#i can just imagine her sitting with the receipts 😭

[rookthorne]

The warnings got me-

“Can it be Christmas time in like—” Bucky glanced at his clock and groaned, “—two more hours?” 

He is literally me 🤣

When you heard the shower turn on, you slipped into the bathroom. 

“Are you joining me?” Bucky peeked around the curtain. 

SO HOPEFUL

“No time,” you shook your head. “I’m fixing my hair so I don’t look ratchet in the pictures I know you’re going to take when you think I’m not looking.”

BAHAHAHA you are busted, Bucky! 🤣

After you were pleased with your hair, you quickly changed into the matching Christmas pajamas that you had bought for you and Bucky. They were the most obnoxious ones you could find—bright green with little Santas and elves printed all over.

Bucky hadn’t slept much either, and while he would have preferred to celebrate his first real Christmas in decades at a more decent hour, the ridiculous pajamas had instantly lifted his mood. He didn’t fully understand how ugly pajamas made him love you more, but it did.

they are goals 🥹

After realizing how much you had done to make his Christmas special, he wanted to do the same for you. Never getting gifts from Santa just didn’t sit right with him—even during the Depression, his parents always made sure he had at least one gift to open from Santa. 

Had he gone a little overboard? Maybe, but you deserved it. 

NO SUCH THING AS OVERBOARD 🥹

You gave him an amused smile and went to pick up the large red envelope sitting on one of the boxes. “I’m sorry I missed you all those years. Hope this makes up for it. Merry Christmas, Santa Claus.” 

my heart is gonna BURST OH MY GOD 😭😭😭

Tears weren’t the reaction he had imagined last night as he piled the gifts under the tree. Your hips grinding against him definitely wasn’t what he had expected.

As Bucky sat on the floor next to you, you tore into the paper excitedly. You opened the box to find a very interesting purse. You tried to hide the immediate frown that started to form, but you weren't quick enough; you could see Bucky’s disappointment already. 

oh no

“It’s okay if you don’t like it—I saved the receipt.” 

OH NO

Bucky sighed and looked away, embarrassed. “I wanted to get you something unexpected, and I was clueless, and I asked Nicki to help, and she said you’d like it—” Bucky paused his rambling when you laughed loudly. “What?”

he’s so oblivious it’s almost painful

You giggled and slid onto the floor to sit next to him. “No, I wanna keep it. I love it because it’s from you.” 

oh he’s so adorable

I would parade around wearing it while staring at her

“Really,” you leaned in to kiss him lightly, never stopping as you talked. “I’ll keep it forever and pass it down to our daughter; it’ll be a good story—oh shit.” You sat back as if Bucky’s lips had electrocuted you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. Oh my god.” Your face was burning red as you tried to get off the floor and escape your embarrassment. 

👀👀👀

Bucky pulled you back down to him and held your face in his hands. “It’ll be a great story to tell our kids and grandkids.” 

“I wasn’t sure what you had caught up on already, but the guy at the hipster bookstore you like–yes, I had Yelena follow you one day–said these were the most popular books from the past few decades. I tried to get the oldest copies I could find–vintage, like you.” You smiled softly, sitting next to him as he pulled the books from the box. 

YELENA GODDAMMIT 🤣🤣🤣

“A key? For what?” 

…Haylie

A sleek white motorcycle with intricate black and gold detailing was parked right in front of his building. 

HAYLIE!

You laughed at how Bucky’s head whipped back and forth between you and the window. The idea had come to you weeks ago; Bucky didn’t have a fancy superhero outfit, he couldn’t fly around like Sam, and he didn’t have fancy cars like Nat used to. You wanted him to have his own signature, and no one could miss this bike. 

“All yours, White Wolf,” you wrapped your arms around him from behind. “Do you like it?” 

“It’s fucking perfect, holy shit,” Bucky tore his eyes away from the window to stare at you in amazement. “Sam’s gonna be so jealous–I don’t care that he can fly–this is better. Can we go for a ride?” 

OKAY OKAY OKAY

MY HEART 😭😭😭

(Bucky and Sam are gonna race each other I can feel it, it has to happen)

Bucky pulled your in for a kiss, but you thwarted him. “There's still gifts to open, don’t distract me.” 

😏😏😏

Bucky thumbed through the little book, picking a random page to read from. “One free massage–clothes optional.” Bucky smiled wryly as realization sunk in. “There are some, um, interesting things in here, doll.”

HA HA 😈

I would like him to redeem them pls

“Everything is perfect, doll. I—it’s been so long since anyone bought me anything. I’m a bit overwhelmed at how thoughtful these gifts are.” 

“We’re just a pair of saps today, aren’t we?” You stroked his hair as you looked at each other misty-eyed. 

don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry

Inside was a very fancy-looking knife. The handle was black and gold, the pattern the same as Bucky’s vibranium arm. The blade was shaped like a canto knife, but something was slightly off.

I just fell in love.

You shrugged and leaned down to his lips. “I was thinking that I would fuck my boyfriend, really dirty and loud so that bitch next door knows who he belongs to—and to thank him for the best Christmas of my entire life.” 

“Fucking hell,” Bucky muttered to himself, head tipped back before snapping it up and giving you the cocky look the role called for. “You’re my best girl, doll.” 

oh hello there second heartbeat what’re you doin’

“Feel so good, baby girl, a fuckin’ dream,” Bucky grunted as he started to thrust as slowly as he could. 

THIS IS AN ATTACK AND I DEMAND YOU DON’T STOP

“Talk to me–tell me how bad you need it, or I’ll stop.” 

DON’T YOU DARE

“Christ,” Bucky muttered, his jaw visibly clenching. “What’s gotten into you?” 

fucking HELL I can hear it and picture it and it is hazardous to my HEALTH

“Is that what you want, baby girl?” He leaned down to your ear, pushing your thigh up to get even deeper in you. “Want me to fill up this tight little cunt?” 

I AM GONNA SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP FOR PAYBACK, HAYLIE, YA BITCH

“Pretty little pussy’s taking it so well–I’m so deep, baby girl, fuck–take it, fucking take it.” 

ILLEGAL! HORNY JAIL FOR YOU!

Bucky’s face twisted as his dick became too sensitive. “Fuck, doll st–stop. Too much,” he groaned out. “Can’t stop cumming–it won’t stop, fuck!”  

I almost lost my shit here oh my god

“Oh,” Bucky poked his head back into the bathroom. “And we are definitely talking about this daddy thing—don’t think you’re getting away with that.” 

okay daddy 😈

she’s gonna say it to rile him up from now on isn’t she

she better

Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 14

Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader

18+ ONLY

Summary: You and Bucky have finally made it to Christmas! Fluff and filthy smut lie ahead! (This chapter has been slightly edited based on that Christmas smut request I got!)

Warnings: Dom Bucky, daddy kink, breeding kink, lot's of cum (don't look at me, you guys asked for it okay!)

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Christmas Day

You woke up early; you had barely slept, too excited about the last-minute gift you had managed to secure for Bucky. He was dozing peacefully, and you felt only a smidge of guilt as you coaxed him awake. 

“What time is it? He grumbled, rolling onto his back and putting his arm over his eyes. 

“It’s Christmas time!” You bounced on the bed and shook his shoulder. 

“Can it be Christmas time in like—” Bucky glanced at his clock and groaned, “—two more hours?” 

“No being grumpy on Christmas, you little Grinch, come on!” 

You felt his concession as his muscles relaxed, and he allowed you to pull him up to a sitting position. 

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered as he kissed you. “Can I at least shower before we start?” 

“Your first gift is waiting for you in the bathroom.” You smiled and nodded, slyly scanning his body to check his wounds. Satisfied that he was essentially fully healed, you gave him a quick kiss before letting him up. 

“Suspicious,” Bucky hummed and got up. “I’ll be quick.” 

When you heard the shower turn on, you slipped into the bathroom. 

“Are you joining me?” Bucky peeked around the curtain. 

“No time,” you shook your head. “I’m fixing my hair so I don’t look ratchet in the pictures I know you’re going to take when you think I’m not looking.” 

“Fine,” Bucky said with a pout before disappearing behind the curtain again. 

After you were pleased with your hair, you quickly changed into the matching Christmas pajamas that you had bought for you and Bucky. They were the most obnoxious ones you could find—bright green with little Santas and elves printed all over. You sat on the bed, a giddy smile on your face, and waited for Bucky to come out of the bathroom. 

“Really don’t think this is my color, doll.” 

Bucky stepped out of the bathroom with the most adorably annoyed look on his face. You grabbed your side as you fell into a fit of laughter. 

Bucky crossed his arms in an attempt to look put off. “And now you’re laughing at me.” 

“No, no—” you tried to stop laughing, “—you look very sexy.” 

“At least we’re matching, though you don’t look nearly as ridiculous as I do.” Bucky finally smiled, and such a simple action had your heart racing, making you regret not getting in that shower. 

Bucky held out his hand, pulling you into a tight hug. “Come on, let’s go see what Santa brought you.”

Bucky hadn’t slept much either, and while he would have preferred to celebrate his first real Christmas in decades at a more decent hour, the ridiculous pajamas had instantly lifted his mood. He didn’t fully understand how ugly pajamas made him love you more, but it did. He squeezed your hand as you rounded the corner, suddenly a little nervous about the large pile of gifts that had magically appeared under the small tree. 

“Buck—what��where did these come from?” 

He felt his face go slightly pink as you gaped up at him, waiting on an answer.

After realizing how much you had done to make his Christmas special, he wanted to do the same for you. Never getting gifts from Santa just didn’t sit right with him—even during the Depression, his parents always made sure he had at least one gift to open from Santa. 

Had he gone a little overboard? Maybe, but you deserved it. 

Bucky shrugged. “Beats me. Looks like there's a note.” 

You gave him an amused smile and went to pick up the large red envelope sitting on one of the boxes. “I’m sorry I missed you all those years. Hope this makes up for it. Merry Christmas, Santa Claus.” 

Bucky wrapped his arms around you from behind, squeezing you gently. 

“Buck, I—I don’t know what to say.” 

“Don’t cry,” Bucky whispered when he felt your slight shaking. “Merry Christmas, doll.” 

You turned around in his arms and almost knocked him to the floor with the force of your kiss. Bucky stumbled backward as he caught you and let you wrap your legs and arms around him. Your salty tears ran down your cheeks and over your connected lips. Tears weren’t the reaction he had imagined last night as he piled the gifts under the tree. Your hips grinding against him definitely wasn’t what he had expected. He forced himself to pull his face away.

“You don’t even know what’s in the boxes yet,” he said breathlessly. 

“Doesn’t matter,” you murmured against his skin as you sucked marks on his neck. “Fucking love you so much. You’re perfect. So perfect.” You moved your hands from around his neck to his face and pulled his lips back to yours. 

“Okay, okay—” Bucky made himself stop kissing you and sat you down in the one chair in the living room. “I love you too, but I really want you to open your gifts.” 

You were grinning from ear to ear. “Okay, Santa—but first—” you reached for the remote and used your phone to play your Christmas playlist through the tv speakers. 

“Now everything’s perfect.” You kissed him one last time before you let him go to bring you a present to open. 

“This one is from me.” Bucky handed you the first gift. 

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but your excited smile never faltered. 

As Bucky sat on the floor next to you, you tore into the paper excitedly. You opened the box to find a very interesting purse. You tried to hide the immediate frown that started to form, but you weren't quick enough; you could see Bucky’s disappointment already. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like it—I saved the receipt.” 

You turned to him with a pitying smile. “No, Bucky—I love it. It’s very—yellow.” 

Bucky sighed and looked away, embarrassed. “I wanted to get you something unexpected, and I was clueless, and I asked Nicki to help, and she said you’d like it—” Bucky paused his rambling when you laughed loudly. “What?”

“Oh, Bucky, you poor sweet innocent man,” you squeezed his cheeks as he looked up at you, completely confused. “Nicki does not like me.” 

Bucky tilted his head as if this was news to him.

“Bucky—she is totally into you. So don’t take this personally when I tell you that she picked the most god-awful purse in the entire store on purpose.” 

“Seriously? I—I had no idea. Fuck, we can take it back.” 

You giggled and slid onto the floor to sit next to him. “No, I wanna keep it. I love it because it’s from you.” 

“Really?” Bucky smiled again and held your hand. 

“Really,” you leaned in to kiss him lightly, never stopping as you talked. “I’ll keep it forever and pass it down to our daughter; it’ll be a good story—oh shit.” You sat back as if Bucky’s lips had electrocuted you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. Oh my god.” Your face was burning red as you tried to get off the floor and escape your embarrassment. 

Bucky pulled you back down to him and held your face in his hands. “It’ll be a great story to tell our kids and grandkids.” 

You stared into his eyes, looking for any hint of regret, of panic, any sign that he was about to get the hell away from your crazy ass. You had barely been together a few weeks, and you were talking about kids, for crying out loud. But all you found was complete adoration and devotion—you hadn’t fucked it up like you was always afraid you would. 

“Time for you to open one of your gifts.” You kissed his cheek and went to the tree to pick up a large, heavy box. “Sit, I got it,” you huffed, dropping the package at Bucky’s feet. 

Bucky opened it curiously, smiling when he found two piles of books inside. 

“I wasn’t sure what you had caught up on already, but the guy at the hipster bookstore you like–yes, I had Yelena follow you one day–said these were the most popular books from the past few decades. I tried to get the oldest copies I could find–vintage, like you.” You smiled softly, sitting next to him as he pulled the books from the box. 

“I love it–I–you could have just asked, though,” Bucky snickered. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise! This one's my favorite,” you picked up an early edition of The Great Gatsby. 

Bucky pulled you into his lap, kissing your temple as he watched you thumb through the pages. “I’ve actually read this one. Why is it your favorite?” 

You shrugged, placing the book back with the rest. “I guess as a poor, lonely teenager, I just liked the glitz and glamor.”

Bucky nudged your chin toward him for a kiss, but you jumped up, searching for his second gift.

“Open this one next.” You placed a much smaller box in his waiting hands.

“A key? For what?” 

You nodded toward the kitchen window. Bucky gave you an exasperated look before jumping up to see what was outside. 

A sleek white motorcycle with intricate black and gold detailing was parked right in front of his building. 

“Holy shit, you–how–it’s mine?” 

You laughed at how Bucky’s head whipped back and forth between you and the window. The idea had come to you weeks ago; Bucky didn’t have a fancy superhero outfit, he couldn’t fly around like Sam, and he didn’t have fancy cars like Nat used to. You wanted him to have his own signature, and no one could miss this bike. 

“All yours, White Wolf,” you wrapped your arms around him from behind. “Do you like it?” 

“It’s fucking perfect, holy shit,” Bucky tore his eyes away from the window to stare at you in amazement. “Sam’s gonna be so jealous–I don’t care that he can fly–this is better. Can we go for a ride?” 

Your heart was whole. His complete and total happiness nearly knocked you to the floor. 

“Of course, anything you want, baby.” 

Bucky pulled your in for a kiss, but you thwarted him. “There's still gifts to open, don’t distract me.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes but followed you back to the Christmas tree. “Okay, but you’re opening one now.” 

You surveyed the pile of gifts and chose one wrapped in sparkly red paper. Bucky sat across from you on the floor as you tore it open. 

“Clothes? You are brave–or did Yelena help you pick it out?” 

Bucky shook his head with a laugh, “trust me, you don’t want her helping me in that department. And this is from Santa, remember?” 

You pulled a black, fuzzy lounge set out of the box. “You’re right; you don’t need help. This is perfect.” 

“Perfect for cuddling.” 

“One more for you,” you placed a small package in his open palm. 

“A coupon book; did you make this?” 

You nodded, curling up next to him. 

Bucky thumbed through the little book, picking a random page to read from. “One free massage–clothes optional.” Bucky smiled wryly as realization sunk in. “There are some, um, interesting things in here, doll.”

You matched his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Sarge,” you whispered in his ear, “I'll teach you anything you don’t know.”

“Can I kiss you now?” Bucky swallowed thickly.

“A quick one.” You smiled. 

“Everything is perfect, doll. I—it’s been so long since anyone bought me anything. I’m a bit overwhelmed at how thoughtful these gifts are.” 

“We’re just a pair of saps today, aren’t we?” You stroked his hair as you looked at each other misty-eyed. 

“That’s okay; I think we deserve it.”

“Damn right.”

Bucky felt like he might burst at the seams as he watched you open the various gifts he had gotten you from “Santa.” They were nothing big or expensive, just little things he thought you’d enjoy or that reminded him of you. Your favorite candy (sour skittles), a box of mini vodka bottles, a new case for your phone, and a small photo album, half full of pictures Bucky had taken of the two of you over the past few months. You looked at every gift like it was the most precious thing you had ever seen; you never stopped smiling. And Bucky knew his new purpose in life was to spend every moment putting that look on your face. 

You  were both sitting on the floor, surrounded by bits of wrapping paper and tissue and empty boxes. Bucky didn’t think he could smile any more than he had that morning, and there was still one package left. 

“This is another one from me. I think you’ll like it a lot better than the purse.” 

“No help from Nicki on this one?” You shook the box by your ear. 

“Nope, all me.”

Inside was a very fancy-looking knife. The handle was black and gold, the pattern the same as Bucky’s vibranium arm. The blade was shaped like a canto knife, but something was slightly off. You picked it up carefully and appraised it. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out in awe. 

“It’s custom made—obviously. The blade is one of a kind. If you ever have to use it—they’ll know it was you.” 

You grinned and twirled the knife in your hand. “It’s perfect; I love it. I hope I don’t have to kill anyone with it—it’s too pretty.” 

Bucky chuckled and leaned back on his elbows to watch you play with the knife. He should have known that this was a much better gift than the stupid purse. 

“I don’t know what your plans are now–if you’re still going to be going on missions. But if you do, this way, you’ll have something to remind you of me while you’re away.” 

You put the knife away and climbed into Bucky’s lap. “That’s very sweet.” 

Bucky laid back on the scattered wrapping paper and rubbed your hips. “So, what are you going to do now?” 

You shrugged and leaned down to his lips. “I was thinking that I would fuck my boyfriend, really dirty and loud so that bitch next door knows who he belongs to—and to thank him for the best Christmas of my entire life.” 

“I meant job-wise, but that sounds pretty good.” Bucky’s eyes were already screwed shut as you attacked his neck and started taking his pajamas off. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” You tugged his earlobe with your teeth, and his whole body erupted with goosebumps. “You can have anything you want–do whatever you want.”

Bucky tried to contain his groan as you swiveled your hips over his clothed erection. Of course, he knew immediately what he wanted to ask for–he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the last time in the hallway. 

“Bucky,” you smoothed out the worry line between his brows with a kiss. “I’m serious; whatever you want, just tell me.” 

Bucky sat up, slowly undoing the buttons of your ridiculous pajama top. “I’ll tell you, but we don't have to if you don’t want to.”

You squirmed in his lap in excitement; he grabbed your hip hard to make you stop. 

“Last time–” Bucky kissed your collar bone as he gently pushed the shirt off your shoulders. “We didn’t use a condom.” 

You opened your eyes, looked slightly surprised, and Bucky blushed as he started to panic.

“I know it was a spur of the moment thing, but–”

“Yes.”

“What?” Bucky blinked a few times, his hands frozen at your sides. 

“Yes, I want you–” you slowly rocked your hips against him. “It’s okay; I’m clean, you can’t get sick–and I’m on birth control.” 

Some worry melted from Bucky’s face, quickly replaced by pure excitement. “Fuck, are you sure?” His sentence trailed off as he watched you stand up and slowly pull your pajama shorts down. He quickly pulled his own off to catch up with your state of undress. 

You sat back down in his lap, wrapping your hand around his throbbing cock. “Please, Sarge? Wanna be your good girl.” 

“Fucking hell,” Bucky muttered to himself, head tipped back before snapping it up and giving you the cocky look the role called for. “You’re my best girl, doll.” 

You shivered as Bucky pushed you off his lap and onto your back. The crinkle of tissue paper filled the air as he maneuvered you into the position he wanted–one leg wrapped around his waist, the other around the back of his neck. 

“You gonna take it like my best girl, huh?” 

You arched your back, nodding urgently as Bucky teased the fat head of his cock across your folds. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the last time either. You both had been so rushed and frantic that neither of you fully appreciated the feeling of being so close. You hadn’t been able to fully appreciate Bucky claiming you in a way that no one else had. 

“Are you with me, doll?” Bucky brushed your hair back, waiting for you to open your eyes again. 

“Yes, please, I need it, Sarge.” 

Bucky tried to prepare himself, but that first slide into your welcoming warmth was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. How had he not noticed this last time? How were you ten times warmer, wetter–he groaned when you clenched around him–tighter without the condom? 

“Feel so good, baby girl, a fuckin’ dream,” Bucky grunted as he started to thrust as slowly as he could. 

But you gripped him tightly, moaning for him to go faster, harder, deeper. You weren't joking about letting everyone within a hundred feet know who he belonged to. He didn’t have the resolve to go slow anymore; his hips moved at a frantic pace, greedily trying to wring even more pleasure out of your pliant body. 

You whimpered each time his pelvis rubbed against your clit; he had awoken something in you–you felt out of control, feral. Your hips lifted quickly to meet every stroke he gave you. One hand clung to his shoulder while the otherr searched for purchase in the littered tissue, ribbons, and bows, desperate to ground yourself. 

“Fuck, doll, you need this cock that bad, huh?” 

You nodded, biting your lip to keep your mouth shut. You didn’t know what would come out anymore if you opened it. 

“Talk to me–tell me how bad you need it, or I’ll stop.” 

Your eyes widened, tears already pooling because stopping was absolutely not an option. Not when you were this close to an earth-shattering orgasm. 

Bucky smirked at you before delivering a short, calculated thrust that had your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Fuck yes, right there, daddy, please, please don’t stop!” 

Bucky groaned, forcing himself to keep going even though his body wanted to freeze in shock. “What did you just say?” He huffed, tilting your chin down to look into your glassy eyes.

Your mouth moved, no sound coming out for a second before you uttered the word again. 

Daddy. 

“Christ,” Bucky muttered, his jaw visibly clenching. “What’s gotten into you?” 

You shook your head, eyes shut tight and your hand squeezing tightly around a piece of glittery pink wrapping paper. “Feels so good like this–” you lost the rest of your words as your world shattered around you, spreading glitter over Bucky’s back as you hung on for dear life. 

Bucky grit his teeth, trying his best to hold out; he was far from done enjoying this new little kink he had unlocked. But you were squeezing him so tightly, moaning his name so prettily. And then–

“Come for me, daddy, please.” 

The sweet little beg would have been enough to end him right there. But Bucky realized what this was, and his heart raced at the thought. 

“Is that what you want, baby girl?” He leaned down to your ear, pushing your thigh up to get even deeper in you. “Want me to fill up this tight little cunt?” 

The spasming of your walls around him was enough of an answer. And again, Bucky wondered how he hadn’t appreciated this the last time. The thought of coming inside you now stirred something in him, something primal; he didn’t have a choice anymore; this was what he needed. Images of you, pregnant and glowing with his child–he knew it wasn’t possible but fuck if it didn’t make him want to try. 

“Gonna put a baby in you, doll–my best girl–fuck.”

You suddenly came again with a gasp. “Bucky–do it, baby, fill me up.” 

Bucky ground his hips deeper, faster. You had never heard such filth spew from his lips as he lost himself in you. And you knew you had unleashed a monster; how could he ever go back?

“Pretty little pussy’s taking it so well–I’m so deep, baby girl, fuck–take it, fucking take it.” 

Bucky swore he saw heaven when he finally came, so deep inside you, he knew it wouldn’t leak out. Not all of it. And the thought made his cock twitch before he even had a chance to go soft. 

Your fingernails were digging into his skin, your breaths labored–he knew you were sensitive but he needed more. 

“One more baby, please?” He damn near whimpered as he pulled out nearly all the way and fucked his come back into you slowly. 

Your fingers ran through his hair and he groaned at the feeling. 

“Want all your cum daddy, please.” Your voice was breathy, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Fuck,” Bucky reached behind him and grabbed a pillow off the chair to put under your hips. 

His eyes were dark, his hands possessive, his thrusts punishing. Before he was frantic, this time, he knew exactly what he needed and exactly how to get there. 

“I’ve got so much–so much cum for you baby girl,” Bucky moaned against your throat. 

You squeezed his toned ass, pulling him closer to you. It felt as if his cock was in your throat and yet you still wanted more. 

A loud bang came through the wall followed by Nicki’s voice telling you both to shut up. You started to laugh until Bucky angled his hips to rub against your overworked clit and your laugh turned into a hysteric gasping noise that stuck in your throat as you came. 

“Good god, you’re so fucking wet,” Bucky groaned sitting up so he could watch himself fuck his cum back into you. 

His dick was so hard it hurt…prickles of pain and pleasure shot up his spine as the feeling of your wet tight walls completely overwhelmed him. He wanted to live in that exact moment for the rest of his days, but he needed to fucking come. The tightness in his balls, and your sweet voice begging him to fill you up was becoming unbearable. 

“Holy–oh christ I’m cumming–can’t stop–” Bucky’s words slurred together as he continued to fuck you as hard and sloppy as he could while his cock throbbed inside you. 

“That’s it daddy, give me every drop.” You clenched around him rhythmically, trying to milk him for all he was worth. 

Bucky’s face twisted as his dick became too sensitive. “Fuck, doll st–stop. Too much,” he groaned out. “Can’t stop cumming–it won’t stop, fuck!”  

You stopped moving, staying completely still as he pressed as deep inside you as he could, cum still shooting from his sensitive pink tip. The mere fact that he was filling you with so much cum was prolong his extended orgasm–he was never going to get over this. 

“Was that okay?” Bucky asked between breaths, still hovering over you, rocking his hips gently because he couldn’t bear to stop completely. 

“Okay? That was fucking exquisite—I’ll be ready for round two after some breakfast. Think you can wait that long?” You teased, clenching around him. 

Bucky groaned but laughed as he kissed you. “For you, I suppose.” 

“Such a gentleman.”

Bucky pulled you up, carrying you to the bathroom. “I’ll make breakfast while you get cleaned up.”

“Waffles?” 

“Anything you want.” 

“Blueberry waffles.” You grinned and kissed his cheek before he sat you down and shut the bathroom door. 

“Oh,” Bucky poked his head back into the bathroom. “And we are definitely talking about this daddy thing—don’t think you’re getting away with that.” 

Bucky swore you blushed, a rare sight, before you pushed him out of the bathroom.

Don’t forget to reblog! 😉

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10

[latejulys]

[suga-kookiemonster]

cloud nine | pjm

summary⇢ “he’s here again,” viv whispers. “you know who. the hot guy who’s totally into you.” and he is hot--devastatingly hot enough that you know he can’t actually be into you, because the universe simply doesn’t work that way. that still doesn’t stop your heart from pounding when he smiles at you from across the room. pairing⇢ jimin/reader word count⇢ 5.4k rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | horror warnings⇢ sexual content, dubcon, blood, biting, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, honestly jimin is crazy af. just out of his got!!!damn mind 

a/n⇢  this idea has been sitting in my drafts for at least two years now, but for some reason, i thought hey, i should finally write it for jimin’s birthday. then his birthday passed and i thought that’s cool. it can be for halloween. needless to say...happy seokjin’s birthday, jimin ☠️☠️merry christmas, baby boy 💕🤣

THIS FIC IS NOT CUTE. you’ve been warned 👀 also, as i always do, i’ve been staring at this for too long and am overthinking it and idk how i feel about it anymore. but take it anyway 😭mood is this song~

“He’s here again,” Viv whispers.

It’s only with great, pointed effort that you don’t look up, putting all your energy into focusing on counting the correct change for the awaiting customer at your register. “Who?” you ask, hoping to come off disinterested, but knowing full well who she’s talking about. Who you spend each shift hoping will show up.

“You know who,” your friend hisses, but she has the good sense to wait until you have given the customer the receipt and they’ve turned to leave the store before elaborating. “The guy.” Viv starts not-so-subtly tipping her head in his direction. “The hot guy who’s totally into you.”

Without anything to distract you, your eyes naturally gravitate towards said hot guy. He’s browsing the new display of holiday scents you had set up a couple days ago, and now that it’s close to closing time, he’s the only customer in the store. Honestly, it can’t be helped that your gaze travels over his lithe form, seemingly poured into a pair of black skinny jeans that—even from across the room—showcase thick thighs and a fantastic ass.

He’s been blessing you with his presence for the past couple months or so, often popping into your store during your nightshifts and making you weak in the knees while he did nothing more than peruse your candle selection, engage in pleasant small talk, and send you smiles that crinkled his eyes in the corners. Viv, a frequent spectator to these interactions, is well aware of your little crush, and has now got it into her head that the two of you could actually be a thing. A reciprocal thing that does not live entirely in your imagination. You appreciate her enthusiasm, but you’re also not delusional.

“He’s not into me,” you murmur shyly, forcing yourself to avert your gaze in case he caught you.

Viv shoots you an incredulous look. “_____—he comes in here all the time. Nobody needs that many fucking candles!” She shakes her head. “I mean, the other option is that he summons demons and shit, but I feel like in that case it would be fiscally irresponsible to spend extra for candles that smell like clean linen. But the fact that he only ever comes to your register makes me think the first option is more likely. He’s into you.”

“Maybe he’s a rich demon summoner,” you counter smartly. “Or maybe he just doesn’t like you.”

Viv is visibly unamused by your jest. She’s told you before that though she’s seen him occasionally walk by the store when she’s had a shift without you, she’s only ever seen him actually come in and buy something from you specifically. You want to joke that it’s due to your vast knowledge of aromatics, but excitement bubbles in your stomach despite your best efforts.

The handsome stranger casually walks from one display to the next, naturally looking in your direction in the process. You freeze.

“Welcome to Heaven Scent,” Viv says cheerily, her customer-service voice turned on. “Can we help you find anything?”

“A-Ah, no thank you.” He seems a bit caught a bit off-guard at being addressed, a shy smile touching his lips. His soft brown eyes roam over to you. “I’m just looking.”

Your heart pounds in your ears. His smile grows.

Viv looks like the cat that ate the canary, I told you so coming off her in waves. “Well, you just let us know!” she tells him sweetly, before turning her attention to you with a mischievous look in her eye. “Ah, I forgot that I was supposed to check inventory of the beach scents before closing today—I’ll be in the back if you need me, okay?”

“Vivienne,” you hiss, unable to keep the underlying distress from your tone. Is she really going to leave you with him? The gorgeous stranger? Sex on legs? Doesn’t she know you well enough by now to realize that if told to sink or swim, this is a situation in which you are going to completely embarrass yourself and sink?

Either she doesn’t know, or she doesn’t care, because Viv only waggles her fingers saucily at you and disappears into the back room, nonplussed by the daggers you stare into her back.

You let out a shuddery breath, stopping yourself at the last second from nervously picking at the bug bite on your neck. Willing yourself to act normally and not like a starstruck moron. But you don’t have much time to catch your bearings, as the handsome customer casually picks up two candles from the table he is browsing and starts heading your way without smelling them.

“Find everything okay?” you croak, awkwardly clearing your throat.

He smiles at you again. “Yes. Thank you, _____.”

The sound of your name on his tongue startles you, your hand pausing in its reach for one of his candles, before you remember the name tag pinned to your shirt. Stupid.

Your heart pounds in your ears. His smile widens. You try not to notice, because you’re not sure you can stop yourself from staring at the plush lips you may or may not have had many an inappropriate thought about.

Your fingers wrap around the candle, on autopilot as you start to ring him up.

“I’m Jimin, by the way,” he says, propriety forcing you to look up from your task and meet his kind eyes. “I feel like we see each other around a lot, but haven’t properly spoken.”

Your lips twitch, and you bite them to suppress the smile that wants to erupt across your face. “You’re right,” you agree easily. “Nice to meet you, Jimin.”

Something flits across his expression, but it’s gone too quickly for you to properly recognize it. He quietly watches you ring up his items for a few moments, handing you his credit card when prompted. It isn’t until you’re passing him his receipt that he speaks again. “Listen, I’m sorry if this is weird, and I know this is a bit forward, but I would really love to buy you a drink sometime.”

You’re so thrown by this turn of events that for a few seconds, you can do nothing but gape at him. Jimin watches you flounder, running a nervous hand through his luscious hair. You dazedly watch the dark strands fall perfectly back into place.

“I’ve just been getting the vibes that there might be something…here? Between us. Or at least that there could be. And I would really like the chance to get to know you better.” Your stunned silence only encourages his rambling. “But I swear I’m not trying to be creepy, and I totally get it if—”

“Yes.”

He pauses, surprised. You are too, the word slipping past your lips before you could register it. Still, you stick to your guns.

“I get off in an hour?” you offer, uncertain.

But Jimin just grins at you, eyes turning into half-moons. “An hour it is.”

After exchanging numbers, he leaves, sending you pleased glances over his shoulder his entire trek out of the store.

When she conveniently emerges from the back ten minutes later, Viv begs you to spill the tea. But, wary of jinxing the evening ahead, you choose to keep this to yourself a little longer.

That doesn’t make it any easier to suppress your glee.

The bar Jimin asks you to meet him at is one you’re familiar with, though have never been inside. It’s one of the newer establishments, in one of the trendier parts town, and you’ve heard good reviews, but haven’t had the chance to check it out before tonight.

I got us a table towards the back, he had replied to your initial I’m headed over text. So now you’re scanning the room, side-stepping a few people as you make your way further in.

It’s already relatively crowded tonight, even at 10pm, and you take that as a good sign. The patronage is a good mix, but it definitely skews your age range—and attractive. Jimin will fit right in in this type of setting, but you can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious as you glance at everyone else, inwardly cursing yourself for coming straight from work instead of stopping at home first and putting on something more presentable. The only thing that calms your nerves a bit is the fact that Jimin has already seen you in your simple sweater and jeans—had even asked you out while you were wearing them—so you hope the bit of lipstick you had swiped on on the walk over is appealing enough.

You push deeper in, noting how busy the bartenders already are, hustling to take orders from everyone leaning across the bar, vying for their attention. Predictably, no one pays you any attention, too busy chatting amongst themselves or trying to secure their beverages. So it throws you completely off when you just happen to turn your head and lock eyes with someone.

He’s handsome. Possibly the most attractive person you have ever set eyes on, to be honest. Perfectly-styled raven hair, full lips, dark eyes still set on you, despite being caught red-handed in his staring. He’s sitting at a hightop table only a few feet away from you, sipping amber liquid from a glass as he observes you observing him. A curious eyebrow raises and it snaps you out of your bewildered daze, so, embarrassed, you look away, forced to pass his table in your trek towards the back but doing your best to ignore the self-conscious warmth racing across your skin.

“_____.”

It’s not spoken very loudly, but you’re close enough to hear him over the din. You pause, turning your head slowly and disbelievingly. Still thinking he’s calling out to someone else, someone with the same name. But when you look at him, his intense gaze is still solidly on you. He idly swirls the drink in his glass.

“Are you okay?”

The blood in your veins freezes.

How…

How does he know your name?

“W-What?” you ask, a deer in the headlights.

His lip quirks, apparently amused by you. “I asked,” he repeats, “if you’re okay.”

“Um—”

“She’s fine!” a voice snaps, and suddenly Jimin is next to you. He’s visibly agitated, his previously soft eyes steeled over, nostrils flaring. A hand pulls you closer to his side and farther away from the stranger.

The dark-haired man isn’t at all intimidated by Jimin’s sudden display. He casually shifts on his chair, looking rather bored at the metaphorical raising of hackles. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong. Mind your own fucking business, Seokjin.”

The man—Seokjin—slides his eyes to you again. You, who is glancing back and forth between them with growing confusion and unease. He shrugs. “I don’t really care, to be honest. It was just a question.” His reply is flippant, and he takes an unbothered sip from his glass. But his entire expression hardens as he swallows. “I’m telling you now, though. If you ruin it for the rest of us, I will be forced to care. And I will have a problem.”

Your date’s expression sours further, but he chooses not to answer him. “Come on,” Jimin mutters to you, leading you away with a gentle hand at your waist. “Our table’s back here.”

Seokjin gives you one last look, something tinging his gaze, before he finally turns away and goes back to his drink.

(It isn’t until much later that you recognize that something as pity.)

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Jimin says, contrite. None of his previous anger lingering in his demeanor as the two of you settle into your seats. “I hope I haven’t messed up our date already.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, though questions still swirl within your mind. You settle on the easiest one. “Who was that?”

His lips tighten. “Just some guy. We’re not friends, but we run in the same circles, and for some reason he thinks that gives him the right to always butt into my life.”

Someone Jimin knows, then. But how did he know who you were? Did Jimin talk about you to people?

It makes you warm, thinking about how he possibly talks about you the same way you talk to Viv about him. You bite your lip, hiding a smile.

“But let’s not worry about him,” he says, shaking his head with finality. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I ate on my break,” you inform him. “But I could definitely go for a drink.”

Jimin grins, sliding from his seat. “A drink it is,” he says with a wink, walking away before you can say anything else. For a second, you worry that his walking past Seokjin might start something back up, but you watch as the two men pointedly ignore each other, Jimin making his way to the bar and easily getting a bartender’s attention.

He doesn’t leave you sitting alone for long, coming back with a glass of red wine and another with a golden liquid. Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in the garnish of lemon, fingers automatically closing around the cool glass when he hands it to you. A sip confirms it—a sidecar, your favorite.

“How did you know I like these?” you ask with a smile.

“An educated guess,” he replies cheekily. He’s pleased with himself, you can tell—lips quirked, eyes turning into crescents.

“Love an educated man.” Heat flushes your skin, immediately embarrassed by your attempt at flirting, but it has the intended effect all the same, Jimin’s smile widening. You clear your throat. “So, tell me more about yourself. What is it that you do exactly that requires so many candles?”

Your date takes a deep swallow from his glass. You watch his Adam’s apple bob. “If I’m being completely honest,” he says, sheepish, “I really only go there for you.”

Your breath catches, unable to believe what he’s telling you. So Viv was right. Once you tell her, you’ll never hear the end of it. “Really?”

He seems amused by your shyness. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. Taking a few swigs of your own drink if only to give yourself something to do.

“What about you? How did you get into the candle-selling business?”

“Sallie Mae.”

The two of you continue chatting, and Jimin makes sure your glass isn’t empty for too long. It’s really nice. He’s really nice, and it blows your booze-addled mind that someone like Jimin—who is so obviously out of your league—could possibly be interested in you. Especially when you’re apparently a lightweight, at least in comparison to him! A couple hours in and you’re stumbling over your words a little bit, everything already hazy at the edges, but Jimin looks perfectly fine.

“I’ve had an amazing time tonight,” you say, interrupting your own monologue about what makes a good grilled cheese. “But I think…I think I should head home. Before I get sloppy and you realize you don’t like me anymore.”

“That’ll never happen,” he says, laughing, and everything about him is affectionate as he gazes at you.

Jimin’s laugh reminds you of sunshine. God, you hope this isn’t the last time you’ll hear it.

“But let’s get you home,” he concedes, rising from his seat with a fluidity and grace you could never attempt to match, even when completely sober. He waits for you to clumsily gather your coat and helps you put it on, like the gentleman he is. His hand finds the small of your back, and he leads you out of the bar and turns left.

“You don’t have to walk me!” you protest as he guides you across the street at the intersection. “I’m not far from here, actually. Just five blocks or so.”

“Don’t be silly,” he huffs. His hand shifts, and slowly curls around your waist. “It’s dark. It’s dangerous for you to be out alone.”

“Well.” You smile, giddy. Satisfaction bubbles in your belly. “If you insist.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way in relative silence, merely enjoying each other’s company. But you hadn’t been lying—your stroll was short-lived, as you lived relatively close to the bar. Jimin guides to the two of you to a halt in front of your apartment building, and you bite your lip, hesitant.

Would you ever see this wonderful man again? Would he continue to visit you at your job? Would this become something more?

Or had this night effectively scratched his itch, satisfied his curiosity?

Would he say goodnight and then walk out of your life forever?

“Would you like to come up for coffee?” you blurt loudly. Jimin’s eyes widen, and so do yours, surprised at your own liquored tongue. This is not like you at all—you don’t do this sort of thing. Viv would be proud, but honestly? So are you. Because if this is the last time you see him, you're going out with a bang.

But the almost-scrutinizing way he’s looking at you is making you nervous.

“You don’t have to,” you say, much more timidly this time.

“I would love some coffee,” he responds pleasantly, but his eyes are dark.

The two of you barely make it into the elevator.

Suddenly, his hands are everywhere—lips locked, your pelvis rolling into his as he crowds you into the corner. You moan into his mouth, arching into his touch and, in turn, touching every part of him you can reach. The elevator dings when it hits your floor, and you both somehow exit and make your way down the hallway without parting. You fumble for your keys when he pushes you against your front door, only pulling away to give you just enough space to open it.

When you grab him and keep kissing him, pulling him forward by his jacket, he follows you without protest. But as soon as you walk through the doorway, his lips detach from yours, his feet still firmly in the hallway. You look at him confusion, worried you’ll find regret—rejection—written across his face. Instead, you only find a slight hesitance. So you muster up the courage to give him one last push.

“Come in.” You swallow, unsure. “If…if you still want to.”

Jimin’s resulting smile is blinding. He steps over the threshold, hands immediately reaching for your hips. “Of course I want to,” he murmurs, fingers curving lower to bless your ass. You shudder, and suddenly the front door is slammed shut and you’re grabbing at each other again. A complete mess of hands. Of tongue, of teeth.

A hand unbuttons your jeans and then slips beneath the waistband with no hesitation, fingers gliding down your lips and finding them already sticky. Jimin groans when he hits the jackpot, fingertips dipping shallowly into your sopping entrance a few times and dragging it upwards. If you had any sense left or were sober, you would be embarrassed by how easily your body has betrayed you. But you don’t and you’re not, so you just whimper, eyes rolling as he puts indirect pressure on your clit, just how you like.

The first finger enters you slowly but surely, only slightly restricted by the confines of your pants. He drags it back out, a tease, before adding another with enough force to shake the door. You keen against his tongue, hips lifting restlessly against the stimulation of him repeatedly pounding into your wet heat. 

“Bed,” you manage to choke out, halfway delirious. In all honesty, you’re more than okay with him fucking you senseless against this door, but some small part of you is still cognizant of your neighbors.

Jimin peels himself off of you, but his hands on your hips guide you into following him. And you eagerly do, desire in your veins and pooling between your legs.

Clothes are rapidly shed, thrown uncaringly on the floor. Jimin stares unabashedly at your bare form, tongue swiping across his plush lips. And you feel everything but self-conscious, because you can tell immediately that he likes what he sees.

He wants you. He’s hungry, and only you can satiate him.

Just as well, because you’re just as hungry, the hard panes of his chiseled physique, his thick thighs, making you absolutely famished.

You crawl onto the bed and slowly spread your legs, giving him a proper look at his meal. His eyes follow your every move, and it doesn’t take more than a breath for him to join you, slotting easily against you, chest to chest, breath misting your face.

“So wet,” he murmurs, propping your leg and gliding the length of himself through your arousal. “I can take you right now, sweetheart. Just like this. Is that what you want? Want to be stuffed full of my cock?”

His fingers had been amazing, but you can already tell they will pale in comparison to what he’s promising you. “Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, yes, Jimin, fuck me.”

He releases a ragged breath at that, and a shift of his hips has him easily parting your folds, stuffing you just as good as he promised. You’re rendered speechless, your mouth falling open in ecstasy as he starts riding you hard but slow, in a way that makes your toes curl. Your hands drift up to tangle in his raven locks, tugging as if you can somehow pull him even closer to you.

You’re speechless, but Jimin is rambling, the hot grip of your cunt apparently turning off any and all filters he may have previously had.

“God, I missed this,” he groans. “Missed you. Missed this pussy.”

Your eyes fly open, landing on him uncertainly. A knot starts to form in your gut, and it’s not the sexy kind. What? What the fuck is he talking about?

He leans in, occupying your lips with his again before you can question him. “Mine,” he mutters against you, moving to stick his face into the crook of your neck and groaning against the skin. “Shit. Smell so fucking good.”

You blink rapidly, brain still scrambling to make sense of his words, and that’s when what you’ve done sinks in.

You’ve just let a stranger enter you without a barrier.

You, timid you, who doesn’t do sex outside of committed relationships. You, who’s currently partaking in your first-ever one night stand.

Raw.

It’s too late now, but the building anxiety won’t rest until you ask. “Are you clean?” you gasp, blood thundering in your ears.

“Yes,” Jimin answers against your neck, though it sounds labored. He rips his face away, turning it to the side and away from your scrutiny. His hips never halting their assault. “J-Just..just relax.”

Something’s not right. Something hasn’t been right for a long while, but the haze of lust and liquor are finally lifting enough for you to notice. Why isn’t he looking at you? Why is he so pointedly and purposely not looking at you?

“What?”

“Relax for me,” he repeats to your closet door, and, wary, you lift a hand and gently guide his face back to you. He freezes at your touch, cock stuttering inside you, and meets your gaze, pupils completely blown. “Fuck, you smell good,” he says again, under his breath.

Your brows furrow in confusion, especially when he turns to nuzzle against your palm. It doesn’t take long for him to start practically panting like a dog.

And that’s when you notice his abnormally-elongated canines.

Your blood pressure skyrockets, and his nostrils flare.

“Jimin…Jimin, what’s going on?”

The hand on your thigh tightens until it hurts. You can see the veins in his neck from how hard he’s clenching his teeth. “Calm down, sweetheart.”

“What the fuck!”

“Take some deep breaths, okay?”

“Are those real? Jimin, why the fuck do those look real?!”

Your heart rattles in its cage. Jimin flinches, like he can hear it. You realize with dawning horror that he probably can.

“Oh my god—”

“I need you to calm down, my love,” he pushes through his grit teeth. His grit teeth, which are much too sharp and too long to be natural. Sharp and long and nothing like how you’re used to seeing them. How they’ve been the whole night. 

He meets your eyes again, and you gasp.

They’re completely black. Bottomless voids, dark as ink.

Any hope of you calming down goes out the window when you lock eyes with what you now recognize to be a predator.

Your entire body goes into red alert, muscles reflexively locking up, everything frozen as if not moving will somehow prevent him from seeing you. Your breathing accelerates, and you can hear the staccato of your heart compensating in your eardrums.

An involuntary twitch of your hand is all it takes for him to strike, a cobra reacting on instinct. Entirely too fast for you to see, but it doesn’t matter, because you certainly feel it when his fangs sink into your neck, excruciating pain electrifying every single atom of you with blinding heat. You’re barely lucid to the way his cock still fervently pistons within you—you can’t even scream, you’re in so much agony.

Until you’re not.

Warmth radiates from where he feeds from you, pain rapidly morphing into a pleasure so intense, you struggle to breathe. You cling to him in hopes of having something to ground you, something to tether you in the face of the oncoming tsunami. Eyes rolling back into your head, cunt squeezing into a vicegrip that has Jimin snarling against your neck.

The next thing you know, you’re staring dazedly at the ceiling. As you blink away your spotted vision, Jimin’s worried face enters your line of sight. He’s no longer inside you, and his eyes are normal. His teeth are normal. You would think that you had hallucinated the whole thing, but a telling trail of red still drips from the corner of his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, a hand drifting to your arm. “Are you okay?”

A few hours ago, his melodic voice would have given you chills. Now, the chills that race down your spine are for a completely different reason, your exhausted limbs still managing to lock up at his touch.

“No,” you whisper, body starting to tremble. “No, please, oh my god—”

“It’s okay,” he says, running his hands up your arms in what he probably thinks is a reassuring manner. His eyes are soft, but his lips are still stained with your lifeblood. It is not okay. “It’s okay.”

His attempt to calm you has the complete opposite effect—your body electrifies at his touch, and suddenly you’re bucking. You’re kicking. You’re pushing his face away from you with enough force to snap his head to the side. You’re pounding on his chest, you’re scratching. Your heart pumps adrenaline through you, fight or flight kicking in in a last-ditch effort to save you.

But Jimin easily subdues you, your attack barely registering. “Stop it,” he huffs, sitting on your legs. His hands halting the scrabbling of yours and forcing them back to your sides. You burst into tears, and it only makes him visibly more concerned as he wipes them away. “You’re going to hurt yourself again,” he says gently.

“Please don’t kill me,” you sob.

“Kill you?” Jimin sounds absolutely dumbfounded. “I would never hurt you, sweetheart. I love you.”

He’s crazy. This man—this thing—is fucking crazy, but when you open your mouth to tell him so, pathetic whimpers are the only things that escape. All you can do is lie there, pushing down your sudden and intense urge to vomit as he leans forward and brushes his lips against yours.

“Please. Please let me go—”

“I know this is a shock, sweetheart, but just take some deep breaths for me—”

“I promise I won’t tell anybody, please—”

“You’re safe here. I love you—”

“You don’t fucking know me!” you scream.

A storm crosses his face, eyes sharp. “I know everything about you,” he says lowly. The tone immediately making sweat bead across your hairline.

You believe him. I really only go there for you, he had told you, and you hadn’t listened. “Let me go,” you say again, this time no more than a whimper. Fear shooting through your entire body.

Jimin’s expression softens. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you—I never meant to scare you—”

“LET ME GO!” you shriek. You start bucking again, and Jimin scrabbles to secure your wild limbs.

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart—”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“Please don’t make me do this,” he says, tone notably disappointed. “I hate it when you make me do this.”

What the fuck. What the FUCK.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

He grabs your face with a hand, fingers squishing your lips into a pout. A little drool drips out the corners before you can stop it. “Look at me,” he instructs, and he’s giving you that expression again. The one that you have always interpreted as gentle, but can now clearly see is patronizing.

“Look at me,” his voice echos, multiplied. Multiplied like the kaleidoscope colors swimming your vision. “Look.” You fall deeper.

“Get out,” you whisper, and then everything is black.

“He’s here again,” Viv hisses, an unsubtle elbow knocking in between your ribs. Your head snaps in his direction before you can stop it, butterflies in your belly. “For the last time. This man wants to bone you.”

“Say that a little louder,” you sigh, trying not to be too obvious in the way your attention is drawn to his every move. The handsome stranger smiles at you in greeting, and you send him a shy one back that is missed as he turns to browse the kitchen scents.

“I honestly don’t know what you’re waiting for,” Viv mumbles from the side of her mouth. “Shoot your shot. This is a slam dunk.”

Is it? You aren’t sure, unused to men as gorgeous as the one frequenting your store being interested in you. What if Viv had read the situation completely wrong, and you offend him? Make him uncomfortable enough that he stops coming? Did you really want to be singlehandedly responsible for your store’s revenue taking a nosedive? How were you supposed to explain that to your manager?

“Find everything okay?” Viv says cheerily, and you’re immediately knocked out of your spiraling thoughts when you realize he’s here again. Here, right in front of your register.

“Yes, thank you,” he tells her with a smile. His front tooth is slightly crooked. Fuck is he hot.

Viv announces that she’s going to clean up a little, and moves to dust some candles near the front of the store that most definitely don’t need dusting. You don’t know why she keeps insisting on leaving you alone with him—the last time she went to “check inventory” in the back, your interaction with him only ended up lasting the length of his transaction, as he had exited the store as promptly as he had entered it. But Viv insists on playing wingman, so, once again, you’re left virtually alone with him.

Your hand raises, and you have to stop yourself from nervously touching a bug bite on your neck. Something has been biting you lately, leaving small but inflamed marks on your skin. Though you had already googled it and ruled out bedbugs, you really needed to talk to your landlord about the issue, as you don’t pay all that rent for a bug-infested place. In the meantime, the concealer you had carefully put over the blemish would definitely rub off if you keep messing with it. And god forbid you allow yourself to look like a leper in front of the hot stranger.

Clearing your throat, you begin to ring him up. “Country peach,” you say awkwardly. “That’s a good scent.”

“It is,” he replies, clearly amused. His head slightly tilts as he regards you.

You swallow.

“I’m Jimin,” he offers, and you tingle all the way down to your toes.