch.

He just kept his fingers right there over your soaked shorts, teasing the seam of your folds through the wet fabric but never pushing inside.

“Please, baby,” you panted, your voice a broken plea. You grabbed his wrist tighter, forcing his fingers to press harder until you felt them sink into the dip of your folds—even through the thin, soaked barrier of your shorts. Your clit throbbed at the friction. “Fuck—please, finger me.”

He huffed out a breath that was half a laugh, half a strained groan.

“No,” he said, voice so low it felt like it vibrated straight through you.

You let out a desperate little whine.

He glanced at you sidelong, jaw tight, eyes flashing as another passing streetlight cut across his face.

“Not here,” he growled. The words were soft, but they snapped like a command. “I’m not giving you that in the damn car.”

Your nails bit into his wrist.

“Bucky—”

He exhaled sharply, his hand flexing against you just once before he dragged his palm away.

“I said no,” he repeated, this time softer, more patient, the dominant control edged with fondness. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard once we’re home. That’s it. That’s the deal.”

You grunted in frustration, biting back a curse as your hips bucked one last time. You could feel the slick mess you’d made in your shorts, heat and wetness smearing against his palm before he pulled away completely.

You shivered, angry at the loss.

But you didn’t want to risk making him change his mind.

With a ragged groan, you finally reached down, yanking your tactical pants back up. You wriggled your hips in the seat to get them over your ass, cursing quietly as the wet fabric clung to your folds in the worst way. You fumbled with the zipper, finally sealing yourself back up—like it made any difference now.

Your pussy ached.

Bucky didn’t help, either. He just gave you this smug little sideways look, his lips curling at the edges in a knowing grin.

But his eyes were dark.

Hungry.

You swallowed and shifted again in your seat, trying to get comfortable even as you stayed pressed close enough to grip his hand. You clung to it, even after zipping up. Even after you’d shoved down the raw want just enough to stop begging.

He squeezed your fingers.

Hard.

Reassuring. Possessive.

The rest of the drive back to the Watchtower was torture.

Because you didn’t stop.

Neither of you did.

You whispered every filthy promise you could think of, voice ragged with need. You told him exactly what you wanted—what you needed from him the moment you got through that door.

How you wanted him to shove you against the wall.

How you wanted his cock so deep you could barely breathe.

How you needed to taste yourself on him as he fucked your mouth raw.

How you’d been thinking about him all week, even on missions, touching yourself in the shower and whining his name.

Bucky listened. He didn’t shut you up.

He just smiled.

That little wolfish grin breaking out whenever your words got especially dirty. His jaw flexed tight when you moaned out your filthiest demands.

And all he did was grunt, voice rough, promising you over and over:

“Yeah?”

“You want all that?”

“You’re gonna get everything, sweetheart.”

He leaned heavy on everything, each time making your stomach swoop, your pussy clench.

“Everything you want. Once we’re home.”

You could barely sit still. The seatbelt felt like a restraint you wanted to tear off.

Your fingers stayed knotted together, his thumb dragging slow circles over your knuckles, deceptively gentle.

—

By the time you pulled into the Watchtower’s garage, you were shaking.

Bucky parked in the same precise, methodical way he did everything, even though you could see the tension in his arms, the white-knuckled grip on the wheel.

When you finally stepped out, your legs felt like jelly.

But you forced yourself to walk normally beside him through the darkened hallways, past the security doors.

The elevator ride up was somehow worse.

Your body screamed to press against him. To climb into his lap and grind down until you soaked his pants.

You wanted to maul him. Bite his bottom lip. Kiss him sloppy and breathless.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Valentina had cameras in all the common areas.

You felt her ghost in the walls even now. Watching. Judging.

So you stood there beside Bucky, trying to look normal. Professional.

Except your thighs kept pressing together in helpless, instinctive pulses. Your breath was too fast. Your face too hot.

Bucky noticed. Of course he did.

He let out a single, low chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

He gripped your hand tighter, fingers interlacing with yours so firmly you couldn’t pull away.

“Behave,” he murmured, voice so soft no one else could hear.

You shivered.

But you didn’t dare meet his eyes.

If you did, you’d lose it.

You didn’t know he was struggling too.

That behind that cool, battle-hardened expression, he was undone.

That all he wanted was to drag you back into that car, crawl over the center console, and fuck you right there until you couldn’t walk.

But he didn’t.

Because you both knew the rules.

For now.

But the moment that elevator door opened?

All bets were off.

—

As soon as the door banged shut behind you, Bucky didn’t waste a second.

He spun you around and pinned you hard against the door, his metal arm braced beside your head to cage you in. His right hand flicked the light switch on in one smooth motion, flooding the room with warm brightness before it immediately dropped to curl tight around your waist, holding you in place.

You didn’t even have a second to register the room before his mouth crashed into yours.

It was sloppy, messy, starved—all teeth and tongue and wet, hungry sounds. Your lips smashed together so hard it hurt, but you moaned anyway, clawing at the thick fabric of his jacket to pull him even closer.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit it, just hard enough to make you gasp.

But then—just when you thought you’d drown in the filth of it—he gentled.

His lips softened against yours, his tongue slowing, licking lazily into your mouth like he was savoring you. Like he couldn’t get enough.

Your whole body trembled.

You felt his crotch grow against you—no other word for it. His cock hardened rapidly in his pants, thick and pressing into your stomach through both your suits. You couldn’t help it—you rolled your hips against him, needing anything, groaning at the friction even though the layers between you made it frustratingly dull.

“Fuck,” you panted, breaking the kiss for air, your head thudding back against the door.

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide, nearly eclipsing those blue eyes. His mouth was wet and red from your kisses, stubble scratching deliciously along your jaw.

He licked his lips once.

“You asked for this, baby,” he growled, voice low, gravelly, dangerous but so fucking tender underneath. His lips curled into a knowing, vicious little smile. “No backing out. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

Your breath hitched.

“Please,” you whispered, completely wrecked already.

That did it.

He grabbed you under your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing.

You immediately hooked your legs around his waist, ankles locking behind him, grinding your soaked pussy shamelessly against the hard ridge in his pants. He groaned, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to hold you up as he turned and carried you toward the bathroom.

You didn’t stop kissing.

You attacked his mouth over and over, teeth clacking, tongues tangling, panting breath filling the narrow hallway. Every time you rolled your hips into him, you felt him jerk slightly, his cock pressing harder into you.

“Fuck—so needy,” he growled, breathless this time.

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours, Bucky. Always.”

That made him snarl low in his throat, and he crushed you harder to his chest as he kicked open the bathroom door.

He set you down only long enough to rip at your clothes.

Your fingers were shaking so hard you fumbled the zipper on your tactical suit. Bucky didn’t wait. He grabbed it, yanking it down so fast the teeth nearly split.

“Off,” he ordered, voice so low you felt it in your cunt.

You obeyed, peeling it away, your soaked shorts practically peeling off your sticky folds with a wet noise that made you whimper in embarrassment. The cold bathroom air hit your soaked pussy and you hissed, thighs instinctively pressing together.

But Bucky was already shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it aside. You helped him with the rest, fingers frantic as you unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants down.

His cock sprang free, fat and flushed and so fucking hard it slapped against his lower belly. You both paused for half a heartbeat just to look.

It twitched.

You moaned, biting your lip, fingers already reaching for it before he caught your wrists.

“Shower,” he ordered.

You whimpered.

He didn’t let you protest.

He hoisted you up again, your legs wrapping automatically around him, and reached behind you to flick the shower on.

Warm water blasted from above immediately, steaming the room. It hit your back first, making you gasp, then sluiced over Bucky’s broad shoulders and the hard planes of his chest. His hair slicked back against his head, water streaming down his stubbled jaw.

He pressed you against the tile, shifting you slightly higher on the wall, your slick folds lining up perfectly with his length.

You couldn’t help it—you shifted your hips, dragging your soaked, desperate pussy along his thick shaft, smearing your slick all over him even as the shower rained down.

You both moaned, loud, unfiltered.

“Fuck—baby—” he panted, voice going wrecked.

You felt him adjust, one hand bracing you under your ass, the other reaching between you to grip his cock, lining it up.

You barely had time to suck in a breath.

He shoved in.

You screamed.

Your head thunked back against the tile, eyes rolling as his fat cock split you open, inch after inch pressing impossibly deep until he bottomed out.

“Fuuuuck,” you sobbed, nails raking his shoulders.

“Yeah?” he growled, breath ragged against your ear. “That what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes—fuck—Bucky—”

He pulled back and slammed in again, the wet, filthy slap of your bodies colliding echoing off the tile walls.

He fucked you relentlessly.

He set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward with hard, wet slaps, your breasts bouncing wildly between you. Water splashed off both your bodies, steam billowing around you.

Your nipples grazed his chest, slick and swollen. Once, they smacked against his face as you jolted in his hold, and he groaned—open-mouthed and hungry—before burying his face between them.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth hard enough to make you wail, his teeth scraping, his tongue swirling messily.

Your moans turned into raw, broken sobs of his name.

“Bucky—Bucky please—fuck—so deep—”

He snarled, mouth muffled against your tits.

“Mine,” he growled, words wet, hot breath burning your skin. “All fucking mine.”

Your cunt spasmed around him, milking him as you clenched so hard you almost forced him out.

He held you pinned to the wall with sheer strength, thrusting deeper, harder, until your vision went white.

You screamed for him, voice cracking, nails digging so hard you drew blood from his shoulders.

He let out a strangled groan against your chest, his thrusts turning erratic.

Then he froze.

Burying himself as deep as he could, cock pulsing hard as he came inside you, heat flooding your core.

You felt every twitch, every thick spurt filling you, even as the shower water washed over you both.

You moaned for it. Wanted it. Loved it.

You clung to him, legs still locked tight, until you both finally sagged.

He held you there, breathing hard against your collarbone, his cock still buried inside you, softening slowly as your walls milked out every last drop.

When your legs finally gave out completely, he eased you down gently, arms wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You both wobbled under the spray.

He tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear with shaking fingers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You okay?” he rasped.

You nodded weakly, still shivering with aftershocks.

“Fuck—yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

He smiled. Soft. Gentle.

“Good.”

He helped you finish showering after that, washing you carefully, checking you for any bruises he’d left. You washed him too, fingers tender as they traced over the strong lines of his chest, the scars you both knew by heart.

Finally you both stepped out, skin pink and steaming, drying off just enough to wrap yourselves in thick, fluffy bathrobes.

You were both still flushed, still breathing too hard, still so far from finished.

But that was for the bedroom.

And as he toweled off his hair, watching you with those blown, heated eyes, you both knew you were about to ruin the bed next.

—

You didn’t bother pretending anymore.

He dropped the towel, letting it fall to the floor in a heavy, wet heap. Bucky’s gaze tracked every inch of you, unapologetic, hungry.

Your bathrobe followed with a flick of your wrist, sliding off your shoulders like it offended you. His fell away too, careless, pooling at his feet.

And you both lunged at each other.

Mouths smashed together in another sloppy, wet kiss—needy, uncoordinated, breathless. His hands roamed your body without hesitation, palms hot, fingers digging in to leave bruises.

Your own hands scraped through his damp hair, tugging him closer until your teeth clicked.

He growled low against your mouth, nipping at your lip before sucking it into his own, tongue tracing the sting he left behind.

Your bare, slick bodies pressed together, chest to chest, skin sliding wetly. His cock, still soft from the aftershower, twitched between you, thickening almost instantly from the friction of your bellies rubbing together.

You moaned at the sensation of it hardening right there, growing against your stomach, the heat of him unmistakable.

You fumbled backwards, lips parting just enough to pant for breath before you fell back onto the bed with a bounce.

You lay there, hair splayed on the sheets, chest heaving, legs instinctively parting wide in invitation.

Your eyes locked on him.

He stopped, looming at the foot of the bed, gaze dropping to your glistening cunt.

His pupils were blown wide, nostrils flaring as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fuck, doll…” he rasped.

His right hand, flesh and warm, wrapped around his own cock. He stroked it slowly, deliberately. The head already leaking, pre-cum beading before smearing over his thumb.

You watched, moaning at the sight, your own walls clenching in empty need.

“Bucky,” you whimpered.

That got his attention.

He climbed onto the bed, bracing himself over you, his cock dragging against your belly as he lowered his mouth to yours again.

You kissed hungrily, teeth clacking, breath mingling.

Your hand snaked between you, fingers wrapping around his slick length, feeling the heat, the pulse. You stroked him slowly, thumb smearing the wetness over the head.

He groaned into your mouth, hips twitching.

“Fuck—baby—”

You broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Please… finger me,” you begged, voice cracking with desperation. “I need it so bad.”

He stilled for just a second, eyes searching yours, face tightening with lust and affection all at once.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I got you.”

He shifted, bracing himself better. He knelt between your parted thighs, feet anchored into the mattress for leverage. His flesh hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over the taut peak while he supported himself on his elbow.

The metal hand slid down your belly, cool and hard and precise, making your muscles twitch.

You whimpered, hips rolling up to meet him.

He paused, watching you squirm.

“Spread,” he ordered softly.

You obeyed instantly, thighs falling wider apart.

He hummed his approval and pressed one cold vibranium finger to your slick folds, sliding it through the mess you’d already made.

You moaned, head falling back, eyes rolling.

He traced your entrance before pressing in slowly, one thick finger stretching you open, the temperature contrast making you gasp.

You clenched around it reflexively.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Open up for me.”

You keened as he started pumping slowly, his metal thumb rubbing teasing circles around your clit.

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, more.”

He rewarded you immediately, sliding in another finger.

You cried out, walls fluttering around the intrusion, slick dripping onto his hand.

Bucky bit his lip watching you, the cords of his neck standing out with restraint.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he muttered.

You could barely answer, only managing a desperate moan.

He kept going, pumping those two thick metal fingers in and out, dragging them along your walls, feeling you squeeze down on him. His flesh hand squeezed your breast firmly, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple hard enough to make you jerk.

“Bucky—fuck!”

“Such a good girl,” he praised, voice cracked with hunger. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your cunt being fucked on his fingers.

You grabbed at his ass, nails digging in, pulling him closer.

He chuckled, low and mean.

“You want more?”

“Please,” you sobbed.

He rewarded you with a third finger.

You wailed, back arching off the bed as he stretched you wide.

“Fuck, fuck—baby—it’s so full—”

He curled his fingers deliberately, finding that spot inside you that made your vision shatter.

Your body locked up, breath stuttering.

He didn’t let up.

He kept thrusting, harder, faster, the cold metal unrelenting.

Your moans turned to screams, nails dragging red lines down his ass.

He dropped his head and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing before soothing it with his tongue.

Your entire body convulsed, muscles seizing as pleasure detonated.

He felt it, the way you clenched and spasmed around his fingers, and curled them even harder.

“Come on, baby,” he growled against your breast. “Come for me.”

You did.

You came so hard you saw stars, your pussy squirting wetly around his fingers, slick splashing onto the sheets in messy, humiliating waves.

He kept working you through it, thumb circling your clit, mouth latched onto your breast like he couldn’t get enough.

Your cries broke into choked sobs of his name.

“Bucky—baby—please—”

He finally slowed his thrusts, your cunt still spasming weakly around his fingers, making obscene wet sounds that filled the room.

You felt your walls clench one last time before going slack.

He drew his metal fingers out of you deliberately, slowly, letting you feel every ridge and bump as they dragged from your soaked, oversensitive entrance.

They left with a wet, filthy squelch that made your face burn with embarrassment. Strings of slick clung between his fingers and your pussy, stretching and breaking, leaving messy strands smeared across your inner thighs.

You shuddered helplessly.

Bucky's eyes never left yours.

He lifted his metal hand, studying the mess you’d made of him with hungry, approving eyes. Then he brought those slick-coated fingers to his mouth.

He licked them clean slowly, tongue dragging over the metal with practiced precision, making sure you saw every movement.

You whimpered at the sight, body twitching weakly on the sheets.

He smiled around his fingers, pulling them free with a soft pop.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he rasped, voice thick and ruined with pride and lust.

You swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it all felt.

You nodded shakily.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, voice cracking.

That earned you a low, satisfied rumble from his chest.

He shifted his weight on the bed, knees sinking deeper into the mattress between your spread thighs as he leaned over you. His warm, flesh hand braced beside your head, metal arm planting firmly next to your hip to cage you in.

Then he bent down and kissed you.

It was slow. Tender. A total contrast to how he’d just wrecked you.

His lips moved gently over yours, patient and grounding, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You whimpered again, your hands fluttering up weakly to clutch at his damp hair, nails scraping lightly along his scalp.

He hummed against your mouth, nuzzling you with the tip of his nose, pressing sweet little kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your jaw.

But even as he comforted you, you felt it.

His cock.

Hard as granite. Pressed hot and heavy against your thigh. Twitching every time you squirmed, smearing his pre-cum onto your skin.

He wasn’t even pretending to hide it.

And you both knew—

He wasn’t even close to done with you yet.

—

You were still shaking.

Your whole body felt boneless, oversensitive. But the ache between your thighs wouldn’t quit. Even as the aftershocks made your cunt twitch and flutter, you felt yourself need again.

Bucky noticed immediately.

His thumb brushed your lip, swollen from his kisses, and you sucked it automatically.

Your hips squirmed, legs twitching open.

He watched your expression melt into need.

“Oh, you’re not done,” he rumbled softly, smiling darkly.

Your answer was a half-sobbed whine.

“I need more.”

He chuckled, deep and knowing.

“I’ll wreck you, baby.”

You let out a broken laugh, grabbing at his shoulders for leverage.

With all the strength you had left, you shifted, shoving him back against the bed. He let you, grinning, his big frame relaxing against the pillows with his arms spread wide in invitation.

You climbed over him on trembling thighs, straddling his chest for a moment. He grabbed your hips immediately, fingers digging in to hold you steady.

You kept going, shifting your weight until your dripping pussy hovered directly over his face.

He groaned the second you lined yourself up.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes blown wide as he stared up at your glistening folds. “Look at you.”

You didn’t wait. You sank down onto his mouth.

Bucky growled so deeply it vibrated right through your cunt.

You gasped, hands flying to the headboard for support as he immediately got to work.

His tongue was expert, sliding through your folds, flicking your swollen clit with practiced precision. The hot, wet strokes made your thighs clamp around his head.

He loved that, humming deep in his chest so the vibration traveled straight into you.

He slurped noisily, unbothered by the mess, his mouth smearing your slick everywhere. He devoured you like a man starved, dragging his tongue through the spill from your last orgasm, licking you clean only to make you messier.

You moaned, half-choked, rolling your hips desperately over his face.

“Baby—fuck—Bucky—”

He pulled you down harder, metal hand bracing one thigh while his flesh hand gripped the other, keeping you wide open for him.

Then he changed tactics—his tongue pushed inside you.

You nearly screamed.

He tongue-fucked you hard, messy, deep, alternating with dragging licks up to your clit before plunging back inside. Your hands scrabbled at the headboard, trying to get away and get closer all at once.

He didn’t let you move.

He moaned into your pussy, filthy and approving, eyes fluttering shut as if savoring you.

“Fuck—please—I’m gonna—Bucky—”

You couldn’t finish.

You broke apart on his tongue, cumming with a raw wail, grinding desperately against his mouth as your juices spilled.

He didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, swallowing everything you gave him, the obscene wet sounds echoing in the room until you were practically sobbing above him.

When you finally slumped forward, twitching and wrecked, he only gave you a second.

His arms tightened, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

You whimpered as he dragged you lower, lining you up with his cock, so hard it slapped wetly against your thigh.

He didn’t tease.

He shoved in.

You both moaned—his a guttural, broken sound, yours a strangled cry.

You barely had time to adjust before he was fucking up into you from below.

Your body jolted with every savage thrust. You tried to ride, but your thighs trembled uselessly.

Bucky noticed, smiling through gritted teeth.

“Too fucked out to move, baby?”

You mewled, half-sobbing.

He slowed, stopped.

But only to shift.

He sat up, his hands bracing under your ass, lifting you until only the tip remained inside.

“Hold on,” he ordered.

You barely had time to obey before he slammed you back down onto his cock.

You screamed, walls clenching violently around him.

He lifted you again, set the pace himself. Up. Down. Faster. Harder. Using his strength to fuck you on his cock.

Your breasts bounced, slapping his chest and face. He buried his face between them, biting and sucking, leaving raw marks that made you keen.

“Mine,” he growled, voice muffled. “All fucking mine.”

You nodded frantically, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“Yes—Bucky—yours—fuck—”

He panted, hips slamming up to meet you, cock driving so deep you swore you could feel it in your throat.

Your own movements grew sloppy. You tried to ride him back, changing the rhythm—slamming down, grinding in circles that made you both curse, then bouncing again.

Your cunt squelched wetly, obscene, soaking his cock and thighs.

You felt him twitch inside you, cock pulsing.

He stopped again only to reposition.

He lifted you, arms flexing hard, standing up from the bed in one smooth motion.

You clung to him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

He walked you to the nearest wall and slammed you against it.

You gasped, head falling back.

“Bucky—please—”

He didn’t answer with words.

He fucked up into you, pinning you to the wall with raw, bruising thrusts.

Your back scraped the wall lightly with every slam. His cock pistoned in and out with wet slaps that filled the room.

You were crying out openly now, voice wrecked.

“Bucky—Jesus fuck—please—fuck—so deep—”

“Yeah?” he growled, teeth bared in a savage grin. “That’s what you want? You want me to breed you? Fill you up?”

You sobbed.

“Yes—please—fill me—want it—want you to come in me—”

That broke him.

He rammed in hard, deep, so deep you saw stars.

Your orgasm ripped through you violently, making you scream his name over and over.

He groaned, voice cracking as he spilled inside you, cock jerking, flooding you with thick, hot spurts of cum.

He held you pinned there, buried to the hilt, making sure you took every last drop.

You shook in his arms, twitching, boneless.

He stayed like that, breathing hard against your neck, his cock still sheathed inside your spasming cunt.

He kissed your temple, breath shaky.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “My good fucking girl. Took all of it.”

You whimpered, pressing your forehead to his.

His hands caressed you slowly, thumb stroking your thigh where it was wrapped around him.

He didn’t rush to pull out.

He just stayed buried in you, letting you both come down, letting your cunt milk him for every last bit of heat he’d given you.

And when he finally carried you back to bed, lowering you onto the sheets, his cum still leaking from you, he kissed you tenderly.

Like you were the only thing in the world.

—

Your body was limp, boneless. You felt the wet smear of him between your thighs, hot and sticky on the sheets, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

Your lids felt impossibly heavy. You tried to fight it, blinking slow and sluggish.

“Mmh… Bucky, I’m—s’fucked up,” you mumbled, voice thick and slurred, the words tumbling clumsy and broken from your slack lips.

Your eyes only opened halfway before fluttering shut again.

Bucky let out a soft, breathless chuckle.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasped, voice hoarse but warm with amusement. “You are. Did say I was gonna fuck you so hard.”

You made a small, helpless noise of protest, shifting weakly on the sheets but barely moving.

He pressed one last kiss to your temple before pulling away carefully.

“Hold on,” he murmured.

You heard him pad to the bathroom, the water running briefly. He wet a face cloth just enough to make it damp and warm, squeezing it once before turning off the tap.

He came back to you immediately, dropping to one knee at the edge of the bed, eyes soft but focused.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he soothed.

He parted your thighs gently with one big hand, the other carefully wiping you clean.

You whimpered faintly at the contact, twitching once from oversensitivity, but you didn’t fight him.

“Shh,” he hushed you. “I know. Just cleaning you up.”

He was thorough but gentle, wiping away the messy streaks of his cum still dripping from your swollen, used cunt. He made sure you were as comfortable as he could make you, murmuring little reassurances under his breath.

Your breathing evened out, eyelids fluttering but too heavy to keep open.

“Mmh… i—sleep… you…” you tried again, the words falling apart, unintelligible.

But Bucky understood.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know, baby. Sleep.”

He tossed the dirty cloth aside onto the floor without caring, then crawled fully onto the bed beside you.

He settled on his back first, then turned onto his side to face you. His metal arm slid carefully under your neck like a pillow, the cool vibranium pressed against your flushed, overheated skin. His flesh arm curled around your waist, dragging you gently but firmly into his chest.

You melted instantly.

Your head rested on his shoulder, nose pressed to his throat, inhaling the raw, spent scent of sweat, sex, and his skin.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your hairline, nose buried in your damp hair.

His fingers found your hair at the back of your head and began to play with it slowly, combing through the strands to soothe you.

Your breathing slowed even more, going soft and steady.

He felt you go heavy in his arms.

“Good girl,” he whispered so quietly it was almost for himself.

Your lips parted, a final sleepy huff of breath warming his skin, and you went fully limp, finally out.

Bucky smiled.

He let his eyes drift shut, fingers still tangled in your hair, body wrapped around yours like a shield.

He could feel the faint wetness still smearing between your thighs, his cum still inside you.

The thought made something possessive and hungry coil in his gut, even through the exhaustion.

He sighed, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

Tomorrow.

There would be tomorrow.

Rounds. Plural.

He fell asleep knowing full well he was going to fuck you stupid all over again come morning.

[xoxojisu]

TIRED !

synopsis: katsuki starts to pull back and you wonder if he's just overwhelmed and tired, or maybe tired of you.

notes: just a short lil drabble <3 apologies ik ive alr written like this exact thing. but this time there's COMMUNICATION? IN A JISU FIC?? well tbf it doesn't happen right away but guys open communication is insane. gn reader!

you don’t know when it started. the shift.

maybe a week ago. maybe more.

but suddenly, katsuki’s kisses were shorter. distracted. his replies came late, if at all. and when you curled into him at night, he didn’t always curl back.

you tried not to overthink. he’s busy. he’s tired. he’s katsuki. always intense, always chasing something, and you knew that when you fell for him.

but sometimes, it’s hard not to wonder.

did i do something wrong?

you think you're the exception for him. you're his lover, after all. but you feel the doubt creep in during the smaller moments.

when you rest your head on his chest and he doesn't automatically put his arm around your waist in return. when you say "i love you" as an easy given and he grunts out a response you can't really make out. when you act sweet and lovey-dovey and he just sort of sits there, looking a little annoyed.

you start pulling back a little. just in case.

you don’t want to be annoying.

you hesitate before texting him first now. you wait for him to initiate touch, which he barely does. and when you finally say "goodnight, love you," he just grunts in response, already turned away in bed.

you stare at the ceiling long after, heart aching in that quiet, sharp way.

you used to fall asleep tangled in him. breathing him in and feeling so utterly loved. now you lie perfectly still, like your presence might be too much. thinking thoughts you'd never thought before, like: "maybe he doesn't like cuddling" and "should i sleep in my own room tonight?"

you shake your head. you're being stupid. insecure.

..but then again, he hasn’t kissed your forehead in days.

he hasn’t called you baby or sweetheart in that uncharacteristically soft voice.

he hasn’t looked at you with that soft gaze he used to save just for you.

you still bring him his water when he forgets it. still fix his uniform when it's out of place. still buy that cinnamon gum you don't even like that much but get because katsuki likes it.

and still, you wonder:

is he just tired?

or is he tired of me?

-

he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

that might be the worst part.

he doesn’t notice how he’s been pulling away. how the warmth in his touches has faded, how he’s stopped saying the soft things that used to slip out when he was too tired to keep his walls up. how you, who used to fit into him like something natural, now hover a few inches away.

he’s just been tired lately.

not the kind of tired a good nap can fix, but the kind that builds and builds and builds until even breathing feels like a task. training’s been brutal. pressure mounting. grades to maintain. responsibilities stacking one after the other until his brain buzzes like static.

and when katsuki gets overwhelmed, it overwhelms his entire being.

it doesn't happen super often. katsuki is determined and driven and he's got a heart of steel. he's not usually one to get swept up like this.

or at least, not anymore. not since you.

but when it does happen, he is overwhelmed in all senses of the word. he gets terrible tunnel vision and forgets to pay attention to his surroundings. all he can think of is hero work, and even that's a stretch. his brain is on constant low-functioning mode and he feels foggy all the time.

so, being so absorbed in himself, he didn’t see the way your smile faltered.

didn’t catch how you flinched. barely, but enough, when he brushed off your hands with a muttered, “not right now.”

didn't catch how you didn't automatically curl up into his side like usual when you'd sit down together, and so pulling you close and dispelling your doubt didn't even cross his mind.

didn't catch how you were slowly pulling back, physically and emotionally. didn't catch how you were starting to doubt yourself.

until he finally looked up.

until he goes to your dorm late, bags under his eyes, heart hammering from some training that went sideways, a little confused why you weren't in his dorm, and sees you in bed. on your side of it, even though he's not there, hugging your own pillow like it’s some kind of stand-in.

you wake at the sound of the door. you turn your head when he enters, give him that same soft smile you always do, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“hey,” you say. “you okay?”

he nods, robotic. “yeah. just tired.”

and you nod back. not pushing. not getting up. not offering a hug or kiss or teasing nudge like you always would.

and it hits him then. the quiet. the distance. the way your affection hasn’t smothered him lately. no, the way it hasn’t even touched him.

and he realizes:

you’ve stopped trying.

and he thinks, suddenly panicked, how did i let it get this bad?

he moves before he can talk himself out of it. just crawls into bed and pulls you into his chest, tight. arms locked around you like you might disappear if he hesitates.

you tense for half a second.

“…katsuki?”

he exhales, shuddering. like he’s been holding it in.

“i’ve been a shithead,” he mutters against your shoulder.

you blink.

“what?”

“i didn’t mean to make you feel like… like i didn’t want you. i do. i just…” he groans, frustrated with himself. “there’s been so much going on. and when things get loud in my head, i forget how to… be. i get overwhelmed and i shut down and i didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

your fingers curl into his hoodie slowly.

he doesn’t stop.

“you didn’t do anything wrong. i was so stupid and up in my own head that i didn't realize you were hurtin' and i think i fucked it up.”

you’re quiet for a beat.

then, softly, “you didn’t fuck it up.”

his arms tighten around you.

you turn in his embrace, nose bumping his, eyes searching.

“…i thought i was annoying you,” you admit. “like maybe i was too clingy. too much. so i started holding back. well, you already said that, so i guess you noticed.”

he closes his eyes like it hurts.

“don’t,” he breathes, feeling so guilty that it's gotten to this point. “please don’t hold back. not with me.”

“then don’t shut me out.”

“i’ won't. i promise. just.. fuck, 'm sorry. for real.”

you press your forehead to his.

“thank you. i love you.”

and this time, he says it back. and he rubs soothing circles on your back the way he knows you like. and he kisses your forehead. slow. deliberate. like he’s making up for every time he didn’t.

like he knows now.

and won’t forget again.

masterlist reblogs + comments super duper appreciated! <3

[afterheese]

The Plot Twist - Lee Heeseung x F!Reader x Nishimura Riki

They stole my header? Perfect. I needed a reason to outdo myself anyway.

You could already picture him with his dark, messy hair buried between your legs, that wicked mouth pulling you straight to heaven. A soft moan slipped out as you arched into the touch, eyelids fluttering open, ready to see him. But blonde? Heeseung wasn’t blonde.

content warnings - dark!Heeseung plus dark!Niki, noncon turned dubcon, forced oral, mean dom heeseung, needy niki, threesome, hair pulling, degradation, creampie, breeding kink, lots of dirty talk.

word count - 3.4k

Heeseung was the picture-perfect boyfriend. Dependable, sweet, the kind of guy who remembered your coffee order and actually asked about your day and he listened. You could count on him for anything. Need a ride at 2 a.m.? He was there. Forgot your umbrella? He’d show up with two, just in case. Honestly, you had zero complaints. Well…almost zero.

There was just one thing you couldn’t stand. A single, stubborn splinter in your otherwise pristine boyfriend fantasy and that was his friends. God, his friends.

And at the center of that circus was Ni-ki. That little shit. The human embodiment of a group chat you wish you could mute. He had this uncanny talent for showing up uninvited, inserting himself into every conversation like he was the main character, and delivering sarcasm like it was his full-time job.

He wasn’t just annoying. He was the kind of annoying that made you want to pray for patience and punch a pillow all simultaneously.

No matter how perfect Heeseung was, every time Ni-ki opened his mouth, you found yourself questioning your life choices... and your boyfriend’s taste in people.

At first, Ni-ki was kind of shy around you…which, honestly, you chalked up to nerves. You were, after all, the first real girlfriend to be introduced to the group. The others? Mostly flings, a few questionable hook-ups, and one girl whose name no one could quite remember. But you? You were different. Official. And maybe that threw him off?

You figured the age thing might help. You were closer to Ni-ki than the others in that regard, so you tried. Really tried. You made the effort, you brought up games he liked, asked about movies, even tried laughing at one of his half-hearted anime impressions. But he made it weird. Like weird-weird.

Backhanded compliments that felt less like icebreakers and more like ice picks. You assumed he was just socially awkward, maybe trying to be funny in that clumsy, teenage-boy way. But after a while, the pattern became clear: he only acted that way with you.

And that’s when it hit you. Ni-ki didn’t like you.

Heeseung, bless his rose-colored-glasses heart, kept reassuring you. “That’s just how Ni-ki is,” he’d say, like that explained the passive-aggressive snipes or the exaggerated sighs every time you joined in a conversation. Still, you gave it your best. You showed up. You engaged. You offered thoughtful commentary on his favorite games only to be met with a shrug and a “that’s not really your genre, is it?”

So, eventually… you stopped trying.

You kept your opinions to yourself. Sat a little quieter when he was around. Smiled politely but stopped reaching out. And funny enough? it got worse.

The backhanded compliments stopped, which should’ve been a win. But instead of mellowing out, Ni-ki leveled up. He went full-blown sarcasm bitch on you.

Now, if you asked something as innocent as, “Hey, can we go see that new movie this weekend?” he’d hit you with a deadpan: “Can you?” Like he was your parole officer and you’d just violated a condition of your release. It drove you absolutely mad.

You started fantasizing about flipping a table. Or smacking him with the remote. Or both. You could practically hear your inner voice narrating, “And that’s when she snapped, Judge.”

But you didn’t.

Because no matter how much Ni-ki grated on your nerves with that sandpaper wrapped in smugness shit, he was Heeseung’s best friend. And you didn’t want to be that girlfriend. The one who came in and started issuing ultimatums. Me or you friends? yeah you didn’t want to be one of those. So, you left it alone.

Grinned. Bared it. Tried to summon your inner zen. And when that didn’t work? You thought happy thoughts. Really happy thoughts. Like Ni-ki accidentally walking into oncoming traffic. Just... hypothetically, of course. 

Which brings us to tonight, it was supposed to be movie night. Just you, your boyfriend, and the latest horror flick that promised more actual scares than jumpscares. You had your oversized hoodie on, a throw blanket ready to swaddle yourself like a human burrito, and a bowl of popcorn nestled perfectly in your lap. It was supposed to be perfect. Just the two of you.

So when there was a knock on the door, you prayed to every god in the universe that it was the pizza. But the gods? Yeah, kindness isn’t really their thing. So when you saw the smile. That smile. That specific smile Heeseung threw over his shoulder as he headed for the door. The one that said he already knew who it was. The one that made your stomach sink faster than a doomed horror movie protagonist walking into a dark basement.

Your hopes didn’t just die. They spontaneously combusted. Because you just knew. This wasn’t a pizza delivery. This was a Ni-ki situation. And suddenly, the horror movie wasn’t the scariest thing on the agenda.

He walked in smiling like he hadn’t just crashed your night. Like the evening hadn’t been reserved for you, your boyfriend, and a horror movie. Ni-ki strolled through the door with all the confidence of someone who’d been invited which, apparently, he had. He shot you a smirk. Not his usual smirk, either. This one was… new. Sharper and that threw you off more than it should have. Then, the real plot twist: he greeted you.

“Hey,” he said, casual as anything. You just stared at him. He’d never greeted you before. Not unless you counted eye rolls and monosyllabic grunts. Still slightly stunned, you murmured, “Hi,” back.

Heeseung came up behind you, kissed your cheek in that soft, boyfriend-y way that always made your pulse do a double take, and mumbled, “He didn’t have plans and felt kinda lonely, so I invited him last minute. Hope you don’t mind.”

You minded. Oh, you definitely minded.

But you played it cool because that’s who you were: composed, understanding, non-possessive girlfriend of the year. (You’d like your award mailed, thanks.) Ni-ki made himself right at home on the couch, plopping down beside you like he paid rent. You gave him the most olympic-level side-eye you could manage without moving your head.

Then, when Heeseung sat down on your other side, you snuggled in close. Partly for warmth. Mostly for territorial reasons. Heeseung smiled at you, soft and dimpled and devastating. Damn it. That smile made your knees weak even when you were sitting.

The movie started playing. Ni-ki reached for popcorn like he hadn’t just invaded your peace. And you? You prayed the horror on screen would be more tolerable than the one sitting beside you. 

Watching the movie with Ni-ki turned out to be… surprisingly bearable.

He didn’t say much (that was a miracle of miracles) unless the main character made one of those painfully dumb horror-movie choices. You know, the kind where someone hears a noise in the basement and decides to investigate alone with a flickering flashlight and zero survival instinct. And, to be fair, his commentary was kind of funny. Begrudgingly.

For a while, it was almost... nice. But then the masked killer was revealed, and just like that, the tension flatlined. No more mystery. No more suspense. Just a long, slow unraveling of plot and blood.

You got bored. Your eyelids started staging a protest. And before you knew it, your head was on Heeseung’s shoulder, your body tucked into his side, wrapped in his warmth like the safest little burrito on earth.

He didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Just let you stay curled against him, arm around you like he was guarding your dreams. And in that moment, Ni-ki and his sarcasm, the movie, the whole weird energy of the night… it all faded. Because Heeseung made you feel safe. Which, frankly, was better than any plot twist the movie could’ve offered.

You were floating in a dreamless haze when you felt it your stomach tightening, a slow, delicious heat coiling low. Something was happening to you, but your mind was too foggy to figure out why. Then, the sensation of hands, warm and knowing, sliding up your thighs. Oh. Your breath hitched. Heeseung.

You could already picture him..his dark, fluffy hair between your legs, that sinful mouth of his dragging you to heaven. A soft moan escaped you as you arched into the touch, your eyelids fluttering open, expecting to see him.

But—blonde hair? Heeseung wasn’t blonde.

Your brain short-circuited. You tried to sit up. Key word: tried because the second you moved, strong arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you flush against a firm chest. A familiar, honey-sweet voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Just relax, baby. Let Niki make that pretty pussy come.”

Your entire body burned. “H-Heeseung—what the hell—” But your protest melted into a breathless moan as Niki’s tongue dragged over you, slow and filthy, unraveling you inch by inch.

Heeseung chuckled against your neck, his grip possessive. “Shh, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for us.” His lips brushed your pulse point, his voice dropping to that sinful, sweet-dirty rasp that always made you weak. “Look at you, taking Niki so well… Bet you didn’t even know you could feel so good, huh?”

You whimpered, fingers twisting in the couch. Niki groaned against you, his hands digging into your hips like he was starving. “Fuck—so perfect. Can’t get enough.”

"Niki, stop—please."

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he kisses your thigh again, his lips warm and insistent. "Baby," he murmurs, his voice deep, rough with want. "The way your body’s reacting… I can’t help myself. I wanna see you fall apart." His dark eyes drag down your body, slow, possessive, and all you can manage is a weak, "Huh?" breathless, already unraveling.

When you realize you can’t get through to him, you turn your head, seeking Heeseung. "Heeseung—what the fuck are you doing? Stop him—" Your words break between moans, shaky and desperate.

But Heeseung just smiles, sweet and sinful. "I’ve wanted to watch him fuck you for so long," he admits, his voice honey-thick, fingers brushing your cheek. "And this? God, it’s more than I ever dreamed."

You trembled, caught between the velvet pull of his voice and the relentless drag of Niki’s mouth between your thighs. Your protests had long since dissolved into breathless moans, your body betraying you completely.

Heeseung’s hand slid up to your throat. “You feel that?” he whispered into your ear. “How your body’s trembling?  That’s need. Craving. You want this. You’re mine, and I’m giving you to him. Doesn’t that turn you on?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, but your hips said otherwise rocking up, chasing every sinful flick of Niki’s tongue. You could feel him smile against you, cocky and starving.

“Such a fucking dream,” Niki groaned, his voice muffled against your skin. “Tastes like sin… like she’s meant to be ruined.” His tongue curled again, and you cried out, your fingers clawing at the cushions, the pleasure too much.

“Heeseung,” you gasped, trying to hold on to something—anything. “Please, I���I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he crooned, one hand cupping your cheek, the other trailing down to your chest, brushing over your nipples with maddening care. “You’ll come when I say, just like always. You know that, right?”

You nodded helplessly, already falling apart.

“Good girl,” he purred, kissing the shell of your ear. “Now stay still. Let Niki taste every fucking drop. I want to see you lose yourself, right here in his mouth with my hands on your throat so you remember who owns you.”

The words hit you harder than any touch, unraveling you completely. Your body writhed between them, Niki’s grip bruising, Heeseung’s voice the only anchor as your climax built.

Your glossy eyes stare up at him, pleading, but he just leans in, pressing a soft gentle kiss to your lips but underneath it, that unspoken truth: You don’t have a choice in this. He moved his mouth to your ear, his words a velvet caress. "You look so pretty like this, baby. You have no idea how good you are for us, do you?"

"Why don’t we put that mouth to use?" Heeseung murmured, sweet as honey, before his grip turned cruel. He stood abruptly, sending you tumbling back onto the couch, dragging you to the edge until your head hung over the armrest. Your pulse throbbed in your throat.

Niki groaned when you were pulled away from him, but he didn’t stay gone long his mouth found your pussy again like it was the last thing he’d ever taste. "Fuck, you’re so wet," he muttered against you, needy, desperate, his tongue working in filthy, practiced circles.

Heeseung loomed above you, upside down from your vantage point, all sharp angles and dark eyes. Even like this, even when you wished things were different your body betrayed you. He looked good, and the way he gripped your jaw made your breath hitch. "Open," he said, sweetly at first, almost coaxing. Then, as soon as you obeyed, his voice dropped to something rougher. "That’s it. Take it."

He slid into your mouth with a shuddering groan, his fingers tightening in your hair. The stretch of him on your tongue, the way Niki was devouring you between your thighs it was all too much. You came with a muffled cry, shaking, and Heeseung let out a dark laugh.

Your glossy eyes stared up at Heeseung, silently begging but he only smiled, tender and cruel, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. It should have felt kind. But it didn’t. It felt like a promise.

A promise that you had no say in what came next.

"You look so pretty like this, baby," he whispered into your ear, his voice like silk over steel. "You have no idea how good you are for us, do you?"

Your breath stuttered in your chest.

"Why don’t we put that mouth to use?" Heeseung murmured, all honeyed affection, but his grip turned brutal in the next instant. He stood and yanked you down with him, letting your body collapse back against the couch. Before you could catch your breath, he dragged you by the hips until your head hung over the armrest, disoriented, dizzy, pulse hammering in your throat.

Niki groaned in protest when you were pulled from his mouth, but he didn’t stay away for long. His hands returned to your thighs, spreading them open again like a gift he wasn’t done unwrapping. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered, reverent and ravenous, as if he hadn’t just had you moments ago. “You’re making a mess, baby.”

Above you, Heeseung loomed, shadowed in golden light. From your upside-down vantage, he looked even more dangerous those sharp cheekbones, that dark stare, those lips quirked in something cruel and so pleased. Even now, even when you knew you should resist, your body begged for more. And Heeseung knew it.

“Open,” he said, voice warm, coaxing. You did because obedience had become instinct. But the second your mouth parted, his voice dropped into something darker. “That’s it baby take it.”

He slid past your lips with a hissed curse, thick and hot on your tongue, and your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers tangled in your hair, anchoring you. He didn't thrust. Not at first. He just held you there as you gagged on him.

Because Heeseung liked to watch you struggle. He liked to see the tears slip from the corners of your eyes as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering helplessly around him. “Good fucking girl,” he groaned, hips rocking slow and deep. “Fuck, you were made for this.” And then Niki’s tongue curled just right, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still and the orgasm slammed into you like a train.

Your scream was muffled around Heeseung’s cock, your entire body tensing, then trembling as wave after wave of pleasure shattered through you.

Heeseung laughed low and dark, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, his thumb stroking over your lips. “Look at that—coming with your mouth full. God, you’re perfect.”

Niki didn’t stop. Heeseung didn’t stop. You couldn’t think, you could only feel.

"God, I love fucking this mouth," he growled, thrusting deeper, making you gag. His sweetness was gone now, replaced by something meaner, hungrier. "Look at you—can’t even breathe, can you? But you’ll take it. You always do."

You felt Niki shift beneath you, his hands gripping your hips, pressing closer. "You can fuck her," Heeseung panted, never slowing the brutal pace of his hips, "but you don’t get to come inside her. That’s for me. Understand?"

Niki whined against your skin as he slipped inside you. 

Heeseung’s fingers twisted tighter in your hair, forcing your throat to arch, your mouth to stretch wider around him. The salt-bitter taste of him flooded your senses, his hips snapping forward with a rhythm that left no room for gentleness. Your eyes watered, lashes sticking together, but he didn’t let up just watched, dark satisfaction curling his lips as your body struggled to take him.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice rough as gravel. "Look at you—can’t even fucking think, can you?"

You couldn’t. Not with Niki fucking you, his hands digging into your hips as he thrust up into you, his mouth still wet from where he’d been licking you open. Every drag of him inside you was electric, too much and not enough, your nerves alight with the kind of pleasure that bordered on pain.

Heeseung’s thumb pressed against your chin, forcing your jaw wider. "Deeper," he ordered, and when you choked, he only groaned, his free hand sliding down to grip your throat, feeling the way he stretched you. "Fuck, you’re perfect like this."

Niki’s breath hitched against your stomach, his fingers bruising as he held you in place. "She’s close," he panted, voice wrecked. "I can feel it—fuck, she’s squeezing me so tight—"

"I know," Heeseung said, his own voice strained. "But she doesn’t come until I say." His grip on your hair yanked your head back, forcing your gaze up to his. "You hear me? You hold it. You take what I give you."

You whimpered around him, your body trembling on the edge, every muscle coiled tight. Niki’s thrusts turned erratic, his control slipping, but Heeseung’s free hand shot down, fingers digging into Niki’s shoulder. "I said," Heeseung growled, "you don’t come inside her."

Niki let out a broken noise but obeyed, pulling out at the last second, spilling against your thigh with a shudder. Heeseung’s laugh was low, pleased. Heeseung pulls out of your mouth, and you gasp, struggling to catch your breath but the air rushes right back out when his hands clamp down on your hips, fingers biting into your skin. Your legs dangle uselessly before hooking around his waist, dragging him closer.

"That’s it," he murmurs, sweet as honey, brushing your hair back. Then, just as your lips part to sigh, his voice drops, dark and rough "Hold on tight, baby. Gonna ruin you." He slams into you, filling the empty space Niki left behind, and your vision whites out. His rhythm is punishing, hips driving into you like he’s chasing something, like he’s angry. 

"You like that?" Heeseung’s voice is a taunt now, fingers digging bruises into your thighs. "Like being fucked like this? Like a cheap little thing?" You whimper, nodding, but he snarls, "Say it."

"Y-yes—" "Yes, what?" He swats your hip, sharp enough to sting. "Yes, I like it—" "She loves it," Niki cuts in from behind you, voice dripping with something filthy. You try to turn, but Heeseung shoves you back down onto the couch. It creaks beneath you, the fabric rough against your back., his grip possessive.

"Eyes on me," he orders. "You don’t need him. You need this." His thrusts turn erratic, brutal. "Gonna come inside you, mark you up so good—you want that?" You’re babbling now, nails scraping his shoulders. "Please, Heeseung, please—" "Fuck," he groans, and then he’s spilling into you, hot and claiming, his breath ragged against your neck.

Besides you, Niki lets out a low, needy laugh. "Guess I’m cleaning up his mess again." Heeseung’s lips curl against your skin sweet once more, almost tender. "Should I let the rest of the boys use you," he coos. "Fuck I think I’m gonna call them."