#like I said; I have one vote for smut but now I need to figure out where to put it and also how to write it again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 5 days ago

Text

The story untold no more - Bucky x Reader (NSFW) - part2

Summary: New house, new life, new feelings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Journalist!Reader

Warnings for the whole story: English isn't my first language, so apologies for any mistakes. Reader has some descriptions. Angst, fluff, SMUT So please do not interract if you're under 18, idiots in love. Not proof-read yet, so apologies...

A/N: There's the second part :) Apologies for the mix up - we have SMUT here so, yeah ;)

Words for the chapter: 25 035 (even bigger oopsies)

Part 1

On your first morning at the house, you arrived armed with food—breakfast sandwiches, packed lunches, and a box of pastries. You remembered Bucky mentioning in passing that neither he nor Steve had much talent in the kitchen, and you figured feeding them was the least you could do.

When you walked through the door, the smell of coffee and eggs wafting in with you, both men lit up like kids on Christmas morning.

“This smells amazing,” Steve said, his eyes wide as he peeked into the bags.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Bucky said, though the grateful smile on his face said otherwise.

“Consider it fuel for the day,” you said with a laugh. “And if you’re nice, I might even teach you how to make some of this stuff yourselves.”

Steve grinned, already unwrapping a sandwich. “You’d be doing humanity a favor. Bucky burns toast.”

“I do not,” Bucky protested, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

After breakfast, Steve clapped Bucky on the back and gave you a small wave. “Alright, I’m leaving you two to it. This is your project, Buck. Don’t mess it up.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

As Steve left, munching on a chocolate chip cookie you’d packed, Bucky turned to you, his expression somewhere between excitement and uncertainty.

“Alright,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let me show you around.”

You took his hand without hesitation, the gesture feeling as natural as breathing.

---

Bucky’s plans for the house were detailed and thoughtful, and as he walked you through each room, his enthusiasm was infectious.

“I want to keep the brick,” he said, running his hand along the living room wall. “It’s part of what makes this place feel like home. But the floors… those need replacing.”

“That makes sense,” you said, nodding. “What about your room?”

He smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his whole face. “I’m thinking I’ll keep it mostly the same. Just a new coat of paint, maybe some better lighting.”

As he spoke, his voice grew steadier, more confident. It was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while, and the fact that he trusted you enough to share it all made your chest ache with warmth.

“And the kitchen,” he continued, pulling you into the next room. “It needs a lot of work, but I think I can—”

“Hold on,” you interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing this all yourself?”

Bucky shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Steve offered to help, but… I want to do as much of it as I can. This place is mine. It’s my responsibility.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Well, I’m here now. So if you need an extra set of hands—two left ones, mind you—I’m your girl.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, and it was the happiest you’d ever seen him.

---

Later that afternoon, the two of you sat on the living room floor, eating sandwiches from the bag you’d brought. The sun poured through the dusty windows, painting the room in golden light.

Bucky pulled out a small stack of old photos from a box he’d found in the corner.

“These survived the move?” you asked, surprised as you sifted through the images.

“Not all of them,” he said softly. “But a few. Steve kept some, too. He said they were part of my past, and he couldn’t let them go.”

One photo in particular caught your eye—a sketch of a young Bucky, done in soft, careful lines.

“Steve did this?” you asked, your voice filled with awe.

Bucky nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, back when he thought he was gonna be an artist. I was more of the fixer, though—wiring, mechanics, stuff like that. His drawings were always better than mine.”

“You’re kidding, right?” you said, holding up a different sketch Bucky had done of a car. “My dad would’ve loved this. He used to tinker with cars all the time.”

Bucky laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He is,” you said, smiling fondly.

---

By the time the day wound down, the two of you stood in the front yard, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting the house in soft, amber hues.

“Thank you for today,” Bucky said, his voice low and steady. His hand rested lightly on your elbow, grounding you in the moment.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, smiling up at him. “I’m just happy to see you like this. Happy.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on yours. Then, with a soft, deliberate motion, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“See you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice warm.

As you drove home, your hand brushed the spot where his lips had been, and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

---

The days that followed were filled with laughter, lighthearted teasing, and steady progress. You might not have been the most skilled handyman, but you’d never felt more content.

And every time Bucky smiled at you—those soft, unguarded smiles that made your heart stutter—you felt like maybe, just maybe, you were helping rebuild more than just a house.

---

The week had been a whirlwind of rebuilding, sanding, painting, and—if you were honest with yourself—Bucky trying very hard to keep you from hurting yourself.

“You weren’t kidding about those two left hands,” he teased one morning, watching as you struggled to keep a nail steady with the hammer. “Are you trying to hit your thumb?”

You huffed, glaring at him as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, that mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just getting the hang of it,” you grumbled.

Bucky chuckled, stepping forward and gently taking the hammer from your hand. “No offense, doll, but I think we’ll keep you away from sharp tools and anything with too much weight. I’d like to get through this project without a trip to the ER.”

You pouted for the rest of the morning, folding your arms dramatically every time he looked your way. But your resolve didn’t last long.

Later that day, as you were reorganizing paint samples on the table, he approached you, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Hey, uh… I was wondering. Would you want to plan the kitchen?”

You blinked, turning to him in surprise. “Me? Really?”

He nodded, his gaze shy but steady. “I don’t really know what I’m doing with it, and… I trust you. You’ve got good taste, and I think you’d make it feel like home.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and before you knew it, tears were welling up in your eyes.

“Whoa, hey,” Bucky said, his brows knitting together in concern. “What’s wrong? Did I say something—”

“No,” you interrupted, laughing softly as you wiped at your cheeks. “It’s just… you trust me. That means more to me than I can put into words.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek. “Of course I trust you,” he murmured. Then, leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

You’d noticed it more and more lately—how it was always him who reached for your hand, him who initiated those little touches. It was as if he was finally letting himself believe he deserved that closeness, that warmth. And you were more than happy to give it to him.

---

The week had been smooth, almost idyllic. Days of working on the house blurred into a rhythm of shared laughs, small victories, and the comforting sound of progress. It felt like you and Bucky had carved out a world of your own—a pocket of peace that existed solely within the walls of that house.

But peace is fragile, and the world outside has a way of creeping in.

The errand was supposed to be simple—a quick trip to the hardware store to pick up extra nails and browse paint colors for the kitchen. Bucky had seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, even leaving his cap behind. His bare head caught the sunlight as you walked side by side, his shoulders loose and his posture easy.

“I think we should go with something light for the walls,” you said as you pulled open the door to the hardware store. “Maybe a soft blue or cream? Something bright to—”

The words froze in your throat the moment you stepped inside.

The shop owner, a man in his sixties with a stern expression and deep lines etched into his face, had been wiping down the counter. His gaze lifted as the bell above the door chimed, and his eyes locked onto Bucky.

For a long moment, there was silence.

Then the man’s face twisted into something ugly.

“You,” he said, his voice low and sharp, like the crack of a whip. “Get out.”

Bucky froze beside you, his body going rigid. The relaxed man who had walked in just moments ago was gone, replaced by someone you barely recognized. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, controlled, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down your spine.

“I said, get out,” the man repeated, louder this time. His voice carried across the store, drawing the attention of a few customers browsing nearby. “I’m not selling anything to a murderer.”

The words hung in the air like a slap, cold and cutting. For a second, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process what had just been said.

But then you looked at Bucky—at the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly, at the way he dropped his gaze to the floor—and something inside you snapped.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, putting yourself between Bucky and the shop owner.

“You listen to me,” you said sharply, your voice trembling with rage. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

The man’s scowl deepened, but you pressed on, your words gaining momentum like a freight train.

“This is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,” you said, your voice rising with each word. “He’s a national hero. A victim of war. A man who was tortured, brainwashed, and used as a weapon against his will. He has spent every day since then trying to atone for things he wasn’t even responsible for. So don’t you dare stand there and call him a murderer.”

The man blinked, but you weren’t done.

“What the hell do you know about war?” you demanded, your words trembling with fury. “About what it’s like to have your choices ripped away from you? To lose yourself and still have the strength to fight your way back?”

“Ma’am, I—”

“No,” you snapped, cutting him off. “You don’t get to justify this. You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know the first damn thing about the kind of person he is. He’s a survivor. He’s a good man. A better man than you’ll ever be.”

The shop had gone eerily quiet. Customers had stopped what they were doing to watch, their curious and wary gazes bouncing between you and the shop owner.

“You’re just a bitter, ignorant old man,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “And honestly? I feel sorry for you. Because you’ll never know what it’s like to stand beside someone like him—someone who’s been through hell and still finds a way to be kind. Someone who’s—”

“Hey.”

Bucky’s voice was soft, his hand light on your arm, but it was enough to stop you mid-sentence.

You turned to him, your breath coming in uneven gasps, your eyes still blazing with anger. “What?”

“Let’s go,” he said gently. His voice was calm, but his eyes—the deep blue-gray of a stormy sea—held a quiet resolve that cut through your rage.

“But he—”

“Please,” Bucky murmured. There was no anger in his voice, only a quiet weariness that made your heart ache.

The fight drained out of you in an instant. Your shoulders slumped as you let out a shaky breath, and with one last glare at the shop owner, you turned and followed Bucky out of the store

---

The walk back to the house was heavy with silence. The usual rhythm of your steps, once comfortable and in sync, felt disjointed. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he stared down at the sidewalk. His jaw was set, but the tension around his eyes betrayed him.

You wanted to say something—anything—to break the quiet, to ease the weight that had fallen between you since leaving the hardware store. But every time you opened your mouth, the memory of the shop owner’s words slammed into you like a wall.

By the time you reached the house, your anger was boiling over again.

“Unbelievable,” you snapped as you stormed through the door. “The nerve of that guy. To say something like that to you! Who does he think he is?”

Bucky followed you inside, his steps deliberate but unhurried, and leaned against the wall. He watched quietly as you paced back and forth, gesturing animatedly as you vented.

“He doesn’t even know you,” you continued, your voice rising as the anger clawed its way out of your chest. “And he thinks he can just… just—ugh! What an absolute—”

Bucky called your name softly, but you were too worked up to notice.

“And another thing,” you went on, throwing your hands up in frustration. “If I ever see him again—”

Two long strides, and Bucky was in front of you. His hands came up, cupping your face with a gentleness that caught you off guard, and before you could finish your sentence, his lips were on yours.

The world tilted.

Your anger dissolved in an instant, melting into the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth moving against yours. Time seemed to stretch, the pounding of your heart filling the silence as his thumbs brushed lightly against your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His lips quirked into a small, lopsided smile that made your chest ache.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet gratitude.

“For what?” you managed to ask, still breathless.

“For standing up for me,” he said. “For… being you.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of emotion crashing over you. “Always,” you whispered, reaching up to rest your hands over his.

He kissed you again, slower this time, as though savoring the moment. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was deliberate, grounding. It felt like an anchor, steadying both of you.

---

The kiss didn’t happen again. Not the next day, or the one after that.

You hadn’t realized how much you would miss it—the warmth of his lips, the quiet intensity of the moment—but you told yourself it was fine.

Because nothing had changed between you.

Bucky was still Bucky, still teasing you about your clumsiness one moment and thanking you softly the next. He still held your hand when you walked through the house together, still kissed your forehead like it was second nature.

And as much as you wanted more, as much as you missed the feel of his lips on yours, you decided you could survive. As long as he was happy, so were you.

---

Two days after he’d asked you to plan the kitchen, you approached him nervously with a set of technical drawings. They weren’t perfect—lines overlapped in places, smudges from an eraser dotted the corners—but you’d poured your heart into them.

“Hey,” you began, holding out the papers as you stepped into the living room where Bucky was sanding down an old chair. “I, uh, have something for you.”

He looked up, brushing sawdust from his hands before taking the drawings. “What’s this?”

“Kitchen plans,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “I, um, asked my dad for help. He’s the one who actually drew them—I just told him what I had in mind. I didn’t tell him who it was for, though,” you added quickly, biting your lip. “I just wanted to make sure it looked good.”

Bucky studied the papers in silence, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in the details. You watched him anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

When he finally looked up, his expression softened. A small, warm smile tugged at his lips.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to,” you replied, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal even though your cheeks burned under his gaze. “I didn’t want to mess it up. So… yeah.”

Bucky shook his head fondly, stepping closer. He set the drawings aside and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Warmth flooded through you, the gesture as tender as it was unexpected. You smiled shyly, looking down at your feet to hide the blush spreading across your face.

“You’re amazing,” he added, his voice soft.

You glanced up at him, your breath catching at the sincerity in his eyes. “So are you,” you whispered.

The moment lingered, charged with an unspoken connection that neither of you seemed ready to break.

---

Later that evening, as you sat on the porch with Bucky, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The day’s work had left your hands sore and your muscles aching, but you felt lighter than you had in weeks.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, a rare look of contentment on his face as he gazed out at the street.

“Hey,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to you, his expression curious.

“I just wanted to say…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’ve been through so much, and I know it’s not easy. But I’m proud of you. For everything. For trying. For rebuilding. For… letting me be part of it.”

His gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours.

“You’re part of it because you matter,” he said simply.

The words settled over you like a blanket, warm and grounding.

And as the night wrapped around you, you realized that whatever came next—whatever challenges or triumphs lay ahead—you wouldn’t trade this for anything. Because here, in this moment, with him by your side, you felt like you’d found something you hadn’t known you were searching for.

Home.

---

You spent the next hour going over the plans together, seated side by side at the dining table with the house’s blueprints spread out in front of you. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting golden light across the room and bathing Bucky’s face in warmth.

“I think this setup should have everything you need for cooking,” you said, tapping your pen against the placement of the appliances. “The oven and stovetop here, fridge there—it keeps everything within reach. And since Tony’s footing the bill, you should absolutely go for top-of-the-line equipment.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re really trying to turn me into a chef, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you teased, grinning at him. “I promised, didn’t I? And trust me, once you get the hang of it, you’ll love it. Cooking can be… therapeutic.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but amused. “Therapeutic, huh? We’ll see about that. But alright, doll, I’m holding you to it.”

You laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Good. We’ll start simple—no soufflés or flambéed anything until you’ve mastered scrambled eggs.”

As the conversation went on, Bucky’s posture shifted, his body leaning closer as he grew more engaged. His eyes softened as he listened to your ideas, and every so often, he’d chime in with a small adjustment or suggestion. You could feel the weight of his attention, the quiet steadiness of him beside you, and it sent a warmth blooming in your chest.

Finally, after a moment of silence, Bucky stood, his chair scraping softly against the floor. He held out a hand toward you, his expression thoughtful.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and steady.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer right away, his lips curving into a faint, almost shy smile. “Just trust me.”

Without hesitation, you slid your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. His grip was firm yet gentle, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he led you upstairs.

He stopped outside a room you hadn’t paid much attention to before—a smaller space tucked toward the back of the house. He pushed the door open, revealing a cozy room with soft light spilling in through a single window that overlooked the backyard. The walls were bare, the wooden floor scuffed in places, and a faint scent of dust lingered in the air.

Bucky stepped inside, his movements slower now, as though he were treading carefully through the weight of his thoughts. He turned to face you, his hand still holding yours, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when you finish your articles,” he began, his voice quiet but steady, his gaze unwavering. “But for me… you’ve become someone so important. So precious.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering against your ribs as his words settled into the quiet of the room.

“And I was thinking,” he continued, glancing around the room before meeting your gaze again, “if you’re okay with it… I’d like you to have this room. A place that’s yours. A place in my house.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your lips parting in surprise.

“It’s not much,” he added quickly, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture you’d come to recognize as one he made when he wasn’t sure of himself. “But… I want you to feel like this is your home, too. If you want it to be.”

The tears came before you could stop them, welling up and spilling down your cheeks as you clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, his brows knitting together in concern as he stepped closer. His hand came up, his thumb brushing under your eye to catch the tears. “What’s wrong? Did I say something—”

“No,” you interrupted, laughing shakily as you lowered your hand. “No, it’s just… you have this habit of making me cry happy tears, you know that?”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You nodded, blinking back more tears. Your voice trembled as you said, “It’s perfect, Bucky. I’d love to make this my room.”

He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as though a weight had been lifted. “Good,” he said simply, the word carrying more emotion than you thought possible.

Before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet certainty that made you feel like nothing in the world could touch you. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, and you let yourself melt into the warmth of him, your own arms circling his waist.

As he held you, the room seemed to shift. It wasn’t just an empty space anymore. It wasn’t just walls and floors waiting to be filled. It was a promise.

And as you closed your eyes, you realized that this wasn’t just his house or his project. It wasn’t just a place to rebuild his past.

It was home. For both of you.

---

Two weeks in, the house had begun its metamorphosis. Once a husk of memories and neglect, it now breathed new life with every passing day. Fresh paint imbued the walls with a crisp brightness, floors gleamed after hours of sanding and polishing, and furniture, though sparse, stood proud in its newfound home. The air smelled of sawdust and paint, a strange mix of effort and hope.

The to-do list was still long, but you were ahead of schedule—thanks mostly to Bucky’s tireless determination. He had a knack for wrangling stubborn beams into place, coaxing even the most unwilling pieces of wood and stone to bend to his will. You admired that about him. Of course, admiration came with its own challenges.

Working with Bucky wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. It wasn’t his teasing, though he was infuriatingly good at it. Nor was it his occasional bossiness, which, if you were being honest, was often justified. No, the real problem was simpler. It was him. Just... him.

Bucky Barnes was handsome—ridiculously so. You’d always known that. But knowing and enduring it on a daily basis were two very different things. Spending every waking moment with him, watching the way his muscles flexed under strain, the easy confidence in his movements—it was maddening. And then there was his arm.

You hadn’t been prepared for how mesmerizing that sleek vibranium arm would be, how the sunlight glinted off it like molten silver. It moved with such precision, every motion fluid and deliberate, as if it were an extension of his will. Your mind betrayed you far too often, conjuring scenarios you had no business entertaining: the feel of that arm pinning you to a wall, the chill of the metal against your skin, the impossible strength that could pull you closer with a single motion.

You scolded yourself endlessly. But no amount of internal reprimands could keep your traitorous gaze from wandering. Especially not today.

The weather had turned. The suffocating heat clung to the air, thick and relentless. Naturally, Bucky decided this was the perfect day to forego his usual work shirt in favor of a gray tank top. It clung to him in ways that felt unfair, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders, the hard planes of his chest, the way his biceps flexed with every movement. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, tracing lines down his neck and arms, and it was impossible to look away.

You tried to focus. You really did. But the more you sanded, painted, or hammered, the more your gaze drifted, stealing glances when you thought he wasn’t looking.

You were wrong.

---

It started innocently enough—or so you told yourself. You were sanding the edges of a wooden shelf, the rhythmic back-and-forth motion of your hands lulling you into a daze. Bucky was across the room, lifting a heavy plank of wood onto his shoulder. The play of muscle beneath his skin was mesmerizing, a symphony of strength and precision that left you momentarily breathless.

You didn’t realize you were staring until you caught the smirk tugging at his lips.

“See something you like?” His voice was low, rich with amusement, and it jolted you back to reality.

Your cheeks burned as you scrambled for a response. “What? No! I—I wasn’t—”

“Sure, doll,” he drawled, the smirk widening into a grin. “Whatever you say.”

You ducked your head, returning your focus to the shelf as if it held the answers to the universe. Maybe if you worked hard enough, he’d let it go.

He didn’t.

---

The teasing only escalated.

The next day, you were handing him tools while he worked on the kitchen counter. It should’ve been a simple task, but every time he flexed his biceps or leaned forward, your brain short-circuited. You could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of sawdust and sweat, and it was all too distracting.

“You okay over there?” he asked, his tone casual, though the hint of a grin betrayed him.

“Fine,” you replied, too quickly, snapping your gaze away.

“You sure?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, his grin maddeningly smug. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Not distracted by anything, are you?”

Your scowl was immediate. You shoved a wrench into his hand with a bit more force than necessary. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, chuckling softly as he turned back to his work. “If you say so.”

---

And then there was the moment that nearly broke you.

He’d been crouched near the floor, adjusting something beneath the kitchen cabinets. You weren’t even sure what he was doing; all you could focus on was the way his jeans hugged his hips, the way his muscles shifted as he moved. Your gaze lingered just a second too long.

“You know,” he said without turning, his tone casual but tinged with mischief, “if you want a better look, you could just ask.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

Bucky stood slowly, brushing off his hands as he turned to face you. His grin was wicked, the kind that spelled trouble. “Caught you staring again, doll.”

“I wasn’t staring!” you protested, the heat rising to your face faster than you could contain it.

“Oh, you definitely were.” He took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “First my arms, now my ass. What’s next?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, his laughter warm and infuriating. Gently, he pulled your hands away from your face, his touch firm but careful. His gaze softened, a playful tilt to his head as he studied you. “Admit it—you like what you see.”

“I’m not admitting anything,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

His smirk returned, though it was lighter now, almost teasingly affectionate. “Alright, fine. I’ll leave you alone—for now. But if you keep looking at me like that, doll, I might start to think you’ve got a crush.”

You sputtered, torn between laughing and crying, as he stepped back and returned to his work, his chuckle echoing through the room.

“You’re insufferable,” you called after him, though your voice lacked the bite you intended.

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he shot back, his grin audible in his voice.

You hated how much you liked it.

---

For the rest of the day, Bucky cranked up his 1940s charm to a level that was equal parts infuriating and intoxicating. He leaned into his words with a slow, deliberate drawl, his confidence radiating in a way that made your stomach flip—and your patience fray.

"Careful with that hammer, sweetheart," he teased as you struggled with a stubborn nail. The board beneath your hands refused to cooperate, and every tap of the hammer only worsened your frustration. Bucky’s voice, rich with amusement, drifted over your shoulder. "Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Not that I’d mind takin’ care of you."

Your hands stilled, the hammer dangling precariously from your grip as you whipped your head around to glare at him. He was leaning casually against the wall, arms folded across his chest, his smile smug and infuriatingly attractive.

“You’re lucky I like you, Barnes,” you snapped, though your voice held none of the heat you intended.

His grin widened. "Like me, huh?" He straightened, taking a step closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Is that why you’ve been staring at me all week?"

You fumbled for a retort, your face heating under his gaze. “I hate you,” you muttered instead, but the treacherous smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you.

"Sure you do," he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he returned to his work.

---

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, painting the room in hues of amber and gold, you were a flustered mess. Every teasing comment, every smug grin, every subtle brush of his hand had worn you down. And Bucky? He looked like he was having the time of his life, his laughter ringing out every time he managed to get a rise out of you.

As you packed up your tools, your mind was racing. You shoved nails and screws into a box with unnecessary force, pointedly avoiding the tall, broad figure moving toward you. But he wasn’t one to be ignored.

“Good work today,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the table, his tone so smug it made your teeth clench.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, not bothering to look up.

Bucky chuckled, and the sound was warm, a little too soft, and far too dangerous. Before you could move away, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?” His voice was lower now, quieter, and the change made your pulse quicken.

You froze, your breath catching as your eyes darted up to meet his. His gaze was steady, warm, and just a little too intense. And then, before you could say or do anything, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“See you tomorrow, doll,” he murmured, his voice like velvet as he pulled away.

You stood there, your heart pounding and your cheeks burning, watching as he walked away with a confident swagger that made you want to scream.

And yet, despite the smugness and the teasing and the way he drove you absolutely insane, you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face.

Because, damn it, you did like him.

---

James Barnes – Brooklyn’s Son and Brother

There’s something that shifts in James Buchanan Barnes when he talks about his family.

The stoicism he wears like armor—the careful wall that keeps the world at arm’s length—melts away. His sharp features soften, his eyes taking on a warmth that reminds you of a fire burning low on a winter’s night. It’s as though, for a moment, the weight of his past slips away, and he becomes someone else entirely: a boy from Brooklyn, proud and full of love.

When he talks about his mother, his tone is reverent, tender in a way that’s rare for him. “She was the heart of everything,” he says, his voice tinged with quiet nostalgia. His lips curve into a faint smile, as though recalling a memory so vivid he can almost touch it. “She ran the house like clockwork. Always knew exactly what we needed—even when we didn’t.”

His eyes light up as he talks about her cooking. “Best roast chicken in Brooklyn, no contest. And her pies? God, she made this apple pie that’d make you weep.” He chuckles, his voice thick with affection. “She’d always sneak me an extra slice when she thought no one was lookin’. Said I needed it to keep up my strength.”

When the conversation shifts to his father, there’s a quiet respect in his tone, steady and unshakable. “My dad wasn’t a man of many words,” he says, his gaze growing distant. “But when he spoke, you listened. He worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known. Always made sure we had enough, even if it meant he went without.”

His smile grows softer as he talks about his sisters, the faintest edge of brotherly exasperation coloring his words. “Winnie was the quiet one—always had her nose buried in a book. But she was sharp. Smarter than I’ll ever be.” He pauses, shaking his head fondly. “And Rebecca? She was a menace. She’d steal my hat just to see me chase her around the house. She drove me crazy, but I loved her to pieces. Still do.”

When he talks about holidays at the Barnes house, his voice takes on a wistful note. “Ma went all out for Christmas,” he says, his expression softening further. “The whole house smelled like cinnamon and pine. Winnie and Rebecca would string popcorn for the tree, and I’d help Dad chop firewood for the stove. It wasn’t much, but it was home. And it was perfect.”

In these moments, you see the man behind the soldier—the boy who once laughed and loved and dreamed in a small house in Brooklyn. You see the brother, the son, the protector.

James Barnes isn’t just the Winter Soldier. He isn’t just a man haunted by shadows and ghosts.

He’s James Buchanan Barnes, and he’s extraordinary.

---

When you handed the article to Bucky, his reaction was immediate. His lips quirked into a soft smile as he read the first few lines, his blue eyes scanning the page with quiet intensity. You watched him carefully, your heart thudding in your chest. There was something about seeing him so focused, the way his brow furrowed slightly, the way his thumb brushed absently against the edge of the paper, that made it impossible to look away.

By the time he finished, his expression had shifted into something deeper, more contemplative. He set the pages down gently, almost reverently, as if they were something precious.

“This is… really good,” he said finally, his voice low and sincere.

Relief flooded through you, and you leaned back against the table, your shoulders relaxing. “I’m glad you think so. I was a little nervous about this one.”

His brows knit together slightly as he tilted his head. “Why?”

You shrugged, feeling the weight of your own words before you spoke them. “It’s personal. I wanted to do it justice.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze meeting yours, steady and unwavering. “You did,” he said, and the quiet conviction in his voice made your chest tighten.

There was a pause, a moment that stretched between you like a taut thread. Then his expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “But you’ve been working on these articles nonstop,” he said, his tone gentler now. “Helping me with the house all day, then staying up late to write… You’re going to burn yourself out.”

You waved him off with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m fine, Bucky. Really. I write when I feel like it—it’s not as bad as you think.”

He didn’t look convinced. His jaw tightened slightly, and his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than they should have. But he let it go. For now.

---

That evening, you lost track of time.

The house had gone quiet, the sounds of hammering and sanding replaced by the hum of cicadas outside the window. The soft golden glow of the desk lamp illuminated the pages scattered in front of you, and you worked in a steady rhythm, the scratching of your pen the only sound in the room.

When you finally glanced at the clock, the numbers seemed to blur in front of your tired eyes. You groaned, leaning back in your chair and rubbing the back of your neck. The ache in your shoulders reminded you of how long you’d been sitting there, hunched over your work.

“I guess I should head home,” you murmured, more to yourself than to anyone else, as you began to gather your things. But when your gaze flicked to the window and you saw just how dark it was outside, you hesitated. The shadows were deep, the kind that made the quiet countryside feel a little too still, a little too lonely.

“Actually…” you said, trailing off as you glanced over at Bucky. He was across the room, carefully organizing the tools you’d both been using earlier, his broad shoulders silhouetted by the faint glow of the kitchen light. “It’s kind of late. Maybe I’ll just stay here tonight.”

He froze, his movements halting for just a fraction of a second before he straightened and turned to look at you. “You, uh… you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, your tone casual even as your heart began to pick up speed. “It’s not like I haven’t crashed here before.”

“Right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting to the floor. “It’s just… there’s only one bed right now. The other beds and couches don’t come until the end of the week. We threw the old ones out, remember?”

You blinked, the realization hitting you like a freight train. “Oh.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offered quickly, his words tumbling out like they’d been waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“No way,” you said, shaking your head firmly. “This is your house. If anyone’s sleeping on the floor, it’s me.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he said, his voice taking on that low, commanding tone that always made your breath catch.

“Well, neither are you,” you shot back, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

The two of you stood there, locked in a silent standoff. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were weighing his next move. Finally, you sighed, rolling your eyes. “We’re both adults, right? We can share the bed. It’s not a big deal.”

Bucky looked like he was about to argue, his mouth opening slightly before he shut it again. He hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the door to the bedroom. Then, to your utter disbelief, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a crooked grin.

“You sure you’ll be able to keep your hands off me, doll?” he teased, though there was a faint edge of uncertainty in his voice that made your stomach flutter.

You rolled your eyes, determined not to let him see the heat rising to your cheeks. “Get over yourself, Barnes. Let’s go.”

---

The bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the thin curtains and casting silver shadows across the walls. The bed—just a simple mattress on a sturdy frame—sat in the center of the room, looking both impossibly large and far too small at the same time.

Bucky lingered by the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders tense. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable in the faint light.

“You take the left side,” you said, breaking the silence as you dropped your bag onto the floor. “I’m a right-side sleeper anyway.”

“Alright,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he settled on his side, his movements careful, as if he were afraid of breaking something. You slid in on the other side, keeping a respectful distance between you, though the proximity still felt electric.

The room fell silent, the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of every sound: the rustle of the sheets, the soft inhale and exhale of breath, the faint creak of the floorboards as the house settled around you.

“You comfortable?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and rough, the sound of it cutting through the stillness like a blade.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though your heart was racing in your chest.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You stared up at the ceiling, the faint outline of the beams above blending into the shadows, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t quite pin down.

And then, just as your eyes began to grow heavy, his voice broke the silence again, softer this time. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for… y’know. Everything. The article, the house… putting up with me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the outline of his profile in the moonlight. There was something vulnerable about the way he lay there, his face turned toward the ceiling, his expression open in a way you rarely saw.

“You don’t have to thank me, Bucky,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond right away, and you thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. But then he turned his head, his gaze meeting yours, and the weight of it made your breath catch.

“Goodnight, doll,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

And as you lay there, the warmth of him just a few inches away, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t mind losing a little sleep tonight.

---

You fell asleep quickly, the exhaustion of the long day pulling you under like a heavy tide. The bed was warm, and Bucky’s steady breathing beside you was oddly comforting, a quiet rhythm that soothed the tension in your muscles. But sometime in the night, a faint sound stirred you from sleep.

It started as a murmur, low and unintelligible, growing into fragmented whispers and uneven breaths. You blinked into the darkness, the moonlight casting faint silver shadows across the room. Turning your head, you saw him.

Bucky was restless, his brow furrowed, his lips moving soundlessly. His fists clenched the sheets, the vibranium arm flexing with a metallic whir as his body jerked suddenly, a soft, strangled sound escaping his throat.

“Bucky,” you whispered, reaching out instinctively to shake his shoulder. “Bucky, wake up.”

Before you could process what was happening, his body moved on instinct. His hand shot out, pinning you to the bed with a grip that was firm but not painful. The weight of him hovered over you, his metal hand curling around your throat—not tight, but enough to send a shiver of fear and adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Bucky,” you said again, louder this time, your voice steady despite the hammering of your heart.

His eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, his chest heaving as if he’d just surfaced from drowning. For a moment, he didn’t seem to see you, his grip faltering as panic overtook him. Then recognition dawned, and he scrambled away from you, his breathing ragged and uneven.

“Oh God,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed himself against the far wall. His hands trembled, one flesh, one metal, both visibly shaking as he looked at you in horror. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I would never—”

“Bucky,” you interrupted softly, sitting up and rubbing your neck where his hand had rested. There was no pain, only the lingering ghost of his touch. You moved toward him cautiously, like approaching a frightened animal. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“It’s not okay,” he said, his voice sharp and raw. His shoulders hunched as though he were bracing for a blow, and his eyes were glassy with shame. “I could’ve hurt you. I—”

“You didn’t,” you said firmly, cutting him off before he could spiral further. Crawling across the bed, you reached for him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. “Look at me, Bucky. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

His head shook, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack. “You don’t understand,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely audible. “I could’ve killed you. In my sleep. Like it was nothing. I—”

“Stop,” you said, your voice soft but commanding. Carefully, you slid your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened at first, but you didn’t let go, pressing your cheek against his shoulder and squeezing just a little tighter. “You didn’t. You won’t. Do you know why?”

He didn’t respond, his body still rigid beneath your touch.

“Because you’re a good man, Bucky Barnes,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his shoulder. “Even in your worst nightmares, you didn’t hurt me. That’s who you are.”

For a moment, he was silent, his breathing slowing just enough to let you know he was listening. Then, without thinking, you pressed a kiss to the cool vibranium of his arm, tracing the etched lines with your fingers. The metal was cold against your skin, but somehow, it felt warm beneath your touch.

“Honestly,” you said suddenly, the words slipping out before you could stop them, “it was kind of hot.”

His head jerked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. And then, to your utter shock, he laughed—a soft, breathless sound that was almost foreign coming from him. It was rough, unpracticed, like he hadn’t done it in years, but it was real.

“You’re something else,” he said finally, shaking his head as a faint smile tugged at his lips.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, and then, in one smooth motion, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was soft, tender, full of unspoken apologies and quiet gratitude. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time that night, you saw something like peace in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. Instead, you pulled him back to bed, wrapping your arms around him as he rested his head on your shoulder. His body was still tense, but as the minutes passed, he began to relax, his breathing evening out until it matched yours.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky slept through the night.

---

When morning came, something was different.

Bucky wasn’t distant, exactly, but the teasing remarks, the soft smiles, the casual touches—all of it was gone. He worked in silence, his shoulders hunched as though carrying an invisible weight. His eyes, usually so sharp and alert, were distant, staring past you to something only he could see.

You tried everything to bring him back. You cracked jokes, deliberately messed up measurements just to hear him scold you in that exasperated tone, and even ordered pizza from that questionable hole-in-the-wall place he loved. The grease-stained box sat untouched on the table, and the half-hearted smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes.

By evening, your patience had worn thin.

When Steve stopped by to check on the house, you pulled him aside, your voice low and urgent. “Steve, what do you do when Bucky gets like this?”

Steve’s expression softened, a familiar sadness flashing across his face. “I leave him alone,” he said quietly. “Sometimes he just needs space to work through it.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “That’s it? You just let him sit there and brood until he feels better?”

“It’s not about letting him brood,” Steve said gently. “It’s about giving him time. He’s been through more than anyone should ever have to endure. Sometimes space is the best thing you can give him.”

You nodded reluctantly, though the answer didn’t sit right with you. Giving him space might work for Steve, but it wasn’t going to work for you. You cared too much to sit idly by.

---

That evening, an idea struck you. It was impulsive, maybe even a little absurd, but you didn’t care. Pulling out your phone, you made a quick call, cashing in a favor with a contact from your journalism days.

A private cinema room. Short notice. But it was perfect.

By the time you had everything set—junk food packed into a bag, drinks shoved into a cooler—you found Bucky sitting on the porch, his arms resting on his knees as he stared at the horizon. The fading light painted his face in soft oranges and golds, but the shadows under his eyes told a different story.

“Come with me,” you said, holding out your hand.

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing. “Where?”

You smiled, refusing to let him shut himself off again. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a soft sigh, he stood, slipping his hands into his pockets as he followed you to the car.

---

Bucky didn’t say much during the drive. He sat quietly, his gaze fixed out the window as the twilight deepened into night, the city lights painting faint streaks of gold and white across his face. Every so often, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he were trying to piece together where you were taking him, but he didn’t ask.

Still, you could feel his curiosity growing the closer you got to your destination. When you finally pulled up outside the private cinema, his head tilted slightly, his lips parting in faint confusion.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing the bag of snacks from the backseat and gesturing for him to follow.

The small building was unassuming from the outside, but as you led him through the door, the cozy warmth of the space unfolded. Soft, ambient lighting illuminated the intimate room, which held just a handful of plush seats and a screen that stretched across the far wall. The faint smell of popcorn lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of countless movie nights past.

A staff member greeted you quietly, handing over a sleek remote for the projector before slipping away, leaving the two of you alone in the private space.

Bucky lingered by the doorway, his eyes sweeping over the room. His confusion melted into something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“You did this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you said, setting the bag of snacks on the small table near the seats. “You’ve been a little… off today, and I thought this might cheer you up.”

He blinked, his expression unreadable at first. But then, slowly, the faintest smile tugged at the corners of his lips—the first real one you’d seen all day. “What movie?”

“One from your list,” you replied, grinning as you sank into one of the seats and patted the spot beside you. “It wasn’t easy to track down, but thankfully, they had it.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing against the back of the nearest chair as he stared at you. Finally, he sat down beside you, his posture stiff at first but gradually relaxing as the lights dimmed and the screen flickered to life.

When the opening credits began to roll, something shifted. He leaned back into his seat, his shoulders losing some of their tension as his gaze fixed on the screen.

---

Halfway through the movie, the quiet settled comfortably around you, broken only by the occasional sound of a chip crunching or a faint laugh from the film. It was nice, easy in a way you hadn’t felt all day.

But then Bucky’s voice cut through the silence, low and raw.

“Last night scared me.”

The words were soft, almost hesitant, but they struck like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through the calm. You turned to him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability etched into his face.

“I was so close to hurting you,” he continued, his eyes fixed on the screen but unfocused, as if he were looking straight through it. “So close to losing you. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop… going over it in my head.”

“Bucky,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. His vibranium fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” he said, his voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. You shouldn’t have to wake up wondering if I’m going to—”

“Hey,” you interrupted firmly, squeezing his arm to draw his attention. His head turned toward you, and the anguish in his eyes made your heart ache. “You didn’t hurt me. Even in the middle of a nightmare, you didn’t hurt me. Do you know what that says about you?”

He shook his head, his jaw tight as if he were trying to hold something back. His fists clenched on his lap, the metal hand gleaming faintly in the light from the screen.

“It says you’re an incredible man,” you continued, your voice steady and sure. “A man who’s been through hell and still manages to be kind and thoughtful and good. You’re allowed to have nightmares, Bucky. Everyone does. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. The silence stretched between you, heavy and full of unspoken words. Then, slowly, his hands relaxed, his fingers uncurling as his breathing evened out.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you left,” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost fragile. “You make everything feel… normal. Easy. And I don’t deserve that.”

The pain in his voice made your throat tighten, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you.

“You deserve all of it, Bucky,” you said firmly. “And more.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes searching yours for something you weren’t sure he even knew he was looking for. Then, as if a dam had broken, he leaned in, his hand lifting to cradle the back of your head.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft or tentative like before. It was fierce, desperate, full of all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. His fingers tangled in your hair, his other hand settling on your waist as he pulled you closer, as if afraid you might slip away.

You kissed him back just as fervently, your hands sliding into his hair, your heart pounding as the rest of the world faded into nothing.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. His lips curved into a small, genuine smile—the kind that made your chest ache in the best way.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

You smiled back, threading your fingers through his. “Come on. Let’s finish the movie.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, as he leaned back in his seat. His hand stayed in yours, his fingers laced with yours as the movie continued to play.

And as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at the faint, contented smile on his face. The weight that had pressed on him all day seemed lighter now, the shadows in his eyes not quite as dark.

In that moment, you made a silent promise to yourself. Whatever it took—whatever he needed—you would do it.

Because seeing him like this, peaceful and at ease, was worth everything.

---

The Heart of a Soldier

James Buchanan Barnes is a man of contrasts.

He is strength and vulnerability woven together into something impossibly complex. A ghost of the past, trying to carve a future out of the rubble. A man who carries more pain than most of us could imagine, yet still somehow puts others before himself, time and time again.

When you first meet him, you see the strength. It’s impossible not to. The broad shoulders, the quiet intensity of his gaze, the vibranium arm that gleams like a badge of survival and sacrifice. He moves with a deliberate grace, each step purposeful, every motion controlled. Even when he says nothing, his presence commands the room.

But if you spend enough time with him, you’ll start to notice the cracks. The subtle moments that betray the weight he carries. The slight tremor in his hands as he reaches for his morning coffee. The way his jaw tightens at the mention of the Winter Soldier, like the very name wraps around his throat and squeezes. The distant look in his eyes when the room gets too quiet, too still—when the ghosts of his past come creeping in to haunt him.

James Barnes is a man haunted. By memories that feel stolen. By faces he can never forget. By a ledger he believes can never be wiped clean, no matter how many lives he saves or how much good he does.

And yet, despite everything, he cares.

He cares with a fierceness that is both breathtaking and heartbreaking.

I’ve seen it in the way his blue-gray eyes scan a room, always vigilant, always watching for potential dangers that no one else has even considered. I’ve seen it in the way he talks about his past—not with bitterness, but with guilt so heavy it weighs down his every word, as if the things done to him were somehow his fault. And I’ve seen it in the way he puts everyone else before himself, even when he’s quietly falling apart.

There’s a fragility to James Barnes, but it’s not the kind born of weakness. It’s the fragility of a man who has been shattered and pieced back together more times than he can count. It’s the fragility of someone who knows exactly how easily those cracks can form again.

But there’s also a resilience in him that takes your breath away.

Because no matter how many times he’s been broken, no matter how often he’s been knocked down, he gets back up. He keeps fighting—not just for himself, but for everyone who needs him. For his friends. For the world. For people who will never know his name or what he’s sacrificed for them.

James Barnes doesn’t see himself the way others do. He doesn’t see the incredible strength it takes to wake up every morning and choose to keep going. He doesn’t see the courage it takes to face a world that has judged him unfairly and still stand tall.

But I see it.

I see it in the way he carries his pain like a shield, always trying to protect the people he loves from the weight of it. I see it in the way he clings to his humanity, even when the world tried to rip it away from him. I see it in the way he cares—so deeply, so unconditionally—even when he believes he doesn’t deserve to.

James Barnes is not perfect. He’s messy, flawed, and so deeply, painfully human. But that’s what makes him extraordinary.

He is proof that even in the face of unimaginable pain, there is still room for love. For kindness. For hope.

And that is the heart of James Barnes—the soldier, the survivor, the man who refuses to give up.

---

The next morning, you handed the article to Bucky, your heart pounding as he took the carefully printed pages from your hands.

He didn’t say anything at first. His blue-gray eyes moved steadily over the words, his expression unreadable but intensely focused. You watched him carefully, noting the way his brow furrowed, then smoothed, then furrowed again. The faint twitch of his lips hinted at something—whether a smile or a grimace, you couldn’t tell.

When he finally set the paper down, his hand lingered on it for a moment, his thumb brushing against the edge as though he wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

“This is…” he began, his voice low and a little unsteady. “It’s beautiful. But…”

“But you’re not ready for it to be out there,” you finished for him, your voice calm and understanding.

Bucky nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t think I ever will be. Not with this one.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to place your hand over his. The warmth of his touch felt steady, grounding. “What I said the first day still stands, Bucky. You’re in control of this. If you want me to burn it, I’ll burn it. If you want to keep it for yourself, I’ll hand it over, and the world will never know.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then he reached for the pages again, folding them carefully with the precision of someone handling something precious. Without a word, he tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket, patting the fabric lightly as if to reassure himself they were safe.

“I think I’ll keep it,” he said quietly. “At least for now.”

“Take all the time you need,” you said gently, your smile never faltering.

His eyes lifted to meet yours then, and the weight of his gaze made your breath catch. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite name—gratitude, certainly, but something deeper too. Affection? Trust? Whatever it was, it made your chest ache in the best way.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Always,” you replied.

And as the morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft golden glow across the room, you felt the weight of his trust settle over you like a promise. It was fragile and precious, something you would protect with everything you had.

Because James Buchanan Barnes deserved that. And so much more.

---

Bucky Barnes was a tease.

Not the innocent kind, either. No, this man had decades of charm sharpened by a 1940s sense of confidence and an uncanny ability to get under your skin. And the more comfortable he got around you, the more his teasing side seemed to flourish.

It started subtly—offhand comments, little smirks whenever he caught you staring too long. But lately, it had escalated to a level you could only describe as weaponized flirtation.

And you were not okay.

The sweltering summer heat wasn’t helping. On the hottest days, Bucky had taken to ditching his shirts altogether while he worked on the house renovations. He’d claim it was a practical choice, muttering something about how it was “too damn hot for anything else,” but the smug look he wore every time he caught you sneaking a glance told a very different story.

“Enjoying the view, doll?” he’d ask, his voice dripping with amusement, lips curling into that maddeningly perfect smirk.

You’d roll your eyes, muttering something about how he needed to get over himself. But the truth was, you were enjoying the view. How could you not? The man looked like he belonged in a sculpture gallery, every muscle flexing with purpose as he lifted beams, sanded down furniture, or hammered nails into place.

And Bucky knew it.

It wasn’t just the shirtlessness, either. Oh no, he liked to test your patience in other, more creative ways.

One afternoon, you were in the makeshift kitchen—a chaotic but functional space you’d thrown together while waiting for the new appliances to arrive—stirring a pot of sauce. Bucky sauntered in, his presence so effortless it sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Excuse me, doll,” he murmured, leaning over you to grab something from the shelf above your head.

His chest brushed against your back, the cool vibranium of his arm resting lightly on the counter for balance.

Your breath hitched. You froze, spoon suspended mid-stir, as his warmth pressed against you. “You, uh… you need something?”

“Just the pepper,” he said, his voice casual as he reached for the container and stepped back.

When you turned, his grin was positively wicked.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled, glaring at him as the heat rose to your cheeks.

“And you’re adorable when you blush,” he shot back, winking before strolling out of the kitchen like he hadn’t just stolen the air from your lungs.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. The man was going to be the death of you.

---

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of work, you decided you both deserved a break. The house renovations had consumed your lives for weeks, and the weariness clung to your body like an old coat you couldn’t shake off. On your way over to the house, you grabbed a bottle of wine, figuring it would be the perfect way to unwind and steal back a moment of normalcy.

“I brought reinforcements,” you announced as you stepped through the door, holding up the bottle with a triumphant grin.

Bucky looked up from where he was crouched on the living room floor, fiddling with the legs of a coffee table he’d been assembling. His hair was tousled, a few stubborn strands sticking to his forehead, and his hands were smudged with wood stain. When his eyes landed on the bottle, one brow arched in curiosity.

“Wine, huh?” he said, rising to his full height and wiping his hands on a rag. “What’s the occasion?”

“Surviving another week,” you quipped, kicking off your shoes. “And I don’t feel like writing tonight, so I figured we could celebrate.”

His lips curved into that warm, easy smile that never failed to make your stomach flip. He tossed the rag onto a nearby chair and walked toward you, his movements unhurried but deliberate.

“You know what?” he said, his voice softening. “I like the way you think.”

---

A few minutes later, you were both settled on the worn but comfortable couch, two glasses of wine in hand, a classic movie flickering on the new TV in the background. The first glass went down smoothly, the wine melting the tension from your shoulders and loosening the knots in your mind. Conversation flowed easily between you, punctuated by bursts of laughter and playful jabs as you recounted the day’s mishaps.

It was the second glass, however, that emboldened you.

You weren’t sure exactly when it started—maybe it was the way his arm brushed against yours as he reached for his glass, the heat of his skin lingering longer than it should have. Or maybe it was the way his smile lingered too, his gaze dipping to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. Whatever it was, the subtle shift in the air between you was impossible to ignore.

Your hand drifted to his thigh, resting there lightly as you turned to ask him a question about the movie. The warmth of his leg seeped into your palm, grounding you, and though he didn’t say a word, you caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he glanced down at your hand. A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips, but he didn’t move to stop you.

A few minutes later, you found yourself leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. The scent of him—wood shavings, a hint of sweat, and something that was purely Bucky—filled your senses, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“You comfortable there, doll?” he teased, though his voice had softened, the usual edge replaced with something gentler, more affectionate.

“Very,” you replied, your fingers absently tracing small, lazy circles on his thigh.

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, but the tension in his body shifted, a subtle crackling like static electricity sparking in the air between you.

When he turned his head to look at you, his blue-gray eyes were darker than usual, the light from the TV casting soft shadows across his face. His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest of moments before flicking back up to meet yours.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that started soft, tentative, testing the fragile line between friendship and something far deeper. But the moment he responded—his hand sliding to your waist, his lips pressing more firmly against yours—the kiss deepened, unraveling every ounce of restraint you’d been holding onto.

His vibranium hand found the back of your neck, the coolness of the metal a sharp contrast to the heat of the moment. You shifted, straddling his hips without even realizing you’d done it, your hands moving to his chest, trailing slowly downward as your mind blurred with the feel of him beneath you.

But just as your fingers began to wander lower, he caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm.

“Not so fast, doll,” he murmured, his voice low and a little breathless.

You blinked at him, your cheeks flushing as you realized what you’d been doing. “Sorry, I—”

He shook his head, a soft smile spreading across his face as he cupped your cheek. “Don’t apologize. Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to…”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m still a gentleman,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time slower, sweeter, his lips lingering against yours. “And if we’re going to do this, I’d like to take you out first. A proper date.”

His words sent your heart tumbling into a freefall, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and you felt the sincerity in his words settle warmly in your chest. “What do you say?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”

His chuckle was soft, almost disbelieving, as though he hadn’t entirely expected you to agree so quickly. He pulled you into another kiss, this one unhurried and tender, the kind that made your toes curl and your pulse race.

When you finally pulled back, you rested against him, your head on his chest as the sound of his heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your ear. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close as the movie played on, its faint dialogue a distant murmur neither of you paid attention to.

His fingers found yours, lacing them together with a quiet intimacy that made your chest ache in the best way.

And as you lay there, wrapped in his warmth, you couldn’t help but think that this was the start of something wonderful. Something neither of you had planned for but both of you had been waiting for.

Because with Bucky, everything felt right.

---

Bucky couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

He’d faced Hydra assassins, alien armies, and the demons of his own past. He’d stared death in the face more times than he cared to count. But somehow, planning a date—one simple evening—felt like the most terrifying thing he’d ever done.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He did. More than he wanted to admit, even to himself. It was just that he had no clue where to start. The world had changed so much since the last time he’d done anything remotely romantic. What did people even do on dates these days?

Dinner and a movie? Too cliché. A trendy rooftop bar? That didn’t feel like him at all. A fancy restaurant? Too formal, too stiff, and way too far outside his comfort zone.

He spent an entire morning agonizing over it, pacing back and forth across the freshly polished floor of the house like a man on trial. By the time lunch rolled around, he admitted defeat: he needed help.

Unfortunately, his options were… limited.

Tony? Absolutely not. The man would never let him live it down. Steve? He considered it for half a second before dismissing the idea. Steve’s idea of romance was still stuck somewhere in 1943, and while the simplicity of “dancing to some old tunes” was charming, it wasn’t the vibe Bucky was going for. Clint? Off the grid with his family, and his only response to Bucky’s text had been: "Figure it out, Barnes. I’m on vacation." Natasha? The thought of asking her for advice was enough to make him shudder. She’d never let him hear the end of it.

That left… Sam.

Bucky grimaced as he picked up his phone. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Sam answered on the second ring, and the teasing began almost immediately.

“You’re asking me for dating advice?” Sam’s grin was audible through the phone. “Man, this is too good. Hold on, let me get my phone. Gotta record this for posterity.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Bucky growled, his tone low and threatening.

“Alright, alright,” Sam said, still laughing. “Look, here’s my advice: don’t overthink it. She likes you, Barnes. You don’t need to impress her with some big, elaborate plan. Just keep it simple, keep it natural.”

“Simple,” Bucky repeated, nodding slowly.

“And don’t forget the flowers,” Sam added, clearly still enjoying himself. “Ladies love flowers. You’re welcome.”

Before Bucky could respond, Sam hung up, leaving him standing there with the distinct feeling that he’d just walked into a trap.

---

Armed with Sam’s advice and a determination to make the evening perfect, Bucky got to work.

The newly finished living room became the centerpiece of his plan. He strung up soft, twinkling lights around the ceiling beams, their golden glow casting a warm, inviting ambiance over the room. He wasn’t exactly an expert decorator, but he knew enough to keep it simple. A small vase of fresh flowers sat in the center of the coffee table—elegant and understated, just like you. Around the vase, he placed a few flickering candles, their soft light dancing across the surface of the polished wood.

He ordered food from a place he knew you loved, something comforting and familiar but still special enough for the occasion. The kind of meal that didn’t scream “fancy” but felt meaningful, thoughtful. There was wine, of course, and though Bucky wasn’t much of a drinker, he figured it would help set the mood.

When he stepped back to survey the room, he felt a strange mix of pride and apprehension. It wasn’t perfect—he’d never been one for frills or extravagance—but it felt like him. Honest. Simple. And, more importantly, it felt like you.

---

By the time you arrived, Bucky was a bundle of nerves, though he did his best to hide it.

The knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts, and he crossed the room in a few long strides, pausing for half a second to take a steadying breath before opening it.

You stood there, smiling, holding a small box of pastries in your hands. “I brought dessert,” you said cheerfully, your eyes lighting up as you looked at him.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile back, his nerves easing just a little. “Good,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “I’ve got the rest covered.”

When you stepped into the living room, your eyes widened slightly as you took in the scene. The twinkling lights, the candles, the flowers—it wasn’t over-the-top, but it was thoughtful, intimate. Perfect.

“Bucky…” you said softly, turning to look at him. “You did all this?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah. I, uh… wanted to do something nice. For us.”

Your smile widened, and he felt the last of his nerves melt away.

“It’s perfect,” you said, setting the pastries down on the table and stepping closer to him. “You’re perfect.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would,” you said, your voice warm and sincere.

The evening unfolded like a dream. You shared the meal on the couch, the plates balanced on your laps as you laughed and talked, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. The soft glow of the candles bathed the room in warmth, and the tension of the day melted away with every stolen glance, every shared smile.

At some point, the food was forgotten, and the two of you were curled up together on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm draped loosely around your waist. The warmth of his body against yours felt grounding, steadying, like coming home after a long journey.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured, your voice soft.

He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. “Thank you for saying yes,” he replied, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. Slowly, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was soft and unhurried, a promise wrapped in tenderness.

When you pulled back, your smile was radiant, and Bucky couldn’t help but grin in return.

“You know,” he said, his voice teasing, “Sam was right about the flowers.”

You laughed, the sound light and musical, and pressed another kiss to his lips.

And as the evening stretched on, the two of you tangled together on the couch, the twinkling lights casting shadows that danced across the walls, Bucky felt something he hadn’t in a long, long time.

---

You felt nervous. It wasn’t the kind of nervousness born from inexperience—you weren’t a virgin, and this wasn’t your first time exploring intimacy. But something about this—about being with Bucky—felt so different, so intense, that it left you momentarily paralyzed.

Your heart raced as you sat curled up against him on the couch, the movie on the screen now nothing more than a blur of colors and sound. It had been forgotten long ago. All of your focus had shifted to him—to the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint scent of him—woodsy, clean, and entirely Bucky. The way his arm rested lightly around your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, sent sparks down your spine.

You wanted more.

You wanted to hear his voice, soft and low, saying your name. You wanted to see him lose that careful restraint he always carried. You wanted to feel him—his warmth, his strength, the raw intensity you knew he was holding back.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize your hands had a life of their own.

Your eyes remained blankly fixed on the screen, but your hand drifted downward, almost instinctively. It started small, innocent, just a gentle graze against his stomach through the fabric of his shirt. But the sensation sent a thrill through you, and you didn’t stop there. Slowly, tenderly, your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, brushing against the bare skin of his abdomen.

His skin was warm, firm, the muscles beneath taut and solid. You let your fingertips trace the faint ridges of his abs, moving lower to the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Your touch grew bolder, more deliberate, your movements both curious and deliberate.

You felt his breathing shift before you heard it—a quickened inhale, soft but unmistakable.

Bucky froze for half a second, his chest rising and falling just a bit faster now. At first, it seemed like he was surprised by your touch, caught off guard. But when realization dawned on him, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed still, letting you explore, letting your hands roam freely.

He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to stay calm, to not ruin the moment. He wanted this—God, he wanted this—but he was terrified of moving too fast, of scaring you off. So he stayed quiet, curious and eager to see what you would do next.

But you didn’t know that.

When he didn’t react right away, you hesitated, your confidence faltering slightly. Was he not enjoying this? Did he not want you like you wanted him? The thought made a flicker of doubt creep into your mind, and without thinking, you let your nails rake softly across the skin of his stomach, testing his reaction.

The quiet hiss that escaped his lips was all the answer you needed.

A rush of boldness surged through you. You raised your head and kissed the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin in soft, feather-light touches. His scent overwhelmed your senses, and you felt a shiver run through him as you trailed your kisses downward.

When you reached his collarbone, you nipped at the sensitive skin there, your teeth grazing just hard enough to leave a faint mark.

“Doll,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a jolt of heat through your body. “You’ll leave a mark.”

You smirked against his skin, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Good,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “They’ll know you’re mine.”

Your words sent a chill down his spine, a spark of something primal and unrestrained roaring to life within him. His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, the careful control he always held snapping like a rubber band.

Before you could react, he turned, his movements swift and fluid as he pushed you down against the couch. The air left your lungs in a soft gasp as you found yourself beneath him, his body hovering over yours, his hands braced on either side of your head.

Your eyes widened, your pulse racing as you stared up at him. His breathing was heavy now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at you. But it was his eyes that made your breath catch.

They were darker than you’d ever seen them, a storm of want and need swirling within their depths. He looked at you like you were his entire world, like nothing else existed except for you in this moment. And there was something else there too, something primal and possessive that sent a thrill through you.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat pooling low in your belly, the unmistakable ache building between your thighs. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but not afraid. No, fear was the furthest thing from your mind.

What you felt was something entirely different.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a moment, he hesitated, his breath hitching as if he were holding himself back. But then his resolve broke, and he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but soft.

It was hungry, desperate, and full of a passion he could no longer contain. His hand cupped your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours.

You arched into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath your touch. His weight pinned you to the couch, grounding you, anchoring you to him as your kisses grew more heated, more frantic.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he struggled to regain control. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch soft and reverent in stark contrast to the intensity of the kiss.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

You smiled, your fingers trailing up his arm to rest against the cool vibranium of his shoulder. “Good,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his in a teasing kiss.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “You don’t know what you’ve started, doll.”

“Then show me,” you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

And with that, Bucky’s control shattered completely.

With a strong yet tender motion, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, fitting perfectly against him as though you belonged nowhere else.

“Don’t you dare let me go,” you whispered, your voice soft with laughter, though your words carried a quiet plea.

He kissed your neck, the brush of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. His chuckle was warm, rich, and laced with something deeper. “I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, meant only for your ears, like a sacred promise.

The door to his bedroom creaked open, revealing the sanctuary within—a simple space, bare but comforting. The bed, the only real bed in the house now, beckoned like a haven. He lowered you both onto the soft mattress, his movements careful, as if afraid to break the moment. His metal arm supported him as he leaned over you, the faint gleam catching the dim light. His long hair fell in a cascade around you, strands tickling your face like a silken veil.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t hurried or ravenous. It was soft, achingly tender, and filled with so much love that your chest tightened, the emotions welling up in your throat. You’d never been kissed like this before, as if every touch of his lips were a vow. His hands began to explore your body, slow and reverent, as if learning every curve by heart.

“Can I?” His voice was hushed, his fingers grazing the edges of your dress, a question lingering in the air. Between his gentle hands and the feather-light kisses he pressed against your throat and lips, you felt utterly unraveled.

Words escaped you, but you managed a nod, giving him the silent permission he craved. Yet that wasn’t enough for him. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your neck in a way that stole your breath and sent sparks dancing along your skin.

“And who’s leaving marks now?” you teased, your voice breathy as you tugged lightly at his hair.

His lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “I only return what’s given,” he replied, his fingers tracing the hem of your dress, teasing and testing.

“You can, Bucky,” you said, your voice steady despite the rush of heat coursing through you. “You can do anything to me.”

For a moment, he stilled, the weight of your words sinking in. He swallowed hard, his dark eyes softening as if the trust you’d given him meant more than he could express. Then, a slow, confident smirk tugged at his lips.

He kissed you again—brief, a teasing peck that left you wanting. Sitting up slightly, you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. It fell to the floor, forgotten. You were left in nothing but your underwear—a dark blue set you’d picked on a whim, something prettier than your usual, though you’d never guessed it would matter so much tonight.

His gaze swept over you, lingering, darkening with desire. His nearly black eyes burned as if memorizing every inch of you. The slight hitch in his breath was all the confirmation you needed.

“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe, his eyes tracing the contours of your body as though committing you to memory. The way he looked at you made you feel like more than beautiful—it made you feel like art, something to be cherished and admired.

His lips traveled down your neck, their warmth leaving a trail of fire that seeped into your skin. Gentle, reverent, and yet charged with an intensity that set your nerves alight, his kisses carried a heat that no blanket could rival. Despite the sweltering summer air pressing against the room, you craved this heat, welcomed it, especially when it came from him.

His hands roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every touch. One hand cupped your breast, the other tracing lazy circles along your ribs before his lips replaced his fingers. His thumb grazed your nipple, and you gasped, your body arching instinctively into his touch. Pleasure bloomed under his care, sharp and exquisite, like the first taste of forbidden fruit.

With a deft motion, he pushed the fabric of your bra aside, baring your breast to his hungry gaze. His lips descended, soft yet searing, as his tongue flicked over your nipple, exploring and tasting like a man starved. The sensation sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a quiet moan when his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.

His free hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer as if proximity alone could express what words could not. In a swift, practiced motion, he unhooked your bra and tossed it aside, his movements fluid and precise. On any other night, you might have teased him for his efficiency, but now, all you could do was revel in the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good,” you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips unbidden. His skilled tongue danced across your nipple, teasing and biting, while his hand lavished attention on your other breast, kneading it with gentle care. The contrast between the sharpness of his teeth and the softness of his touch created a perfect harmony, leaving you gasping.

“I’m not planning to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with promise. His hand began its descent, trailing down your body with an almost worshipful attention. He didn’t rush, savoring every curve, every hollow, as if memorizing the map of you. His fingers lingered on your waist, your hips, your stomach, their touch igniting sparks that made you squirm beneath him.

As his lips followed the path his hand had taken, his tongue left a scorching trail across your skin. Every kiss, every caress, unraveled you further, leaving you whimpering and gasping for breath. The sounds that escaped you were raw and unfamiliar, born of a pleasure so intense it was almost terrifying—and yet, you craved more.

Your hands found his arms, the corded strength beneath your fingers grounding you even as you floated in a haze of sensation. When you opened your eyes, a pout formed on your lips as you realized he was still fully clothed.

“This feels unfair,” you murmured, pushing him gently away with a playful shove. With a burst of determination, you straddled him, reversing your positions. His brow arched at the shift, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he allowed you to take control.

“It feels unfair to see you still dressed,” you continued, your voice sultry as you tugged at the hem of his shirt.

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, as his hands moved to help. But you swatted them away, shaking your head. “That’s my job,” you said, your words teasing but firm.

Slowly, you began unbuttoning his shirt, taking your time with each one. The deliberate pace wasn’t for efficiency—it was for the sheer joy of revealing him inch by inch, watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed beneath your touch. His skin was warm, taut, and irresistible.

As you worked your way down, you leaned in, pressing soft kisses along his neck, down his collarbone, and across his chest. He let you guide him, his head tilting back, his lips parting in a quiet exhale of pleasure. When the last button was undone, you pushed the fabric aside, baring him completely to you.

For a moment, you just looked at him, marveling at the way he seemed both strong and vulnerable beneath you. And then you leaned down, letting your lips explore his skin, savoring the salt and warmth of him as your fingers traced the hard lines of his body.

Quickly, he shrugged off his shirt, tossing it carelessly in the same direction as your discarded dress and bra. The fabric landed somewhere forgotten, but the man before you was anything but. Though you’d seen him shirtless before, this time it was different. This time, you didn’t have to avert your eyes, pretending you weren’t staring when you were. Now, you could let your gaze roam freely, drinking him in the same way he devoured the sight of you, his eyes lingering on your bare chest.

And there was so much to take in.

He was shaped like a god—broad shoulders that seemed built to bear the weight of the world, a tapered waist most would envy, and muscles that moved beneath his skin like poetry in motion. But it was the scars that captured you. They told a story, a painful testament to everything he had endured. They marked him, not as broken, but as someone who had survived battles most could never comprehend.

Your expression softened as your eyes traveled over him, and you leaned in, pressing your lips gently to the first scar you saw—a smaller one near his collarbone. He sucked in a sharp breath, the sound raw and unguarded, as if no one had ever dared to touch him there, let alone kiss him. He didn’t even remember how he’d gotten that particular scar.

You moved slowly, reverently, your lips tracing each jagged mark, each uneven line etched into his skin. With every soft kiss, you felt the tension in his body begin to melt away. At first, he seemed unsure, his muscles taut beneath your touch, but as you continued, he relaxed bit by bit, surrendering to the tenderness you offered so freely.

To him, those scars had always been grotesque reminders of his past—of pain, loss, and things he’d rather forget. But here, now, with you lavishing them with love, they felt different. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel ugly or ashamed. He felt... cherished.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. He didn’t care if you saw it, because he knew—he knew—you wouldn’t judge him. You’d only love him. You’d love him the same way you always had, patiently, quietly, steadfastly.

And you did.

You hadn’t said the words yet; they felt too monumental for this fragile, burgeoning moment. You understood that Bucky needed to take things one step at a time, and you were okay with that. Because even without the words, he showed you how he felt. In the way he always thought of you, the little things he did. How he ordered from restaurants he didn’t particularly like just because you loved them. How he listened to you ramble about your day or sing off-key to your favorite songs without complaint. How he sat through the “essential” 21st-century movies you made him watch, even the ones he found ridiculous.

Bucky wasn’t a man of words. He was a man of actions.

When your lips found that scar where flesh gave way to metal, his breath hitched again. This scar was different. It was rawer, harsher—a jagged edge where his humanity ended, and the cold, unyielding metal began. It was a scar he hated, one that still ached on bad days, a reminder of what he had lost.

But you kissed it as if it was no different from the rest of him, as if it was just another part of his story, of him. Your lips lingered, pressing warmth into the unfeeling metal, and he closed his eyes. More tears slipped free, unbidden, but they weren’t just tears of sadness. They were something more profound.

It wasn’t just love he felt from you; it was acceptance. Complete, unconditional acceptance. Of who he had been. Of who he was now. And most importantly, of who he was becoming.

“Let me take care of you, James.”

The sound of his given name on your lips made his eyes snap open. The way you said it—softly, reverently, as though it was the only name that mattered—set something off inside him. When he looked at you, he saw the universe in your eyes. No one had ever looked at him like this before, like he was everything. Like he was your everything.

And he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He pulled you to him, his hands firm but trembling with restraint, and kissed you as though the world were ending. As though you were the only thing worth saving in the wreckage. His lips claimed yours with an intensity that spoke of hunger, of longing, of love so raw it scared him. He kissed you like you were the best damn thing to ever happen to him—because you were.

When he finally pulled back, his chest rising and falling heavily, he gave you a smile that nearly undid you. It was soft and full of a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. His eyes, deep pools of love and trust, held you captive, saying more than words ever could.

That look was all you needed before leaning down, starting your slow, deliberate journey down his body.

Your hands trailed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles and scars with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. You scratched lightly around his ribs, your nails dragging in a way that sent shivers through him. Your tongue flicked playfully at his nipple, teasing him with a warm, wet touch before nipping it lightly with your teeth.

He groaned, his body shifting on the bed, a mix of surprise and pleasure flashing across his face. He looked down at you, a half-hearted glare in his darkened eyes, but he didn’t say a word. Deep down, he didn’t want you to stop. The sharp sting of your bite was a pleasure he hadn’t known he could enjoy, because he knew it came from you. And with you, he trusted completely.

His eyes fluttered closed as your hands drifted lower, deftly undoing his belt. Slowly, deliberately, you opened it, savoring the moment while your tongue continued its exploration of his chest, down his stomach, tracing every ridge and hollow. You took your time, drinking him in like a work of art, tasting him as though he were your favorite flavor.

When his hips lifted to help you slide his pants down, your breath caught in your throat. The sight of him, bare and ready for you, made your mouth water. You didn’t bother hiding your hunger. You’d thought about savoring the moment, teasing him, but tonight your patience was nowhere to be found.

“Can I taste you, Sergeant?”

Your voice was sultry, and the smirk that curled your lips was wicked. You watched his cock twitch at the sound of his rank on your tongue, and it thrilled you. His eyes snapped to yours, darker than you’d ever seen them, devoid of the usual gentle blue hues. There was no innocence left in his gaze—just unbridled desire.

“Can I suck this beautiful cock?” you purred, your voice dripping with want.

His breath hitched, and just when he thought you couldn’t surprise him more, you reached for his left arm—the metal one. The arm that had brought so much fear to others and yet made you look at him with awe. Gently, you guided it over your head, locking his gaze.

“Will you show me how you like it?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky Barnes was speechless. You, with your teasing smirk and bold confidence, had rendered him completely at a loss for words. He stared at you, his lips parting as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Finally, he nodded.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy. Smirking, you mimicked his earlier words, tilting your head. “I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in your belly. His fingers tightened in your hair, tugging just hard enough to remind you that while you were in control for the moment, he could take it back whenever he wanted. The hold was firm but careful, his touch a perfect blend of dominance and care, leaving you breathless.

When a moan slipped from your lips at the pressure, he nearly lost it. The sound of your pleasure, the sight of you beneath him, drove him to the edge. He swallowed hard, his voice rasping when he finally spoke.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want with me, doll,” he breathed, his words like a prayer offered to a goddess.

Then he pulled you into a kiss—rough, passionate, claiming. His teeth caught your lower lip, biting down just enough to draw a groan from you, the sound vibrating against his mouth.

You pulled away from him, your hands firm but teasing as you pushed him back onto the bed. His body yielded to you easily, his left hand still tangled in your hair, the grip soft and almost reverent now. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, stayed locked on yours, watching your every move as if he couldn’t bear to look away.

Settling yourself on the bed between his legs, you leaned in, your lips brushing against the taut muscles of his stomach. Slowly, deliberately, your tongue traced a path downward, tasting the salt of his skin. When you reached his navel, you circled it lazily, savoring the way his body tensed beneath you.

Your hand came to rest on his thigh, steadying yourself as you lowered your head further, your lips skimming along the base of his hardening length. Without breaking eye contact, you nipped at the sensitive skin just beneath his base, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. His hand twitched in your hair, his grip tightening ever so slightly, but he didn’t stop you. He didn’t pull you away.

He wouldn’t stop you.

He wouldn’t dare.

When you pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, he twitched again, a low groan rumbling in his chest. It had been a very long time since he’d thought about the ways he might die, but now he was certain of one thing: it would be your tongue that would end him. Definitely your tongue.

That very tongue was now dragging along his length, from tip to base and back again, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch. He was growing harder under your touch, and you relished the way his breath grew ragged with each lick, each kiss. When you lapped up the bead of pre-cum at his tip, you hummed softly, letting the taste linger on your tongue.

“I can’t wait to taste you for real,” you murmured, your voice thick with promise.

He opened his mouth to respond, but whatever words he’d planned to say vanished the moment you lowered your head and took him fully into your mouth. The guttural moan that escaped him sent heat pooling between your thighs, your body responding to the raw, sinful sound of his pleasure. You could have come undone just from his voice alone.

At first, your movements were slow, your head bobbing gently as you adjusted to the weight and feel of him. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his cock, teasing the sensitive ridge as you hollowed your cheeks. His hands tightened in your hair, guiding you without forcing, but when you spoke again, your words set something alight in him.

“I want you to show me, Sergeant,” you said, your voice sultry and daring. “Use me however you want.”

His eyes widened, the dark blue of his irises nearly swallowed by black. The sultry tone of your command, paired with the sheer want in your gaze, made something snap in him. He didn’t need to be told twice.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his voice rough as his hands guided your movements, his fingers tightening their hold in your hair. You moaned around him at the praise, and the vibration sent a shudder through his entire body.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his words spilling out between breaths. His head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving. “Such a good girl for me.”

You whined softly at his praise, the sound muffled but unmistakable. His lips curved into a grin, even as his body betrayed how tightly he was holding onto his control. “Look at that,” he said, his tone both teasing and affectionate. “Someone’s kinky.”

Your hum of affirmation sent another jolt of sensation through him, pulling a ragged moan from his throat. His hips bucked slightly, but he restrained himself, letting you keep the pace. For now.

But as your movements quickened, your enthusiasm matched only by the need burning in your eyes, he realized he wasn’t going to last much longer.

&&&&&&&

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last much longer,” he murmured, voice husky and strained. His head fell back against the pillow, lips parting to say more, but the words died on his tongue when your pace quickened, your determination unwavering. The heat of your mouth, the soft press of your lips, and the way your hand cupped and squeezed him—it was all too much.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat. His fingers tightened in your hair, holding you as though letting go would shatter him entirely. His hips lifted instinctively, his body surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure as he spilled into your mouth. "Oh, god, right there, baby," he groaned, the sound rough and unfiltered, pure bliss etched into every syllable.

When the waves of release finally ebbed, his grip lingered in your hair, unaware until your gentle touch coaxed his hand free. "Sorry," he whispered, voice hoarse and apologetic as his fingers brushed over your scalp soothingly.

You leaned up to kiss him, your lips warm and soft against his. But his response surprised you—hungry, fervent, as if tasting you wasn’t enough, as if he needed you closer, deeper. He pulled you into his arms, his hold reverent yet possessive, and the kiss left you breathless.

“You are the most amazing woman ever,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion.

You couldn’t help but laugh, settling yourself over his stomach, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “You’d tell that to any woman who’d suck you off,” you teased, your smile playful.

His hand cupped your cheek gently, halting your laughter. The tenderness in his eyes was staggering, like he could see through every wall you’d ever built.

“No,” he said, voice low and steady, each word sinking deep into your soul. “I care for you more than I thought I had it in me to care about someone. You’ve become so important to me, so fast, it scares the hell out of me sometimes. Because I can’t imagine my world without you.” His thumb stroked your cheek, his touch grounding. “So, no, doll,” he added, the nickname a soft caress on his lips. “I wouldn’t say that to anyone else. There’s no one but you.”

His kiss was sweet this time, unhurried, filled with a quiet kind of passion that made your heart ache in the best way. But as your hips shifted against him, you felt him stir beneath you, his body reacting with a swiftness that sent heat pooling in your belly.

A moan escaped you when you felt his growing arousal press against your core, his readiness unmistakable. His hands moved to your hips, grounding you as his fingers curled into the waistband of your underwear. You lifted just enough for him to slip the delicate fabric down, tossing it aside without a second thought.

“Today’s about you, Bucky,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his in a feather-light kiss. “I want to show you how amazing you are, how you make me feel, and how much I…” You faltered for a moment, your vulnerability catching up to you. Swallowing, you smiled softly. “How much I care for you.”

Before he could respond, you guided him to your entrance, the heat of him against you making your breath hitch. Slowly, you sank down onto him, a shared moan escaping as he stretched and filled you completely.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips firmly, though not harshly. His gaze was locked on you, watching the way you moved, the way your body welcomed him. “So perfect. Such a good girl.”

The praise sent a shiver through you, your walls fluttering around him in response. “Bucky,” you gasped, your hands bracing against his chest. “You’re so big… feels so good!”

He grinned, a wicked edge to his smile, and thrust up into you with a controlled strength that stole the air from your lungs. “I’m not stopping, doll,” he rasped, his voice laced with promise.

Before you could fully comprehend, he shifted you effortlessly, rolling you onto your back. Now he towered over you, his body a protective shield, his movements precise and powerful. His lips brushed your ear as his hand trailed down your stomach, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“There she is,” he murmured with a chuckle, his fingers teasing your clit just enough to make your toes curl.

The combination of his cock hitting the perfect spot inside you and the delicious friction of his fingers had you seeing stars. Your cries filled the room, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his movements unrelenting, yet careful in a way that spoke of his care for you. “So perfect for me. God, I could do this forever.”

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the intensity of it all—the connection, the pleasure, the raw intimacy. It wasn’t just sex; it was something deeper, something that felt like home.

As his pace quickened, you felt the tension building within you, every nerve ending alight. “Bucky,” you cried out, clutching at his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, doll,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that felt like a vow. His voice was low, rough with emotion, as he whispered, “I need you to cum for me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, a soft, breathy "Bucky—" on your lips, but then his fingers found your clit again, moving in that maddeningly skilled way that turned your thoughts into static. The tension inside you unraveled with explosive force, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body trembled, your head falling back, and you felt like you were floating, like he’d untethered you from reality itself.

“God,” you managed to breathe, your eyes fluttering open as you tried to thank him. But before you could form the words, his hips surged forward, and he was moving inside you again, drawing a startled cry from your lips.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with your own. “So perfect for me.” His mouth descended on yours, capturing your gasp in a kiss so deep it felt like he was stealing the air from your lungs.

“Such a good girl,” he rasped, the praise falling from his lips like a benediction. The way your body responded to his words made him chuckle, a low, wicked sound that sent a thrill down your spine. “You like that, huh? You like being my good girl.”

Before you could reply, his pace quickened, his fingers expertly teasing your clit once more. His mouth traveled down, capturing your nipple between his lips, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to draw soft, helpless moans from you. The warmth of his mouth, the steady thrust of his hips, and the relentless circling of his fingers sent another wave of pleasure building within you.

“I’m close, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “But I need you to cum for me again. One more time, doll. Just one more.”

No man had ever made you feel the way Bucky did. No one had ever cared to learn your body like this, to make you feel so utterly cherished, so thoroughly undone. You shook your head weakly, overwhelmed. “I can’t, Bucky,” you gasped. “I’m still—”

“Yes, you can, babygirl,” he growled, cutting you off. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you as he drove into you with a force that left you breathless. “I know you can. You’re my good girl, and you’re gonna cum for me.”

The commanding edge to his voice sent a thrill racing through you, and the coil of pleasure tightened in your belly once more. He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Come for me. Now,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly demand that sent you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out his name, your body shuddering beneath him as your orgasm tore through you. Your nails dragged down his back, leaving faint, reddened trails, but if he felt the sting, he didn’t care. The moment your walls clenched around him, he let go, his movements turning erratic as he spilled into you with a deep, guttural groan.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were your labored breaths, the quiet hum of the world beyond forgotten in the aftermath of your shared release. Bucky’s body was warm against yours, his weight a comforting presence, though he somehow managed to hold himself up just enough not to crush you.

After a moment, he rolled to the side, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He turned to you, his eyes wide, his expression suddenly serious.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbow. His reaction made your stomach twist, but before you could say more, he sat up abruptly, his gaze darting around the room nervously.

“I…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I came inside you.” His voice was laced with guilt, and he looked at you as though he’d committed some unforgivable sin. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

Realizing what he meant, you reached for him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. “Bucky, it’s okay,” you said, your voice soft and reassuring. You tilted your head toward the small scar on your hip, showing him the faint outline of your IUD. “I’m covered. You don’t need to worry.”

His shoulders sagged with relief, but his brow furrowed again. “Still, I should have asked. I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off with a kiss, tender and full of affection. “You’re the sweetest man ever,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his cheek. Your smile was the one you always gave him when you wanted to chase away his doubts. “But you don’t need to worry. I wanted you to.”

His eyes softened, the tension in his jaw easing as he let out a shaky breath. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “In that case,” he said, a hint of his usual playfulness returning, “you were amazing, doll. Absolutely amazing.”

“So were you,” you replied with a grin.

He kissed you again, slow and lingering, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “For going on that date with me.”

Your heart melted at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in his world. Was it those old-fashioned 1940s charms, or was it just Bucky? Either way, it made your chest ache with something too big to name.

“The best date of my life,” you told him, meaning every word.

He smiled at that, his hand finding yours. “C’mon, doll,” he said, his tone soft but warm. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

And as he led you to the bathroom, his touch gentle and his eyes full of adoration, you couldn’t help but think that this—this connection, this feeling—was worth everything.

---

After the night you spent together, something shifted between you and Bucky.

It wasn’t dramatic or earth-shattering, but it was there—this quiet, unspoken understanding. It hung in the air between you like the faint scent of rain, subtle but impossible to ignore. You were together now, bound by something deeper, something that needed no words to define. Every teasing glance, every soft touch, every shared smile—they carried a gravity that hadn’t been there before, a kind of sacred weight that made your chest ache with warmth.

The house, too, seemed to reflect this change. In just three weeks, you and Bucky had breathed life into what had once been little more than a forgotten relic. Dusty floorboards now gleamed, rooms once choked with cobwebs now felt open and full of promise. Of course, most of that transformation was thanks to Bucky—his strong hands, his quiet determination, his uncanny ability to make even the most daunting task seem simple. But you liked to think you’d helped in your own way, even if it was just by being there—keeping him company, making sure he didn’t forget to eat, or distracting him with your clumsy attempts at “helping.”

One evening, as you stood in the doorway of the now-finished kitchen, you couldn’t help but marvel at what the two of you had accomplished. The counters sparkled in the golden light of sunset, the new appliances gleamed, and the faint, clean scent of fresh paint lingered in the air.

“This place looks incredible,” you said, your voice soft with awe.

“Not bad for three weeks,” Bucky replied, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His voice carried a note of pride, though his expression was as relaxed and easy as always.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, smiling at him. But then you couldn’t resist adding, “Though I think I deserve at least half the credit.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that irresistible smirk that always made your knees feel just a little weaker. “Half? Doll, you almost took out the drywall with a hammer on day two.”

“Details,” you said with a wave of your hand. “I was the emotional support. That counts for something.”

His laugh was low and rich, the sound wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He crossed the room, his presence filling the space as he stopped in front of you. “Yeah, it does,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter, and you barely had time to catch your breath before he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

---

As amazing as things felt between you, there was still a secretive edge to it all.

The decision to keep your relationship quiet had been mutual, though it wasn’t without its complications. It wasn’t shame or uncertainty that kept you silent—it was the weight of Bucky’s world. His life had always been lived under a microscope, every move dissected and analyzed by those who cared for him. His friends meant well, but they had a way of meddling, of poking and teasing and offering unsolicited advice. And so, for now, you both chose to hold this fragile, perfect thing close, safe from prying eyes.

One evening, as you sat together on the porch, the horizon blazed with the deep oranges and purples of a dying sun. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of pine, and the world felt perfectly still. You were leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder, when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice low and tinged with something heavy.

You tilted your head to look up at him, surprised. “For what?”

“For not telling anyone,” he said, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as if he were bracing himself. “For asking you to keep this between us.”

“Bucky…” you began, your heart twisting at the guilt in his voice.

He shook his head, his blue eyes finally meeting yours, filled with a vulnerability that stole your breath. “You deserve better,” he said, the words raw and quiet. “You deserve someone who doesn’t have to hide how they feel about you.”

Your fingers found his, threading together as you held his gaze. “I’m not hiding,” you said softly. “I’m just waiting. And I’m okay with waiting—for you.”

His breath caught, and for a long moment, he just looked at you. The air between you felt charged, every unsaid word passing through that space, heavy with meaning.

“Are you sure?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your grip on his hand tightening just slightly. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll tell them. Until then, I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in his frame melted away, his shoulders sagging with relief. He pulled you close, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss that felt like a promise.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

“Always,” you replied, letting your eyes slip closed as you leaned into him. Together, you sat in silence, watching as the last rays of sunlight faded into twilight, the stars beginning to blink awake one by one.

In that quiet, sacred moment, you knew without a doubt that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And that, more than anything, was enough.

---

Keeping your relationship with Bucky a secret had seemed like the right decision.

It wasn’t about hiding. It was about holding onto something precious, something new and fragile, just a little while longer. Bucky needed time to adjust—to let himself believe that happiness wasn’t fleeting, that this bond between you was real and wouldn’t be taken away. You understood that, so waiting felt like a small price to pay.

But there was one thing neither of you had accounted for: Sam Wilson.

Sam had an uncanny ability to read people. He wasn’t nosy, but once he noticed that Bucky had returned from your date with a rare, unguarded smile, the wheels in his head started turning. It was only a matter of time before he connected the dots—and naturally, he spilled the news to Steve Rogers. And the thing about Steve was that while he was the embodiment of loyalty and good intentions, he wasn’t exactly subtle.

---

The celebration started off perfectly.

The small party you and Bucky hosted to mark the near-completion of the house had everything: good food, warm laughter, and a sense of accomplishment that filled the air like the smell of fresh paint. The living room buzzed with chatter as your friends admired the transformation.

“It’s amazing,” Natasha said, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. “Didn’t think Barnes had it in him to pick out curtains.”

“Those were my contributions,” you replied with a grin, earning a small chuckle from her.

In the kitchen, you and Bucky worked together to set up the drinks. He was pouring whiskey into glasses with practiced ease while you arranged a platter of snacks, sneaking a glance at him every so often. The way the soft, golden light from the kitchen window played on his features made your chest tighten. This felt right—building something with him, being part of his life.

And then Sam walked in.

“Well, well, well,” he announced loudly, a grin splitting his face as he leaned against the doorframe. “Look at the happy couple!”

The room fell into a stunned silence, like a record scratching to a halt. For a beat, no one moved. Then, as if a dam had burst, the chatter shifted into excited whispers and laughter.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back with enough force to make him stagger slightly. “Knew you had it in you, pal,” he said, grinning like a proud older brother.

Tony, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, raised his glass in a mock toast. “About damn time, Barnes. I thought you were going to let this one slip through your fingers.”

Natasha smirked from her spot in the corner, her knowing gaze flicking between you and Bucky like she’d figured it out long ago.

Bucky’s reaction was immediate.

You felt it before you saw it—the way his body went rigid beside you. His jaw tightened, and his hand, which had been resting on the counter, curled into a fist. His expression hardened, a storm brewing behind his blue eyes as he turned to face Steve and Sam.

“You told them?” His voice was low, laced with simmering anger.

Steve raised his hands in defense, his wide-eyed expression betraying his guilt. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” Bucky snapped, cutting him off. His words were sharp enough to draw blood. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Sam, ever the unapologetic instigator, shrugged with an infuriating grin. “Come on, man. It’s not like it was a big secret. We all saw it coming. We’re happy for you.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his voice turning cold and cutting. “It wasn’t your story to tell. It’s my life. My choice.”

The hum of conversation that had begun to pick back up quickly died again, leaving an uncomfortable, heavy silence in its wake. All eyes turned toward Bucky, the tension in the room palpable.

“Bucky,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his arm, hoping to anchor him.

He glanced at you, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened. But the hurt and frustration in his eyes didn’t fade. “I need some air,” he muttered, his voice tight and clipped.

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, the sound of the back door closing behind him echoing like a final note in an unfinished song.

You stood frozen for a moment, torn between following him and facing the room.

Your gaze landed on Sam and Steve, and a sharp wave of frustration surged through you. They looked guilty enough—Steve with his sheepish frown, Sam with his slightly deflated bravado—but that didn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you demanded, your voice low but firm enough to cut through the awkward silence.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his hands resting on his hips. “We didn’t mean to upset him,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We’re just… happy for him. For both of you.”

“That’s not the point,” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t about you. Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to let me in? To trust that this could be something real?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Look, we get it. He’s been through hell. But we’re his friends. We’re on his side.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to decide when he’s ready to share this with the world,” you shot back, your tone sharp. “You might think you were doing him a favor, but all you did was take away his choice.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, guilt written all over his face. “We were out of line,” he admitted quietly. “We didn’t think about how much this would mean to him.”

“No, you didn’t,” you agreed, your voice softening just slightly. “He’s angry, and he has every right to be.”

Sam sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “Alright, fine. We messed up. I’ll talk to him.”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’ll handle it. Just… give him some space.”

---

You found Bucky on the back porch.

He was leaning against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in soft shades of lavender and gold. His shoulders were tense, his hands gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles were white.

You stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as you closed the door behind you. “Hey,” you said softly, not wanting to startle him.

He glanced at you, the tension in his face easing slightly. “You don’t have to be out here,” he muttered. “Go back inside.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said gently, stepping closer. “Bucky, I’m sorry. They shouldn’t have—”

“It’s not your fault,” he interrupted, his voice rough. He turned to face you fully, his blue eyes filled with frustration and hurt. “I just… I wanted this to be ours for a little while longer.”

“It still is,” you said, reaching out to take his hand. “What we have doesn’t change just because they know.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his grip tightening slightly. “It feels like it does,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like it’s not just ours anymore.”

You stepped closer, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Then let’s make them understand. This is your life, Bucky. No one else gets to decide how you live it.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he pulled you into his arms. “I’m lucky to have you,” he murmured into your hair.

“You always will,” you replied, your voice steady and sure.

And in that moment, as the sky darkened and the first stars appeared, you knew you’d face whatever came next—together.

---

Title: Just James

James Buchanan Barnes is not an easy man to define.

For decades, the world has known him by his titles: The Winter Soldier. Hydra’s Ghost. The Soldier with a Shattered Mind. For a long time, those labels seemed to stick, as if they were the only things he’d ever been or could be.

But spend a little time with him, and you’ll find that James Barnes is so much more than his past.

When you meet him, the first thing you notice is his presence. It’s not the commanding kind—it’s quieter, steadier, like the deep roots of an old oak tree. He doesn’t need to say much to make an impression. It’s in the way he moves, the way he listens, the way he watches everything and everyone with a quiet intensity that speaks of someone who has seen too much but still manages to care.

Caring is, in fact, at the heart of who James Barnes is.

He is the kind of friend who will notice when you’re having a bad day and quietly make it better without ever drawing attention to himself. Maybe it’s a warm cup of coffee placed in front of you without a word, or a small fix to something broken that you didn’t even know he’d noticed. He doesn’t make grand gestures; he makes small, thoughtful ones that linger long after they’re done.

James Barnes is also a man who, despite everything, has a surprisingly sharp sense of humor. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it—a dry comment here, a teasing smirk there. He doesn’t laugh often, but when he does, it’s the kind of laugh that makes the room feel warmer.

And then there’s the charm.

He’ll deny it if you ask, but there’s no mistaking the trace of 1940s Brooklyn ladies’ man still lingering in his DNA. It’s in the way he leans against a doorframe, arms crossed, with that faint, lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s in the way he says “doll” like it’s second nature, with a teasing edge that somehow feels both old-fashioned and timeless.

But beneath the charm, beneath the humor, lies a vulnerability that few people get to see. It’s in the way he sometimes hesitates before opening up, the way he gets quiet when the conversation drifts too close to old wounds. James Barnes is a man carrying more weight than most of us could imagine, but what makes him extraordinary is the way he still manages to move forward.

He doesn’t see himself as a hero, but in many ways, that’s exactly what he is.

James Barnes is the friend who will drop everything to help you. He’s the man who will put others’ needs above his own, even when he’s struggling. He’s the kind of person who makes you believe in second chances, not just for him, but for yourself, too.

He’s funny, and thoughtful, and maddeningly stubborn. He’ll tease you relentlessly, but if anyone else dares to so much as look at you wrong, they’ll regret it. He’ll hold your hand when you’re scared, fix things you didn’t know were broken, and somehow make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who truly matters.

James Barnes is not defined by his past. He is not the Winter Soldier. He is not a title or a label or a ghost of what once was.

He is a man. A man who deserves love, happiness, and everything good this world has to offer.

And for those lucky enough to know him, he’s so much more than that.

He’s James.

And that’s enough.

---

Title: A chance to live

James Barnes doesn’t ask for forgiveness.

It’s not because he doesn’t want it or wouldn’t welcome it—it’s because he doesn’t believe he deserves it. For so long, the weight of his past has felt like a life sentence, something permanent and unchangeable. Every scar on his body, every memory forced into his mind, every name he can’t forget—they’ve all told him the same thing: that he is broken, irredeemable, and unworthy of anything good.

But James Barnes doesn’t ask for forgiveness.

What he asks for is something simpler, something quieter, something more human: a chance to live.

When you spend time with Bucky, you see the effort it takes for him to move through the world. The way he still flinches when someone approaches him from behind. The way his hands tremble just slightly when he’s surrounded by too many people. The way he avoids mirrors, as if afraid of who—or what—he might see staring back at him.

But you also see the will.

The will to keep going, even on the days when the past feels too heavy to bear. The will to change, to be better, to be someone he can look in the eye and not hate. The will to laugh, to connect, to open up—even when it scares him.

James Barnes doesn’t want to be a hero. He doesn’t want to be remembered for his deeds or honored for his sacrifices. He doesn’t want a statue or a medal or a parade.

He just wants what so many of us take for granted: a life of his own.

He wants to wake up in the morning and not dread the day ahead. He wants to walk down the street without feeling like a ghost. He wants to sit on the porch of his house—the house he’s worked so hard to rebuild—and feel the warmth of the sun on his face without worrying about what might be lurking in the shadows.

He wants to love and be loved in return.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t expect the world to forgive him. He doesn’t expect to erase the past or undo the harm that was done. But he hopes—quietly, desperately—that the world might let him try. That it might give him the space to rebuild himself, to find something worth holding onto, to create a future that isn’t defined by the horrors of his past.

And maybe, just maybe, if the world can give him that chance, he can begin to forgive himself.

Because beneath the layers of guilt and grief, beneath the scars and the shadows, is a man who wants nothing more than to live.

And James Barnes, for all that he’s been through, for all that he’s endured, deserves that chance.

He deserves to live.

---

The evening was cloaked in a quiet stillness, the kind that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

The soft golden glow of a single lamp illuminated the room as you handed Bucky the articles. Your hands trembled slightly, though you tried to mask it, and your heart raced with a nervous anticipation that made your chest ache. He took the papers from you with a small, curious smile, his calloused fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. Then, he sat down, the weight of the moment settling heavily in the air.

The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the faint rustling of the paper as he turned the pages. Each sound was magnified, echoing in your ears like the ticking of a clock. You watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes moved across the words, his expression flickering between concentration and something softer—something almost fragile.

These articles weren’t just words on a page. They were pieces of your heart laid bare, fragments of everything you saw in him: his strength, his resilience, his capacity for love, even after all the pain he had endured. They were a mirror, reflecting the man he had become, not the man he feared he was.

When he finally finished, he placed the papers down on the table with deliberate care. He didn’t look up immediately, and your stomach twisted with doubt. Had you said too much? Was it too personal? Too raw?

But then he looked at you, and the breath caught in your throat. His blue-gray eyes glistened with unshed tears, the kind he rarely let anyone see. The vulnerability in his gaze made your chest tighten, and you suddenly understood that this wasn’t just about the articles. This was about him confronting a version of himself he wasn’t sure he deserved to be.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The silence felt like a taut string, ready to snap, and your heart pounded with every passing second.

Then, finally, he broke it.

“This… this is incredible,” he said, his voice low and steady, though it trembled slightly at the edges.

Your cheeks flushed, and you gave him a small, shy smile. “I’m glad you think so. I just… I wanted people to see you the way I see you.”

He stared at you as if he couldn’t quite believe the words you’d spoken. His expression was raw and unguarded, the kind of openness he rarely allowed himself.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “How you make me feel like this—like I’m more than what I’ve done. Like I’m worth something.”

“Because you are,” you said simply, your voice soft but firm. You reached out, taking his hand in yours.

The warmth of his touch, the way his fingers instinctively tightened around yours, felt like an unspoken promise. He held your gaze, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet glow of the room.

Then, he spoke again, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, fragile and beautiful. He said them as if he was testing their weight, as if he wasn’t entirely sure they would hold. But the way his hand tightened around yours, the way his eyes searched yours, told you he meant them.

“I love you,” he said again, more certain this time, his voice steady. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to say that again. But I do. I love you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you leaned forward. You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing lightly over the faint stubble on his jaw. “I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He pulled you into his arms then, his hold firm but gentle, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. His lips found yours, and the kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the things he couldn’t put into words. It wasn’t just an expression of love—it was an affirmation, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you had built together.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands stayed on your waist, anchoring you to him, as if he needed the physical connection to keep himself grounded.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For giving me this,” he said simply. “For giving me a chance.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You gave yourself that chance, Bucky. I just helped you see it.”

He held your gaze for a long moment, his expression shifting to something resolute, something stronger.

“I wasn’t sure before,” he said quietly. “But… I think I’m ready. If you want to publish this—if you think the world should see it—then let’s do it. Let’s tell them.”

Your heart swelled with pride and love, and you leaned forward to kiss him again, your hands still cradling his face. The kiss was softer this time, but no less meaningful.

When you pulled back, you searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but all you saw was determination. “Are you sure?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

He nodded, his expression steady and sure. “Yeah. I’m sure. I want them to know the truth—not just about what I was, but about who I am now. About the people who’ve helped me get here.”

A lump formed in your throat as you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over his skin. “Okay,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “We’ll do this together.”

He smiled then, a small but genuine smile that lit up his face in a way that made your heart ache. “Together,” he echoed, his voice carrying the weight of a promise.

And as you sat there, holding each other in the quiet glow of the room, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever storms you had to weather, you knew you’d face them side by side. Together, you were unstoppable.

---

Over the next week, your series of articles began to roll out, one by one, like chapters in a story that needed to be told.

Each piece was a love letter to James Buchanan Barnes—not just the man you loved, but the many versions of him that had existed before. Each article revealed a different facet of his life, weaving together a tapestry of pain, perseverance, and quiet triumph.

The first article painted a picture of a boy from Brooklyn, a boy who loved fiercely and laughed loudly. You wrote about the way Bucky had adored his mother’s homemade meals, the nights spent teasing his sisters, and the way his father’s old stories had sparked his sense of adventure.

The next article delved into his role as a best friend. You described the steadfast loyalty he’d shown Steve Rogers, the skinny kid from Brooklyn who had a fire too big for his frame. Bucky had been his anchor, his protector, and his brother in every way that mattered.

Then came the soldier. You recounted his bravery in the field, the unwavering courage with which he faced danger, not for glory but for the men standing beside him. But you didn’t shy away from the darkness. You wrote about his fall, the horrors inflicted upon him, and the years he spent as a ghost—a weapon, stripped of identity and choice.

Yet, you balanced the shadows with light.

You wrote about the man you knew now: the way his lips curved in a rare, genuine smile when he found a stray cat or fixed a squeaky hinge; the way he cared for his friends with an understated tenderness, always putting others first even when it cost him. You wrote about his quiet resilience, his determination to rebuild his life, and his courage in confronting his demons.

And above all, you wrote about his humanity—the small, everyday moments that revealed his heart. How he’d pick up your favorite snacks without being asked. How he could spend hours tinkering with a broken toaster just because it mattered to someone. How he was learning, slowly but surely, to let himself be loved in return.

---

The response was immediate and overwhelming.

Emails, comments, and messages poured in from readers around the world.

People who had felt unseen, misunderstood, or broken wrote to say they saw themselves in his story. Veterans shared their own struggles with identity and purpose, thanking him for his honesty. Survivors of trauma found hope in his resilience. And countless others simply marveled at the raw courage it took to lay his soul bare for the world to see.

One letter, in particular, stood out. It was from a young woman in Kansas who wrote:

"I’ve never known how to tell my family about my struggles, about the things that haunt me. But reading about Bucky—about how he faces his past with so much strength—it’s inspired me to try. Thank you for showing me that it’s okay to ask for help, that it’s okay to keep trying even when it feels impossible."

You read her words aloud to Bucky one night as the two of you sat together in the quiet comfort of your living room. He listened in silence, his hand resting over yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

“Do you see now?” you asked softly, your voice thick with emotion. “Do you see what you mean to people?”

He didn’t reply right away. His gaze was fixed on the letter in your hands, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief.

---

For Bucky, the most profound response came from within.

Each evening, he would sit quietly and read your articles. At first, it was difficult. The words felt too raw, too vulnerable, like staring at an unflinching mirror. But as the week went on, something began to shift.

The boy who loved fiercely, the best friend who stood unwavering, the soldier who fought bravely, the man who was shattered and rebuilt piece by piece—they were all him. Not ghosts. Not shadows.

Him.

And for the first time in a long time, he began to believe it.

He no longer felt like a relic of the past, a man defined only by his mistakes and the damage done to him. He began to feel whole, as if the fragments of his life were finally coming together to form something stronger, something true.

One evening, as he finished the last article, he closed his laptop and turned to you. His blue-gray eyes were clear, steady, but there was a softness there too—a quiet peace you hadn’t seen before.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice filled with a sincerity that made your chest ache.

You smiled, leaning into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “For what?”

“For showing me the parts of myself I couldn’t see,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around you. “For believing in me when I couldn’t. For reminding me that I’m more than what I’ve done.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you held them back, your voice steady. “You’ve always been more, Bucky. You just needed to see it for yourself.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering there as if drawing strength from your presence. “I see it now,” he said quietly. “For the first time, I really see it.”

And in that moment, as the soft hum of the world outside faded into the background, you knew that he wasn’t just healing—he was becoming. Not the Winter Soldier. Not a hero or a villain. Just Bucky.

James Buchanan Barnes.

A man who was no longer defined by his past but by the love and resilience that would carry him into the future.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he deserved it.

34 notes · View notes

oddballwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Honey, I'm Home

Summary: Taking up the role of being your little househusband was something that Jake wasn't really expecting to enjoy so much, but man, does he really love it~

Warnings: Househusband Jake. Househusband kink.

Author’s Snip: All of you liked my idea of a househusband Jake smut. So I'm giving you what you want. I was originally going to post this after the four fics/one-shots that I had you guys vote on but i thought why not, I kind of wrote it before I had the results in. Also, before any of you can say the joke... three voices come from the gramophone /ref.

Notes: In this, Jake is his own person instead of being an alter of Marc but was also formerly Khonshu's avatar until Khonshu decided to excuse him from his duties. Listen, you aren't here for all that, you're here for the househusband Jake smut. Also, yes, the reader knew about Khonshu when Jake was Moon Knight.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 688

The role and life of a househusband wasn't one that Jake expected to play out and live. What with his work in being the hand of justice for Khonshu. Needing to track down, run around, fight, extract information by any means necessary, and even kill. He's honestly surprised he managed to gain a spouse in that part of his life. So the idea of even slightly being a homebody was something that never crossed Jake's mind once. With him always having a mission, he would hardly have the ability to do house work.

So when Khonshu came and said that he was satisfied with Jake's work and wanted to release him from it and then promptly did, without much talk about it on Jake's part, Jake didn't really know what to do now.

You two had a talk about what Jake could do now with all this new free time. Sure, Jake now had time for more hobbies but there was still so much time on his hands. That was when you jokingly suggested that he should be a househusband. It was a good laugh for a minute until you off-handedly mentioned that you earned enough to support both of you so he could actually take on the role.

That's when Jake decided to give being a homebody a try for a month. And in that month, Jake swears that something just tapped into his brain and he enjoyed this kind of role. Sure, it wasn't easy. He had to stay on top of the chores and errands that needed to be done and do the cooking dinner. But there was something about doing all that work and seeing you come home with a smile on your face as you see him and the house that just completely rewired his brain. By the end of the month, he had an order for a nice apron placed and damn near bought the ones with cute frills on it, ready to be your little househusband. It really did something to him.

It wouldn't be until a while after adopting this lifestyle that Jake figured out that being your lovely little househusband also did something to him. He doesn't really know where it comes from. But it was there alright.

Maybe it was the idea in society that the person who was the homebody was supposed to be submissive to the breadwinner. Or the way you look when you walk through the front door coming home from work and have a tired smile cross your face when you see him and then say "There you are.". He definitely felt it when you would walk over to him and give him a hug with a kiss on the lips to go with it. Or that time you came home and hugged him from behind. He bent down to the pans he used to cook in the dishwasher after just plating dinner. You had let go of his waist so he could bend but you stood there for a bit and Jake's mind slipped into the dirty for a moment before returning them back and finishing the rest of the dishes, and then eating dinner with you. By god, he thought about that for a long time after that.

It didn't take you that long to figure it out though. You had actually caught on as soon as he started trying to hide his erections whenever you'd innocently call him your sweet little husband or something along those lines. After that, it would be something that you'd bring into the bedroom whenever you were in charge.

"My sweet little husband. So good to me. Always making sure the house is all tidy and clean for me when I come home. He deserves a reward for being so good~" you'd coo into his ear while he shook and panted from whatever you were doing to him. Sometimes you'd say "Let me take care of you since you take such good care of me and the house." and it would turn him into a complete mess.

Becoming a househusband has truly done something to Jake.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley smut #sub!jake lockley #sub!jake

78 notes · View notes

nerdieforpedro · 6 months ago

Text

WIP Thursday

The smut is still ever present. And has leaked into many a fic. The word leak may have been used in some of them, or not. Nerdie is unsure and quite unwell. Like I’m physically fine but you, the mind is swirling.

Anyway… 👀 The docket for this week: One Tim, One Marcus, Two Dieters and a trickle of Din.

I was tagged by @syd-djarin 😎 Thanks for the reminder and all your fics look awesome! 😘

First up, Tim (he’s got plot to get through thank you!):

Doc and Rockford are seated outside of the diner. The cool air feels excellent on her skin. She feels like she’s burning up. Tim likely understood what his brother meant by her satisfaction or lack thereof and that’s before even mentioning him putting your lab coat on her, complimenting her or touching her stomach. Doc still has to process that. So much has happened. “You wanna talk about why you were out with my brother, the outfit, or me getting you in the car Esme? Which elephant do you want to tackle first?” Rockford would have phrased it differently, but he’s tired from the late night paperwork, being worried about her and now trying to think about how he’s going to react to whatever she has to say.

Second, Marcus Pike (because he's adorable):

“Hey beautiful! You ready for to go? I’m just going to put away some files and we’ll be ready to go.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat in giving a swift kiss to Imani’s forehead then heading over to his desk and fiddling with drawers. He’s shuffling papers while stealing glances at the woman seated in his office. “Between the shade of orange, your smiling face and those luscious legs tempting me from across the room, we might be late for our reservation.” The good agent Pike wiggled his eyebrows which had his lady friend holding her stomach in laughter.

Lastly, I wrote some Din (because we don't appreciate Din's early armor enough):

Still holding the knife, she lowered it and nodded, “Yes thanks to you. May I know your name to thank you? I can’t see you very well there, could you step forward?” Taking two steps toward him, she stopped three feet before the shadows from the building obscured him. Heavy boots and what sounded to be metal clinked with his steps. His armor was the answer, he wouldn’t need to really tell her. Silver that reflected the moonlight with a t-visor helmet and a modulated voice. None of his skin was exposed, covered in a mix of brown metal and durable cloth and a black cape at his back. Hints of silver dotted his armor from different pieces and from his weapons. Those are a major tenant of their culture - their beliefs.

The graphic above is for the pending Din fic. 😀

And I have one for a pending Dieter fic ( @angelofsmalldeath-codeine this is 30% your fault - thank you. 😊)

Technically, she’d met one of her best friends at a table read for ‘Graceland’ but it didn’t register who he was until there was an entire season making him more central to the plot on the second show. Aisha appreciated that he was serious about getting the character right, adding in changes to better express what the writer’s room was trying to convey. He didn’t do it so much for the slick escapist show on the USA show but she really saw him shine on the screen as Agent Marcus Pike in ‘The Mentalist.’ One thing that the writer’s room voted to write out for his character was all the eating. “No agent is gonna be eating like that,” they always said. Once Dieter Bravo ate the takeout in the scene while dolling out his lines, the director loved it so they quickly pivoted on that creative choice.

And I can’t leave Dieter and Maya out you know! I haven’t been chipping away at them slowly, there’s a lot to figure out. I’m don’t have much on them unfortunately. 😭

No pressure tags: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @connectioneverywhere @boliv-jenta @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@pedroshotwifey @perotovar @julesonrecord @chaithetics @avastrasposts

@slippinninque @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @inept-the-magnificent @tinytinymenace

@jessthebaker @sin-djarin @morallyinept @604to647 @djarins-cyare

@djarinmuse @pedroshotwifey

#wip thursday #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #frankie morales #the mandalorian #Tim Rockford #marcus pike

27 notes · View notes

lantanasmuttyfanfics · 9 months ago

Note

The Raven and Dexter one was sooo cute! Would you mind doing a smutty one between them?

Soo soo sorry for the wait!! But please understand I’m only one girl 😭

But anyway I hope you enjoy your smut and I hope you enjoy what I wrote

—————————

Raven felt weird.

She didn’t why but every time she’d look at Dexter she just that this urge to go kiss the life out of him. It was strange because even tho they’d been dating for a few months now she’d never had this urge before.

It was so intens that she had opted to avoiding Dexter as much as possible while trying, and failing, to not make it obvious. Although how she was foolish enough to think she could get anything past her oh so observant boyfriend she didn’t know.

In the first week that she’d been avoiding him he noticed. It was during one of Briars parties that he’d confronted her about it and her with great deal and effort to not pounce on him just made up some excuse and left quickly.

To figure out what was going on Raven set out to find someone she could ask, she thought about asking Apple first but that’d be an awkward conversation for the very traditional in that sort of way princess. So Raven went to the second person she would think of, Ceries.

“So what up Raven.” Ceries smiled at her as she leaned against a tree, Raven sighed and plopped down next to her. “I just feel I don’t know weird around Dexter?” The other girl raised her brows at her as she gazed around the enchanted forest.

“How so? You two were voted ‘cutest most unexpected’ couple on Blondies mirrorcast.” Raven groaned as she threw her head back in annoyance, “I know. And that not the problem it’s just that… I umm feel very strong about uh you know.”

Ceries gave her a questioning look as she plucked grass from the ground, “No raven. I really don’t.” Ravens cheeks heated up as the next thoughts crossed her mind and how she absolutely could not say those things to her friend.

She thought about a different way to say it but every single time she tried to come up with a new way it just made the original look like a saint compared to the others ones. “I just really want to have sex with Dexter.” Raven gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth as the words came out.

Ceries also froze as she looked at her in half disgust and half disbelief, “well… that was um straightforward.” Raven wished a hole would swallow her up right then and there so the embarrassment didn’t have time sink in further.

The two girls sat in silence for a while, just admiring the beauty of the enchanted forest. “Have you told him?” Raven gave the girl a perplexed look, “you want me to tell him?” Cerise nodded and continued to pick grass of the ground.

“I mean that’s probably also why you feel ‘weird’ around him.” Raven rolled her eyes softly and kicked a rock by her feet before she turned to look at her friend. “So your saying that I feel weird because of a lot of built up sexual tension.”

Ceries nodded absentmindedly “yeah pretty much. And besides you two need to get laid.” Before Raven could question her, Ceries perked up and started to look around quickly. “Would you look at that he’s here now. What a perfect time to resolve all those issues of yours.”

Raven was left dumbfounded as Ceries ran of to Grimm knows where and the footsteps on Dexter approached nearer and nearer. He said nothing as he sat beside her and put his arm over her shoulders, the silence that followed was mostly comfortable dispite the things running through her mind.

“So… what are you doing here?” He was the first to break the ice as he turned to look at her, “oh umm nothing just hanging out with Ceries.” At the mention of little reds daughter, Dexter started to look around before turning to Raven again with a raised brow.

“She was here. A few moments ag-.” She was promptly cut of as Dexter moved in and smashed their lips together. Raven froze for a second before melting into the kiss that urge to just have Dexter growing in her with every bite, lick that he was providing to her lips and jaw.

As his lips traveled down her jaw to her throat Raven bit her lips to contain her moan. Wrapping her arms around his neck, raven let her fingers run through pushing him forward so he was now attached to her neck.

As his hands started to travel further down her dress, Raven felt heat course through her body and a tingling sensation form down quickly. Dexters hands ended up finding the zipper of her dress and he without a second thought yanked the zipper down, causing her dress to slide down her arms.

Raven gasped as she felt the air hit her bare back and arms as Dexter started to move the down so he was now ontop of her. Being so caught up in their own lust Raven had nearly forgotten that they were in the enchanted forest where any student could find them.

“Dex… what if someone sees us?” He sighed against her neck and ran his hand up her thigh, “they won’t.” She wanted to question him but all thoughts left her head as soon as his fingers skimmed the line of her panties.

Unconsciously, she bucked her hips and let out a breathy moan. Dexter smiled against the top of her chest where he continued to toy with her panties, Raven just wished she could force him to stop teasing her but she felt completely helpless pinned down under him as he looked at her with dark eyes.

He didn’t break eye contact as he now pushed her panties aside and ran his finger along her slit. She moaned so loudly she feared someone would hear, but again all thought evaporated as Dexter sucked along her breasts and slowly slid one thick finger inside.

“Dex…” he hummed as he bit down gently at the swell of her breast pushing her dress down to her hips as he pumped one finger in and out. The action had her moaning and panting under him in seconds as he also started to take his jacket of.

Ravens walls spasmed around his finger as she felt her climax nearing much sooner than she expected, but inside she was begging that he wouldn’t stop. That he’d tip her over the edge and make her cum so hard her vision blurred.

The actual feeling couldn’t compare to her imagination, instead of blurred vision her sight disappeared completely for a second as a silent scream left her mouth. Dexter also groaned feeling his pants become significantly smaller.

Raven panted and buried her head in his neck as she let out small moans as her high flushed through her body slowly. Dexter continued to pump until she was wiggling in his grip with need for something bigger and thicker.

He slowly sat on his knees, still ontop of her as he looked her dead in the eyes and started to undo his belt. Raven stared back with equal intensity, reaching up as she grabbed his crown and put it on her head. “How does it look?”

He chuckled and threw his belt to the side, “much better on you than me. But I think it’d look better with nothing else on.” Raven ran her tongue along her teeth, holding in a gasp as Dexter practically ripped her dress of her.

She would lecture him but that would have to wait for later. Raven reached forward her nails grazing his lower stomach as she started to pull his pants down, but both being filled with need and lust he helped her yank his pants to his knees before they were embraced in a kiss of passion.

Ravens back hit the ground with a small thud as they fought for dominance over the kiss. She was nearly going to win before the tip of Dexters dick grazed her center, she lost focus and for that split second he took control.

Seeing as he was not doing what she wanted, Raven hooked her legs around his hips and pulled him forward causing his dick to grind against her. Dexter moaned in her mouth and grabbed a fistful of her hair with one hand and her hips with the other as he positioned himself.

Without warning he pushed in slowly, the sound of Ravens screams like a melody to his ears as he held her still while pushing the rest of the way in. When he bottomed out he held still for as along as she needed before she gave him the ok to move.

Once she did, the both got lost in the heat and pleasure of their connection, each lost in the feeling of the other. Dexter kept groaning softly against her nape the feeling of her warm walls around him making him feel like this is what true bliss felt like.

Raven also felt like she was going to lose herself in this pleasure, her mind swirling with ecstasy and euphoria as she ran her nails down his back crying out loud as he jerked forward as her nils reached a particular spot.

She did it again and again loving the feeling of his jerks forward and that wild look in his eyes. Dexter on the other hand felt his climax approaching more quickly than he wanted with every jerk forward, but he couldn’t bring it in him to tell her to stop.

He was loving this far to much to stop. Much to his luck, Raven also felt that wave of heat and ecstasy course through her again as she pulled him in ever more tightly. Her walls pulsating with the need to release what was tipping over of the edge.

With a final scratch down his back, Dexter and Raven tipped into their euphoria. Dexter felt like he was going to pass out from the sheer amount of pleasure that was running through him. It was as if he drowning in it, but he never wanted to come out.

Both panting and sweaty, Dexter helped Raven stand up and look for her torn dress as she waved her hand and everything turned back to how it was before. Much to their luck the bell rang just then and they both made their way to the castleteria.

Dexter had his arm wrapped around her waist as they entered and parted ways as he went to get them both food. Raven smiled and waved at him as she sat next to Apple hoping she wasn’t too flushed. But she froze at the girls next words.

“Umm Raven? Why are you wearing Dexters crown?”

———————————

Hope you enjoyed!! As always feel free to share your commissions

Anyway I’m not going to lie as a fanfic writer there’s always characters that I have trouble writing in this way like idk with some I’m like yeah smut and other I’m like how about a picnic??

Like idk how to explain it. But don’t worry that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to not writing about Dexter x Raven

#reading #romance #wattpad #apple white #daring charming #dexter charming #ever after high #raven queen #eah fanfic #eah headcanons #raven x dexter #raven #eah raven #the evil queen #little red riding hood

24 notes · View notes

c-m-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Hickeys

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are having a secret relationship. But, a certain mark on both of your bodies, exposed you.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, mention of smut

-Word count: 884

-Note: (Repost from Wattpad, feel free to send me requests!) Thank you so much, for all the commenting and votes on my stories. I really appreciate it! Love y'all! <3

Masterlist

_________________________

Y/N POV:

I slowly opened my eyes, the sun shining on my body. I peacefully turned around, facing my beautiful boyfriend. To my surprise, he already was staring at me.

'You're so beautiful.' he admitted, with his morning voice. Gosh, I love his morning voice.

'Also a good morning.' I chuckled, as I felt my cheeks getting red, blushing from the compliment.

'Spencer, you're gorgeous.' I spoke, giving a good look at him.

A smile grew on his face, as he took me in his arms. Hugging me, and kissing my forehead, sweetly.

'Those hickeys look definitely great on you.' he mentioned, both remembering the events of last night.

'Well, I can say the same thing about you, love.' I said, giving a kiss on his neck, where the hickey was placed.

'But, I think, we have a problem for tomorrow. The team will notice.'

We didn't told the team yet, about us. We are planning to, but just not yet. We love, keeping this little secret, just a little longer between us. Not only cause we like the privacy, also it is pretty excited not to get caught. Especially, to profilers.

'Maybe it fades away by then. I'll go make some coffee.' he answered, causing me to pound by the loss of contact. Automatically, I grabbed his hand, not letting him move.

'Sweetheart, you love coffee in the morning. We both do. And, I will be right back.' he cooed, smiling, as I finally let go of his hand, and let myself fall back on the mattress.

__________________________

Spencer's POV:

I smiled at her adorableness, while I went to the kitchen. I made some coffee, as I suddenly heard a knock on my apartment door. I placed the already made coffee on the counter, and walked towards the front door.

I opened it, as their was surprising and confusion on my face. Their stood Morgan, his eyes a bit concerned.

'Morgan, what are you doing here?'

'I came to check up on you. You seemed yesterday a little distracted and it looked like something was bothering you. Is everything alright?'

The surprising and confusion quickly faded, as a small smile appeared on my lips. It felt good, to know he actually cares about me. He wasn't wrong, though. The last case, hit me hard. And, I guess, I was a little distracted yesterday. Obviously, back home,

(Y/N) had noticed, and comforted me, while we talked about it. That helped a lot.

'I'm fine now, but why didn't you text me?'

'You can easily lie on a phone message. It's harder to lie, when I'm in front of you.'

'Well, thank you. I really appreciate it.'

We both gave each other a small smile, as Morgan's eyes got wide.

'Ohh, pretty boy, what didn't you tell me?' he asked, chuckling, and so ready to tease me, about whatever he was talking about.

'What do you mean?' I asked back, getting nervous.

'Something definitely happened. Has pretty boy, a secret relationship or did you get a one night stand?'

'MORGAN!'

'Come on, I need to know. Your hickey betrays everything.' then, the realization hit me like a bullet, I completely forgot about the mark on my neck.

'Umm, there-there is no one.' I managed to speak out, but Morgan didn't buy it.

'You better tell me, pretty boy. Or else, I'm gonna assume you had a one night stand.' now, I have to tell him. The last thing, I want, is that he thinks, I had a one night stand.

'There is this girl.'

'I can't believe, you have a girlfriend. Who is she? Do I know her?'

Just then, we heard footsteps coming from the bedroom.

'Spencer, where is the coffee-'

She walked in, stopping immediately her sentence, when she saw Morgan. She was wearing one of my shirts, which was too large for her beautiful figure. She looked amazing.

'No way! Pretty boy and pretty girl?' Morgan spoke in shock, already laughing.

'I um-' I tried to say something, but I couldn't deny it anymore. The truth is out.

So instead of denying it, I decided to embrace it.

I walked towards (Y/N), who was still standing nervously, and gave her a gentle kiss on her soft lips. We both smiled into it, and pulled apart, as I rested my arm around her shoulders.

'Congratulations you two. You really are made for each other.'

'Thank you.'

'Thanks Derek.'

For a few moments more, we talked. To be honest, we answered his questions. Eventually, Morgan said goodbye, leaving the two of us alone.

'Sorry, love, I didn't know.' I apologized, as she shook her head.

'Don't worry about it, Spence. They were going to find out, eventually. I'm actually glad, now we don't need to do secretly anymore.'

'Now can everyone know, you're mine.' I spoke, teasingly, making her laugh.

'I'm yours, love. And, you're mine.' we shared another sweet kiss, before pulling away again.

'Now, make me some coffee.'

_________________________

130 notes · View notes

eleanore-delphinium · 2 years ago

Text

Firstly those are the titles.

I didn't expect that 103 people would vote. For those that need more than the title to decide at the bottom are some hints.

These are the stories that are more or less more developed and because there is only 10 options available.

And with that said, whatever wins, I will write the summary of the story to the best of my abilities. (because let's be honest, I am very unreliable as a writer.) I will also give a week to give a chance to everyone and I won't be voting so I won't see the results.

Spoilers ahead.

Diaval

A maleficent AU. Been in my mind for 3 years, one of my earlier damirae plots.

My memory of this is blotchy sadly, they have kids here.

I could never actually write this because I can't figure out how I want to write it (and because I forgot some big bits).

Broken Vow

This is messy af. But honestly my fave and for me it's worth it.

Damian has 2 sons.

Damian divorced Raven.

Cheating.

Intrigue.

AFTER

Some JayRae here.

Story starts 5 years after Damian's death.

Nothing much to say about this if it's chosen, I have started this and it's been in my drafts for 2-3 years. I couldn't continue this because I didn't like how I wrote it, but I changed my mind when I reread it recently.

Angst.

The Prince of Wayne

This one kinda pokes fun of like boys over flowers and that kind of stories.

My memory of this is blotchy too.

But there is a plot and I vaguely remember the waypoints.

A World Without a You

This is short, and you guys have seen some of the dialogues of this AU.

Teaser 1 ( Dialogues from Damirae Fics I May or May Not Write. I .)

For reference:

Teaser 2 ( Dialogues from Damirae Fics I May or May Not Write. I(a) .)

I have written this (and been in the WIP graveyard for 2-3 years), but I didn't like it which was why I wanted to scrap it.

Dialogues above were what made me think of this AU.

Smooth Criminal

I tried writing this but never could go pass 2 paragraphs.

Enemies to Lovers.

Raven is in League of Assassins.

Damian is not.

Olympians

Greek Gods AU.

Jon and Raven are sometimes 'lovers/ siblings/ cousins/ some other thing' depending on the situation.

I have wrote this and have been in the WIP graveyard for a 2 years.

Mystery.

Damian and Raven met because he is looking for Hades' Flower.

The Cruel Joke

I wanted to kill someone. So I did.

Major Character death.

Then I realized it is similar to what happened to Barbara Gordon in Killing Joke, which is why the title is the way it is, it is a homage to that.

I have started this, and it is in my WIP graveyard for about 5 months.

The Cruel Joke: Teaser 1

Some of you might have also seen some of the lines, and for reference:

The Cruel Joke: Teaser 2

Marks

This one is one of my earliest Damirae fics too. It has been in my WIP graveyard the longest. Planned to be a 3 parter.

SMUT heavy, so heavy that I had a burnout.

Not a happy ending.

But by technicality it is, because I decided to show alternate worlds.

Damian has an arm sleeve tattoo.

Raven goes to college.

They met because Damian saved the damsel (in distress) on the streets of Gotham.

First And Last

AU is actually in Gods and Monsters wherein Bekka is Wonderwoman and Superman is Hernnan.

The first part was posted, for reference: FIRST

This is a 3 parter, that obviously never finished.

This actually has the first most unique proposal I ever thought of and I think about it now and then.

#damirae #demonbirds #robrae #damian wayne #raveb roth #teen titans #romance #raven #fanfiction #damian x raven #damian al ghul #dcamu #dc comics #otp

24 notes · View notes

symphonyofmars · 7 years ago

Text

House of the Dead 6

Woah when the person you like likes you back and your brain turns to mush and your heart feels like it’s gonna explode...

Get it together, kid.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, NOTE

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3,470

Fandom: Riverdale

Characters: Malachi, OC (Woman), Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, Cheryl, Toni, Penny

Pairings: Cannon show pairings (as of the end of season 2), Malachi/OC

Warnings: None for this chapter. I have one vote for smut so there may be smut (as soon as I remember how to write smut O_O)

After driving home that night, Malachi didn’t get much sleep. Regardless of that fact, he was still at East Greendale Library at 10am, having parked his car at Persephone’s house at 9:45 and walked there with her. Persephone opened the door just as he turned off the car and got out.

“So you just came here hoping I would be leaving the house at this time?”

“It looked like a fifteen-minute walk from your house and I thought maybe you’d like someone to walk with,” he took her tote bag of extra books off her shoulder as they walked, leaving her to carry her backpack. “See? I can carry your stuff for you.”

“You are just so very weird.”

Malachi laughed.

“Are all guys raised by their grandmother like this?”

“Like what?”

“Secretly old gentlemen.”

He laughed again.

“I’m half expecting you to pull out a pipe and tell me about ‘the good ol’ days.’”

“You’re kicking my foot.”

“Sorry.”

Persephone went back to writing and wrote two more sentences before she could no longer stand the thock, thock, thock, of Malachi’s boot hitting hers. She looked up from the notes she was making and smiled wryly. “You’re still doing it.”

Malachi smiled back. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“Uh huh.”

The library wasn’t very large, but it had accommodations for hundreds of books and was filled with ways to appreciate both the english language and the community that utilized the library. There were handmade posters with recommended books, new books, and activities for all ages. There were children’s reading areas with plush cushions and low kiddie tables and chairs. There were study areas, tables arranged in lines with four chairs each, some had computers and some didn’t.

That was where Malachi and Persephone were seated; her with books strewn around her, him with only two.

“You know, if you wanted to come here to flirt with me you could have just said so. Then I wouldn’t have shown up,” Persephone said with a laugh.

Malachi chuckled. “Maybe we could go somewhere else and flirt instead.”

Persephone smiled and went back to taking notes from her textbook.

Malachi re-read his copy of Lord of the Flies for a few moments before he got bored and decided to ask the question that had been bothering him since he arrived at her house earlier.

“Why do you come here to study?”

“Why?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what a library is for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… but you have a house. Why not study there if you don’t want anyone to bother you?”

She shrugged. “Normally no one bothers me.”

He nudged her foot with his. “Come on. Why bring all of this stuff here?”

She looked at him, then at the sea of books, papers, and office supplies around her. “It’s… nice to not be in an empty house.”

Malachi’s mouth opened in alarm. He thought he should change the subject.

“What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“Do you like it or are you just trying to get a good grade?”

“Can’t it be both?’ Persephone answered without looking up.

Malachi vaguely wondered if he should leave.

“It’s not… ” Persephone started, Malachi’s sudden attention on her making her freeze. “I know my mom is always working to make sure we even have a house, but it’s like… what’s the point if she’s never in it, you know?”

He nodded.

“I’m not ungrateful, but I also know I can’t convince her to stop working so much. I like being financially secure, but I also like having my mom around.”

He nodded again, slower this time.

Persephone went back to making notes. For about five minutes before she put her pencil down.

“I can’t concentrate.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No. But now I’m thinking about things and… I can’t concentrate on studying.”

“Mm… want to help me?” He brandished his book at her.

“I thought you finished it.”

“I did but now I’m having trouble with the paper. I don’t understand the themes.”

“Well… think of it in the sense of the characters and what they represent. Ralph represents civilization and humanity’s need take the chaos of life and turn it into something constructive. The other side of the coin, Jack, is humanity’s savage instinct, he’s barbaric and cruel and manipulates the younger boys.”

“So it’s like… is that ‘nature verses nurture’? I’ve heard people say that before but I don’t really know what it means.”

“Mmm… that’s more so the debate on if we’re born with our personality or if we develop it over time as we move through life. To explain in a succinct way.”

“Ah.”

“This is more the battle of civilization verses savagery. Should we do things for the benefit of the group? Or should we gratify our own desires and ‘fuck everyone else,’ you know?”

“I guess that explains why they want us to read it.”

“I mean, yeah. If you can get a bunch of teenagers to empathize with Ralph and dislike Jack because he gets some of the boys killed, that’s probably a good thing.” She laughed.

Someone across the room shushed them.

“Hmm…” Malachi thought for a moment.

Persephone went back to making notes from her Biology textbook, her mind less cluttered than before.

“So then… then the book is kind of like Ralph.”

She looked up. “How so?”

“Well… it’s that thing the teacher was talking about, an… ally…”

“Allegory?”

“Yeah. Where each character means something so the story means something.”

“Yeah,” it is.

“So the book is kind of like… trying to show us that we should prefer civilization over savagery because civilization keeps everyone alive and gets things done.”

“Yeah. Like if I just said screw it and didn’t do this biology studying, right? I just knocked all these books off the table and went outside and like, I don’t know, went and just played a ton of video games and ate a ton of junk food and just never came back and didn’t graduate, like… yeah that might be fun while I’m doing it but it would be so hard to get a job later without a high school diploma. And I’d have a bitch of a time trying to get into college.”

Malachi nodded at her explanation until she lost him at the last part. “You want to go to college?”

She nodded back. “Yeah. I want to make something of myself and be able to leave here at some point. At the very least, I just want to have one well-paying job and vacation time so I can actually enjoy my life.”

“Wow. And I was having a hard time figuring out what my extracurricular class was going to be,” he laughed.

“Well… which one seems interesting?”

“I was thinking maybe the auto classes? I like cars and fixing stuff so…”

Persephone smiled. “That’s a great idea. You should do something you enjoy doing.”

Malachi straightened up and his mood brightened. “Yeah, and I think that I could do it as a job and also work on my own stuff. You know, make money and do something I love, so it would be cool.”

“Yeah.”

A man who looked to be in his thirties walked over with a handful of books. Malachi could see from his name tag that he was called Daniel and that he worked there.

“Heyyy, Seph. How’s studying?”

“Hey Daniel. Pretty good.”

“Who’s this?”

“This is Malachi. He’s helping distract me.”

“Ahh,” a vocalization drawn out with a raised brow and a knowing smirk. “So, I have a couple books to sort, but then I have a good literary fact for you today.”

“Okay. We’ll be here.”

Daniel smiled and walked into one of the ‘Librarians Only’ areas with his books.

Malachi leaned in, “That’s the guy you told me about?”

“Yeah. We should work on our stuff quick before he gets back, he’ll blab for a while.”

Malachi did as advised and worked on his paper, while Persephone went back to her Biology notes.

After about fifteen minutes Daniel came back and sat at the table, a smug look on his face.

“So, are you ready for this one?”

Persephone closed her textbook on her notes. “Yes.”

“Charles Dickens?”

“Yes.”

“Hans Christian Anderson?”

“Yes.”

Malachi looked from Persephone to Daniel. “I don't get it.”

“Just checking if you know who they are.”

Malachi didn't but he wasn’t about to admit it. If he were being honest, he kind of wanted Daniel to go away. Not that he was jealous or anything – Daniel was obviously older than them and Persephone was clearly not interested in him in that way – but it was nice to talk to Persephone outside of the school cafeteria. He also wanted to talk about how they ended the night before.

That kiss had kept him up for most of the night, agonizing, wondering if he was insane for liking her as much as he already did, trying to talk himself out of it. Was he being too forward? Not forward enough? During the school week had heard one of the guys in the locker room tell another guy, “Dude, you should never let a girl know you like them because it gives them too much power.” He stood there on the other side of the lockers and listened as he asked his friend, “Dude, do you want her to have power over you?” and told him, “If a girl has power over you, you're a goner.” But in all the explanation the guy had for his friend – minutes of meaningless sentences and statements that he said like they were irrefutable facts that made Malachi honestly wonder if maybe the guy disguised a hatred of women – he couldn't figure out just why telling a girl you liked them made you a goner, or what it even meant to be ‘a goner’. If being a goner was having a girl like you back, going on dates, talking about life and everything else, and you got to make out and stuff, he didn’t really give a shit. He was more than happy to be a goner.

“Okay, so,” Daniel continued, “in 1847, Hans Christian Anderson went to England for the first time and went to the party of the Countess of Blessington.”

“That name is almost too English.”

“Right? It’s like a fake name. Anyway, it was one of those salon-type parties where authors would go to meet each other and talk about being authors, and he met Charles Dickens there. They both wrote about poor people and how hard it was to be poor during the industrial revolution, and Anderson loved Dickens’ work so he just gushed when he met him.”

Persephone nodded.

“Anderson went home and they kept in touch for ten years and then Anderson went back to England again, to visit Dickens for a few days, and ended up staying at his house for five weeks.”

Persephone laughed. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. Eventually he was bothering Dickens’ family so much that he kicked him out and ghosted him slowly and Anderson never knew why he didn't answer his letters.”

“Aww, poor guy. I mean, you shouldn’t stay at someone’s house for over a month unless they ask you to, but he probably thought they were good friends.”

Daniel chuckled, “Yeah. At some point he was apparently crying in Dickens’ front yard because something he wrote got rejected. So obviously they wanted him to leave.” He stood. “Anyway, that's my literary thing for today. I have more books to re-shelve.”

“That was pretty good, see you around.”

Malachi smiled as Daniel waved goodbye to them before picking up more books to put away. He turned to Persephone who was opening her textbook to continue her notes.

“That was pretty random.”

“Yeah, I think they always have to do with whatever he’s reading at the moment.”

“He didn’t stay around for that long.”

“Yeah… maybe because you’re here.”

Malachi wondered if he was blushing and if he should finally ask about the night before when Persephone opened her textbook and went back to her note-taking. He decided not to bother her and went back to his paper.

They stayed there until 4pm when Persephone’s stomach had finally growled loudly enough to make her admit that maybe she was hungry and had to go home to eat. She and Malachi walked back to her house.

After a few minutes he finally got up the courage to ask what had been bothering him all morning.

“So… are we going to talk about yesterday?”

“What about it?”

“That kiss.”

She smiled. “What about it?”

He smiled. “It was pretty great.”

“It was.”

“Maybe… we could do it again sometime?”

“Maybe.”

“Does this make us…” he gestured uselessly.

“’Make us’ what?” She mimicked his gesture.

“Are we dating?”

She stopped in her tracks. “Well…”

Malachi had a sudden sense of fear wash over him that he didn’t know how to control. He suddenly feared the answer and wished he hadn’t asked.

“We’ve only been on one date, so I guess after our second one, then we’ll be dating.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Because ‘dating’ implies multiple dates—”

He hadn’t meant to interrupt her, but suddenly his face was on hers and neither was speaking. Her bag of books slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor spilling the contents. His hands at her waist, he tightened his grip and lifted her up, her feet barely touching the ground. Both of them were dully aware of the books falling and though the back of Persephone’s brain yelled at her for possibly damaging the covers, the rest of her brain did not give a shit and continued kissing Malachi back.

After a few moments he pulled away, releasing her back to the ground. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

She shook her head, smiling. “That’s okay.”

She stooped to pick up her books and he immediately followed suit and helped her.

“So, does this mean you’re asking me out?”

She laughed. “I suppose it does.”

Malachi smiled. “Can I walk you home?”

Persephone laughed again. “You are walking me home, you goober.”

Malachi realized his mistake and smiled bashfully.

“Why do you do things like that?”

“Like what?”

“Asking me if you could walk me home while you already are?”

The books safely back in the bag where they belonged, Malachi took the bag out of her hand and shouldered it, continuing the direction they were walking.

“Um, I don’t know. Something about you makes my brain go all stupid and I just say whatever’s in my head.”

“That’s weird.”

He shrugged. He wasn’t sure what else to say, if he could control it and give off the appearance of being cool instead of a doofy teenaged boy, he would.

“But that seems like a you thing.”

He smiled.

She took his hand with hers and interlaced her fingers in his, squeezing them with her own. They walked hand in hand all the way back to her house, leisurely strolling. The hand holding made Persephone forget she was even hungry. Once they had gotten to her house, Malachi walked her up the steps and handed her the bag.

“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t invite you in. There isn’t that much food in the fridge.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure my grandma is already making dinner and wondering where I am.”

“I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yeah.”

Malachi turned to walk back down the steps when Persephone stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

“See you then.”

Malachi stumbled back a moment and caught the railing. “Yeah. See you.”

Malachi pushed the door open and two of the dogs, Tiny and Bear, were the ones to crowd him and ‘inspect’ him upon his return to the house.

“Mal? That you?”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

He stood there as they sniffed his legs, and licked as his hands, two good boys who wanted to make sure their house was secure. After a couple seconds, Bear led the way into the kitchen while Tiny went back to looking out the window.

He walked behind Bear into the kitchen, where his grandma was stirring a pot of food while Leo stood next to her.

“Hey mama, what’s for dinner?” He asked and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Paella. Where were you all day? Not getting into trouble I hope.”

Malachi dropped his backpack on the floor and grabbed a piece of chicken from the pot and ate it. His grandmother swatted his hand away.

“I was at the library.”

She stopped stirring. “Since when do you go to the library?”

“That girl I went out with yesterday goes there to study and invited me.”

“A girl that can get my Mal to study? You should marry her,” she laughed and went back to stirring.

“Want to go to Bleeker’s again on Friday?”

Apple slices were on the menu that day and Persephone crunched on one as she thought.

“Yeah, I had fun last week. I’ll go again. Are there new bands?”

Mal attempted to answer but was interrupted by a kid with teal green glasses.

“Hi,” the kid said shyly. “Can I sit here?”

“It’s a free country,” Persephone said as she looked back at Malachi.

Before he could answer her question, the kid was talking again.

“I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You kind of are,” Malachi said flatly.

“--I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to say thank you for saving my glasses on Friday.”

Persephone searched the kid’s face for a moment.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” he held out his hand, “I’m Alex. You saved my glasses from getting stepped on at the concert.

“I thought the frames looked familiar,” Persephone said and went back to eating.

Alex put his hand down. “Yeah, they’re the only ones I have so I wanted to say thank you for saving them. My dad would have killed me if they got broken.”

“No problem. That’s a nice jacket by the way.”

He looked at his jacket and smiled, adjusting the lapels. The jacket was covered in band patches and so covered in studs that it almost looked like armor instead of outerwear.

“Thanks I did all the studs and everything myself. Um, do you mind if I sit with you guys?”

“Aren’t you already?”

“I mean… permanently. I’m kind of being picked on and—”

Persephone put her hand on the table. “Say no more. You can sit with us. I’m Persephone, he’s Malachi.”

Malachi gave a small wave.

Alex smiled. “Cool. So what were you guys talking about?”

“I was just saying we should go to Bleeker’s again this Friday and was about to say what bands were playing when you interrupted me.”

“Oh, sorry.” Alex took his lunch out of his bag and started eating his sandwich. “So who’s playing?”

“Three locals again: The Martin Luther Things—”

Persephone had to stop from spitting out her milk. “The what?”

Malachi laughed at her reaction and handed her a napkin. “The Martin Luther Things. No explanation. I’m guessing we’ll find out when we get there.”

Alex laughed. “They’re a bunch of guys who wear black suits and zombie makeup. They’re all black. I mean… obviously…” Alex suddenly felt awkward due to Persephone’s darker skin and didn’t want to say anything stupid.

“I already love them,” Persephone said and laughed.

“Uh, yeah, they’re pretty good. I think their drummer is a girl.”

She laughed. “That’s magical. Go on.”

Malachi smiled. “Captain Twerk—”

“They’re a bunch of girls who all wear Star Trek uniforms when they play and their songs are all about space.”

“—and Bad Sex.”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

“Well I guess they know someone because they’re headlining.”

Alex shrugged and kept eating.

Persephone was inconsolable. “Captain Twerk? I love it!”

The laughing while eating sent her into a coughing fit, having swallowed her milk wrong and Malachi reached across the table and patted her on the back.

Alex put a hand on her back as well, the picture of concern. Once Persephone was done choking and was okay, he returned to the subject of weekend concerts.

“So… could I go with you guys?”

Persephone coughed the last of the milk out of her lungs. “Afraid you might lose your glasses again?”

Alex laughed quietly. “You guys just seem cool is all.”

“Tell you what,” Malachi interjected, “Make me a jacket like that and you can come with us.”

“Oh… they take a while to make. This took me like a month of working on it every day after school.”

Malachi looked at Persephone and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you can come with us anyway.”

#malachi #malachi/oc #fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale fic #riverdale fanfiction #ghoulies #the ghoulies #original character #like I said; I have one vote for smut but now I need to figure out where to put it and also how to write it again #updating is fun #more fun than being on a plane for seven hours as I just was lolol #house of the dead

6 notes · View notes

kyloxox · 3 years ago

Text

Number 456(Seong Gi-Hun x Reader Smut)

Summary: You and Gi-Hun meet during the Squid Games and join alliances. What happens when he tries to protect you from the night fights?

Warnings: Age gap, smut, unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, fingering, oral, dirty talk, mention of death.

You didn’t notice him, when you first arrived or even at the first game. He didn’t really stand out. He was shy and quiet. But so were you. No one looked or even acknowledged you and if you were being honest you didn’t mind. A lot of the people in there were rough and brutal.

After the first game you were struck with fear and terror. You didn’t know what to do but you wanted out. You stood in the ground as several players begged for them to be free. You would have joined them, you should have joined them but then a man appeared in the front of the crowd saying that if everyone voted for whether they would like to stay or not.

That's when you noticed him. He was the first to vote. His tall figure walked up slowly as he reached to two options. He pressed to end the game. You sighed at his choice, he was smart. You were only about 10 people behind him. You also chose to end the game, only a sane person would.

As you turned away from the panels you made eye contact with him. He was staring directly at you. He sent you a small smile you were guessing it was because of your choice. At the end of it the final decision was to leave.

After a long drive of being tied and blindfolded. You were suddenly thrown out of a car with another person. He started to scream for someone to help him.

“Hey! Hey! I’m right here.” You yelled back at him. Your hands met his face and grabbed the blind fold off. As Gi-Hun was able to see again his eyes adjusted to the street lights he turned to you. Blind folded as well, hands tied and in your underwear. He did a double take as he stared down at your almost naked form.

“Please untie me.” You whined to him. He moved his attention towards your hands and moved his mouth down. He started to skillfully untie it with his teeth. Soon the knot was undone. As your hands were free you untied your feet. You then took off your blindfold. You turned to see the man next to you in just his boxers. You examined his body, a lean long figure with toned abs flexed as he struggled against his restraints. You were distracted until he finally caught your attention by kicking one of your legs with his tighten ones.

“Right sorry.” You bent down to untie his hands and legs. Gi-Hun rolls his wrists as they were free from their confines. He stood up and you followed his lead. Now here the both of you were standing in the middle of the street in the dark wearing just your under garments.

You turned your attention to the ground to see your clothes spilled around the road. You quickly shifted through the things to find your own. You remember wearing a white shirt when getting picked up so you grabbed the first one on the ground. As you slipped it over your head, you realized how big it seemed to be on you. Maybe you lost weight while at the game? That would be nearly impossible it had only been 24 hours.

“I-ugh-I think that’s my shirt.” The man in front of you said.

“Oh right. Sorry.” You were about to take it off but he stops you.

“It’s alright, it seems they only put one of the shirts in here.” He shifted through the bag and there wasn't another piece of white fabric.

“But you’ll need a shirt-” He stops your sentence as he holds up a jacket.

“Don’t worry I came prepared.” You smiled at his dorky comment.

“Ok thank you.” You looked down at the ground in embarrassment. “Well I guess I should be going. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He smiled at you before you turned away.

It was nice to meet you?

God y/n, what were you thinking?

As you walked back home you contemplated the interaction you had. You probably sounded so stupid. You guys just came back from a death game show and you said it was nice to meet in. In there? You were probably overthinking the interaction, it wasn't like you were gonna see him again right?

As you stood at the stop you felt like an idiot. Days before you were begging to go home and now you’re waiting to come back. You stood in the silent street and the coldness made goosebumps appear on your skin. The ride to the place is the same, you don't remember it.

You wake up with a gasp as you are blinded by the bright lights in the room. You look around and see everyone. It is similar to the amount of people you left with. You also spot him, 456. He's talking to the old man. He looks even more attractive now and you don't even know why. You shake your head out of the thought, you need to stay focused on the game not him.

After escaping your death by seconds you exit the demented playroom. As you walk down the colorful stairs you notice Gi-Hun a few people in front of you. He was the name who saved you, truly. Without his technique of licking the shape you would be dead. You quickly move past the people in front of you with a quick excuse me and you finally reach him.

“You saved my life back there.” You say as you walk up to him.

“Huh?” He says to you as he turns with those adorable confused eyes.

“The licking, you came up with it.” You say in response. As you admire his features you notice the small gray hairs scattering his black, indicating he is older than you.

“Oh right. Well I’m happy you made it.” He smiles.

“Thanks.” You feel heat rise to your face from his comment, it probably didn’t even mean anything. He was just being a good competitor. You both walk back in silence into the main room. As you reach the room you see two men staring at Gi-Hun who seem happy that he made it.

“It will take a whole lot more to kill, Gi-Hun.” He laughs with one of the men. The comment makes you feel more flustered. He made everything he said sound so hot. As the men continue their conversation they speak on their terms of picking their shapes.

The taller man apologizes for wanted their team to separate but Gi-Hun replies in kind remarks that he was the one who chose the umbrella. Again another comment that makes your face and body heat up. Gi-Hun was so kind and caring he didn’t belong in a place like this.

“Yeah the whole team made it.” The taller man then finishes the conversation with that before he turns to you. Gi-Hun catches this and comes to your rescue before it turns into an awkward exchange.

“This is y/n. I met her after our first day and she now claims I saved her life but I think it was herself who saved her.” He laughs and bumps you with his elbow. Your face couldn’t be more flustered by this man.

“It’s nice to met you all.” The two men introduced themselves to you as Ali and Sang-woo.

“I was thinking she could join our team.” Gi-Hun said with an enthusiastic grin. He turned from his teammates to you, same innocent smile on his face. “If you would like to y/n, no pressure.”

“Sure, why not?” You said in response it couldn't hurt to have a few allies. Especially Gi-Hun.

Both Gi-Hun and Ali seemed excited to have another member but you couldn’t grasp Sang-woo’s expression. He seemed serious and almost upset. The man, Ali began to engage a conversation with you. As you walked with him Sang-woo stayed behind with Gi-Hun.

“Gi-Hun, you really invited a girl to our team?” Sang-woo whispered over to Gi-Hun when they walked away from you. Gi-Hun looked over at with a confused expression.

“Huh?”

“We all know girls are the weak links here, they aren’t strong enough for some of these tasks.”

“Y/n will be fine.”

“All I’m saying is don’t sabotage yourself and your chances for this girl.” Sang-woo said with strict eyes as he walked away from Gi-Hun. Gi-Hun stayed put as he tried to think about what Sang-woo said but he saw you looking at him with a small smile and that drained any negative thoughts Gi-Hun had.

It was another day of torture in this cold, lifeless room. As you laid in bed you felt a presence near you and you jumped up.

“Hey, hey it’s me.” You heard the kind voice you knew so well.

“Gi-Hun?” You said as you looked at him in the dime light.

“There could be attacks tonight. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Thank you. I’m fine, right now.”

“Good, good. I guess I should return-” You place your hand on his as he started to move away. He stared at your hand on his almost uncertain.

“Stay. Protect me. And I’ll protect you.” You whispered moving over in your bed.

He shifted is way next to you. The bed was small but it could fit you two. You were facing each other staring at each other’s features. You turned around so your back was facing him but you moved against his body. He melted into you as he wrapped his arms around your body. He was breathing against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine.

The hand he had wrapped around your belly began to slowly touch the exposed part of your belly where your shirt rose up. He then continued his touches by moving his hand slowly to your exposed waist. Your breathing began to grow heavier as his calloused hands made sweet contact with your skin. He moved closer to you so it mouth was closer to your neck, barely needing to move in order to touch you. Soon he is sending kisses up your neck. You grind your ass against his boner as he continues the attack on your neck.

“We have to be quiet.” You whispered to him.

“I know I can be, but can you?”

“Yes, Gi-Hun just give it to me please. Give me anything.”

He pulls down your track suit bottoms and moves your panties to the side. He feels as wetness coats his fingers and he continues to swim in it. You haven’t been touched in so long and his hands were addictive.

“You feel so good.” You whined to him. He moves his finger tip to the entrances of your hole. You jump up at the feeling. It was electric and you wanted nothing more than his thick fingers pushing against your walls.

“So sensitive.” He responded to your action. You move your hand to his crotch and start stroking him through his pants. He moans in your ear at the touch.

It’s embarrassing for him to admit but Gi-Hun probably hasn’t had sex in years. Probably since his divorce like 6 years ago. And the feeling of your hand was like the touch of an angel. The fabric was corse on his dick but it didn’t hurt it was pleasurable.

“Baby.” He moans in your ear in this soft voice. His voice was addictive almost as addictive as his touch on you and your touch on him. Both your bodies were burning up in the cold dark room.

You didn’t waste much time moving yourself under the covers until you were faced with his clothed boner. You bite your lips as you look at the size of it straining against the fabric. You grab the top of his pants and boxers and bring the fabric down. You gasp as it reveals itself to you.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself and you guess Gi-Hun can hear you even under the covers cause you hear him laugh a little. You shut his laugh up with a long lick from the base to the tip. You feel him grip the sheets below you before he moves one of his hands in your hair. While his long fingers dig into your scalp he drags your head up and down. You didn’t mind the instruction, it helped you pleasure your savior even more. He was your savior after all in every game he helped you survive. You continue your attack on him until he stops you. You reveal yourself from under the sheets.

“I wanna have some fun with you.” He explains as he sees your confused expression.

He pulls down your track suit and underwear completely and throws them to the edge of the bed. He lays at the end of the bed also. His face meets your cunt and he stares at it to memorize his features. A few seconds later he is diving into the sweet mound in front of him. He doesn’t devour you though. No. Not like ravenous animal. He takes his time with you. Slow long clits against your clit, like the ones he took at the honeycomb. The texture of his rough tongue against your most sensitive area sends stock waves through out your body.

“Gi-Hun fuck.” You breath as you throw your head back and close your eyes at the sensation. His wet tongue never leaves your clit as it gives it lick after lick. It was better than you imagined when you fantasized it during the 2nd game. He’s licking at you like you're ice cream, the best ice cream in the world. And he wants every taste. He gives one final lick before he is resting his head against your thigh looking up at you with his puppy dog eyes.

“You taste sweeter than that sugar. Much funner to lick too.” He laughs against your thigh, before moving back down. Now he begins a more wild assault as he sucks your clit into his mouth. As he does his eyes never leave yours, he wants to see every reaction and see what he’s doing to you. For a spilt second he leaves you and you whine.

“Open your eyes baby, I wanna see you.” Gi-Hun says before he dives back into you. You bite your lip but obey his requests. Now his eyes on you aren’t lonely and you both stare wildly at each other. His eyes are soft and almost innocent, like he truly is only licking honeycomb when in reality it is so much dirtier.

His hand that was holding a grip on your thigh moves down to where his mouth plays. He swipes them lightly against your entrance, collecting a bit of wetness. Your hips involuntarily grind up as his miss his touch. He laughs at your action and repeats his actions, which cause you to repeat the grind of your hips.

“So desperate, especially in the middle of all this.” Gi-Hun finally gives into your requests and sinks two fingers deep into you. You moan at the feeling and grind your hips up again.

“Thought I’d finally get these hips to control themselves by doing this, but it’s just making it worse. Maybe I should stop.”

“No, no please don’t stop I want more. I want you.” You whimper against him. Gi-Hun looks like he is thinking for a second before speaking. He moves up the bed so he is now on top of you.

“You want it bad don’t you baby?” Gi-hun grips his dick as he lines it up with your entrance.

“Fuck yes gi-hun. I want to feel you in me.” You whimpered as you felt the tip of his hardness poke your entrance. Gi-Hun is panting above you before he starts to slowly push himself into you. You gasped and moaned at the foreign feeling of him inside you.

He then moved his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him. “Shh, we have to be quiet.” He said as he began to move slowly. As he held himself up his sweaty hair draped his face. He looked sinful with his eyes glued shut and his mouth open slipping out small moans. You clench down on him and Gi-Hun can’t even listen to his own advice when he throws his head back and let out a moan at the sudden contraction.

“Wet tight little girl, aren’t you.” He whimpered above you as he began to thrust his hips trying his hardest not to come too soon. Even though he’s not inexperienced Gi-Hun is convinced that you're the tightest cunt he’s ever had.

“Please go faster.” You whine beneath him as his slow thrusts you torture you with a glimpse of his full potential. You to wrap your legs around him and grab onto his soft hair. And with more stability Gi-Hun is able to give more forceful thrusts that sent you into a whirlwind.

“Fucking slut wants me to fuck her hard so everyone can hear.” He whispered in your ear. You took a quick look around the room, everybody seemed to be asleep. As you stared back at the man in-front of you, you gushed around him as you looked at his face, he was in bliss and his dopey smile made you even hotter against him. Even after he says such filthy words his face still displays his kind nature. You let out an involuntary moan that was probably louder than it should have been.

“Shh baby.” He whispered in your ear. “No one else gets to hear your pretty moans except me.” He moved one of his hands from balancing himself to covering your mouth. His hand was so huge it nearly covered the first half of your face. He continued his forceful thrusts into you as you begged and muffled into his hand. You looked up at him with pleading eyes as you watched his body move against yours.

“You wanna win that price money don’t you?” He whispered in your ear. You looked at him with confused eyes that still hid mischief behind them. “I’m gonna win it for you baby.” He started to thrust faster. “Gonna make sure you’re safe and comfortable. We’re gonna win this competition. I’ll do it all for you baby.” His promises make you gush around him. Now all you can imagine is your life with him after this, living like the rich with not debts. He finally moves his hand from your mouth cause all he wants to hear now is your moans.

“Gi-Hun.” Is all you can say in response to him. “Please.”

“Please what?” He says with that same concerned adorable face.

“Come in me.” He groans at your request and his hits stutter at the thought. He still holds his balance but you can see him grow weaker. It’s hot the way his eyes focus on yours, focusing all their strength into staring at you in your drunken haze.

“Fuck yeah baby I’ll come in you.” He moans back continuing his fast but sloppy thrusts but they are more than enough to send you over the edge. “I’ll give you what you want.” His promise makes the build up in your stomach overflow and soon you feel yourself coming.

“Gi-Hun I’m coming.” You whimper still holding onto his hair with all your strength. Your body hits you with an unreal feeling of pleasure ripple through your body. Your hand fly from his hair to clutching the sheets beneath you. He fucks you through your orgasm as he inches closer to his. As you help him through his orgasm you bring your hands to his hair against. You guide his face to yours and you connect your lips with his. The kiss is magnetic as you don’t stop kissing him and he doesn’t stop either. Before you know it Gi-Hun is breaking away from the kiss to let out a moan.

“Fuck I’m coming, fuck I’m coming baby.” He moans as you feel his body stiffen. He pumps his hot load into you and you feel full of his warm cum. He pulls out and stares down at your cunt, his seed slowly slipping out of you. He gulps as he moves his eyes to yours. He collapses next to you.

“Do you think anyone heard?” You said looking around.

“Maybe you were kinda loud.” He joked.

“Says you.” You reply.

“It seems like there isn't gonna be any attack tonight.” Gi-Hun also began to look around the room.

“Maybe not. You should still stay just incase you know.”

“Okay yeah.” He says looking at you with unsure eyes. You suppose Gi-Hun is back to his shy self. You grab his hand to give him a sign to relax and you lay back down. He follows soon after, wrapping his arms around you.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game smut #squid game fanfic #gi hun #gi hun x reader #gi hun squid game #seong gi hun #gi-hun #gi-hun x reader #seong gi hun x reader #seong gi-hun x reader #gi-hun fanfiction #smut #gi-hun smut #seong gi-hun smut #seong gi hun smut

2K notes · View notes

https-harlow · 2 years ago

Text

So Close, Yet So Far-Part 3 (Finale)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary-(18+ series) The reader finally tells Jack about her feelings, and when they aren't reciprocated, Urban comforts her. As much as the reader doesn't want to hurt either of the boys feelings, she knows she has to make a choice, and she does, causing a couple of different reactions.

Word Count- 12k

Warnings- Smut, angst, fluff, honestly a rollercoaster of emotions.

A/N- I hope you guys like this, this is the longest thing I have ever written and the thing I've put this most effort into, and I'm really proud of it. With a vote of 49 to 38, this is who was picked in the poll, and as much as I did consider writing an ending for both, I've decided not to do that, I can't see the series ending any other way after I wrote this one. I hope you like it either way.

You woke up on top of Urban’s chest, his hands loosely on your back. You laid in his arms again for a few minutes, thinking about the night before. You sighed softly, slowly moving out of Urban’s arms, this time successfully, pausing for a second as you stood up to make sure Urban stayed asleep, watching as he stirred slightly at the loss of contact, but not enough to wake up, arms wrapping around a pillow instead of your waist. You quietly got ready, occasionally when you would make to loud of a noise, your head would shoot over to Urban to make sure he didn’t wake up.

Once you were done getting ready you walked out to the living room, sitting down on the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest, hugging them and resting your chin on your knees. You sighed again, you were glad that Urban felt comfortable enough to admit his feelings towards you, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you didn’t notice. You didn’t feel bad about your feelings towards Jack, Urban was telling you to tell Jack, but you weren’t sure if that was the right thing to do. There was only 2 ways that could end, both with one of you heartbroken.

Most likely it would be you. You couldn’t help but be heartbroken if Jack didn’t love you back, but Urban would end up heartbroken if Jack did love you back and you started dating Jack. You wanted to protect yourself, but you knew Urban was right, you needed to talk to Jack about your feelings you just needed to figure out when the right time to do that was.

You didn’t have as much time as you would have liked to think about last night and every possible situation that could come of it before you heard Urban walking out of your room, you looked up as he walked around the corner.

“Where’d you go?” Urban asked, walking over to the couch, sitting down next to you.

“Well, I’m sitting right here, aren’t I?” You teased, making Urban roll his eyes.

“You know what I mean.” Urban muttered, as you leaned into his side, laying your head on his shoulder, Urban laying his arm over your shoulders. He was glad you were still able to be comfortable with him, your relationship remained normal, like your conversation last night never happened.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” You said and Urban nodded.

“Are you okay? After everything last night.” Urban asked, and you nodded this time.

“Yeah, I know you and Jack sleep with other people. I guess I just don’t usually see it, or maybe I just haven’t noticed. I just feel bad, I feel like I’m ruining my relationship with both of you.” You explained.

“You could never ruin your relationship with me. No matter what, if you end up with Jack and spend the rest of your life with him, or you do that with me, or neither of us, and find someone else you’re in love with, you’re never getting rid of me. I’ll figure my own feelings out, don’t worry about me.” Urban reassured you “I know Jack will understand too, it’s hard to have this type of relationship without someone getting some sort of feelings. Especially as long as we have, it’s been what 4 or 5 years now?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You sighed softly.

“You’re not the only one who fell in love either, so nothing would be only your fault.” Urban said, and you reached out to trace the tattoo on Urban’s arm. Urban looked down at your hand and smiled softly.

“Promise me no matter what you’ll never hate me.” You said, keeping your eyes on Urban’s tattoo, while his moved to look at you.

“Promise. I mean it when I say you’re never getting rid of me.” Urban said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“When did you realize you were in love with me?” You asked Urban. Urban leaned back on the couch, thinking to himself for a minute.

“I can’t think of a specific moment I fell in love with you, but I remember when I realized I was in love with you. You were picking Jack and I up from the airport a year or two ago, I can’t remember where we were coming from, but I just remember thinking that I never wanted to go another day without seeing you or talking to you. I just remember something was different that time. I guess my life, or our lives, are so hectic, that you are one of the most consistent things in my life, no matter where we were going, or what happened on our trips, that I would come back home to you, and everything was okay. If I wasn’t coming home to you, it’s because you were with us. I could never decide which one was better.” Urban explained.

“Is that why you’ve always been so adamant about me going on trips with you?” You asked, finally looking up at Urban.

“Yeah, as nice as it is to be able to come home to you, I think I decided that I liked having you with us better.” Urban said. “When did you realize you were in love with Jack?” Urban asked you.

“Do you really want to know, or are you only asking because I asked when you fell in love with me?” You asked and Urban hesitated, part of him was curious and wanted to know, but the other part of him didn’t.

“Yeah, I want to know.” Urban told you, and you looked at him for a second to make sure he didn’t change his mind before you started to explain.

“Like you, I don’t think there was one specific moment I fell in love with Jack, it kind of happened in time. Looking back, I think it started in high school honestly. Remember our senior prom when you and Jack were supposed to be going with a bunch of your friends and Jack ended up ditching you guys and going with me?” You asked and Urban nodded, slightly confused where you were going.

“Yeah, I do.” Urban said before you continued.

“I was supposed to go with my boyfriend, but he broke up with me a couple days before prom, and Jack found out, and asked me to go with him instead.” You explained, “I know it’s stupid, but I guess it just made me realize how much he cared about me, enough to ditch his friends, because he knew I was upset. After that I guess I just started picking up on everything he did, and maybe he meant nothing by any of it, I don’t know, but it made me fall in love with him.” You said, playing with Urban’s fingers as you talked.

“I didn’t know that.” Urban said, referring to the reason Jack took you to prom that year.

“Yeah, well, in high school I didn’t want to be known as the girl whose boyfriend broke up with her right before prom and had someone take her as a pity date, and now I don’t really think or talk about our high school prom anymore.” You said, laughing softly, Urban laughing with you.

“Fair enough, I don’t either. I was confused why Jack ditched us for a while though. He never told us why.” Urban admitted.

“Well now you know, I was the cliché girl in a high school movie.” You joked, making Urban laugh again.

“Can I be honest with you?” Urban asked you.

“Always.” You told him.

“I had a crush on you in high school. I was always just too scared to tell you, I guess that never changed. Then I though Jack liked you after the prom situation, so I got over it eventually and moved on for a while, until I fell in love with you.” Urban said. “I was actually really jealous that Jack was the one to take you to prom.” Urban admitted.

“If you could go back and change things, would you?” You asked Urban, who thought for a second.

“I’m not sure, I don’t think I would, would you?” He asked, making you think. His truthful answer was yes, he would. He would have told you he liked you in high school, maybe you would have fallen in love with him rather than Jack, he often thought of that situation, how his life would have been different if he had gotten the courage to admit his feelings sooner. Would you be engaged, or married yet? Would you live together? Would you have a dog or have started a family? He had no answers to any of those questions, and he never would, but he couldn’t help but think about it often.

“Maybe, it’s hard to say.” You answered, your answer would have also been yes, but you weren’t sure what you’d change. Would you have admitted your feelings to Jack? Probably not, admitting your feelings didn’t guarantee he felt the same way. You probably would have changed falling in love with Jack in the first place. You both sat in silence, you still playing with Urban’s fingers, neither of you looking at each other, but both looking down at where your hands were connected, just like you had been for almost your entire conversation.

“Can we go get breakfast before we go to the studio?” You asked Urban and he nodded.

“Of course, I’ll go get ready then we can go.” Urban told you. “Are you sure you still want to go today? I can make up some excuse for you if you don’t.”

“Yeah, I’m sure, I promise I’m okay Urb. I would tell you if I wasn’t, plus I can always leave if I change my mind.” You told him, and he nodded, standing up and going to get ready for the day. Nothing had changed with your relationship with Jack, so you knew you would be fine being around him all day.

An hour later you and Urban walked into the studio together, Jack looking over at the door as he heard you walking in and smiled softly, greeting Urban before holding his arms out for you to walk into, which you did, hugging him.

“Hey, you okay? You left early last night?” Jack whispered to you as he hugged you, even though it was late when you left the night before, you were still one of the first ones to leave.

“Yeah, I’m good, just got tired.” You whispered back, Jack nodded, tilting his head down to press his lips softly to the top of your head before pulling away from the hug, going back to his seat. The seat next to Jack was open, everyone knew wherever Jack was sitting, your spot was right next to him, but today you sat down on the couch at the side of the room. Jack watched you sit down and looked confused when you didn’t sit next to him. Jack’s eyes flickered to Urban, then you, then back to Urban, who just shrugged, he didn’t feel like he should be the one to tell Jack what happened. He knew you would when you were ready.

Most of the day at the studio Jack couldn’t get his mind off of why you weren’t acting like you normally did, but he couldn’t figure it out. He thought maybe you were still tired, but usually you got clingier when you were tired, plus you seemed fine with everyone else except him, but he let himself get distracted with his work like he normally did. As it got later some people started to leave, while another group decided to go out again. This time Jack decided to just go home, while Urban decided to go out again.

“You going to come with us?” Urban asked you, and you shook your head.

“No, I think I’m going to go home.” You said, and Urban nodded.

“Want me to drop you off first?” Urban asked you since he drove you both here, he was your ride home.

“I can take you.” Jack offered, chiming into your conversation.

“Okay.” You smiled softly at Jack. Everyone saying goodbye, Urban double checking that you didn’t want him to take you home before you went your separate ways. Somehow on the short drive home Jack convinced you to come back to their apartment, with the promise of a movie night, which you would never deny.

You both laid on the couch, watching a movie you picked, Jack’s hand absentmindedly rubbing up and down on your waist as you both watched. Both of you making comments occasionally, as it was a movie you had watched several times. Once the movie was over you turned towards Jack, cuddling into his chest.

“Want to go to bed?” Jack asked and you nodded. You knew you shouldn’t be doing any of this right now, you should talk to Jack about your feelings before you got hurt even more then you already would.

Jack sat up with you, turning off the tv before you both walked to Jack’s room, both of you getting ready for bed, Jack getting in bed first, then you, laying down half on the bed and half on top of him, burying your face into his neck, his arms wrapping around your waist, rubbing your lower back.

You laid like that for a few minutes before you pressed a kiss to Jack’s neck, kissing down to his collarbone.

“You know, I did have the intention of sleeping, but I don’t mind this either.” Jack said, pulling you gently on top of him, making you laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his lips. Jack deepened the kiss, grabbing at your hips, pulling you closer if that was even possible.

As you continued to kiss, Jack hands roamed your body, not settling on a place, while yours rested on his chest, occasionally moving lower and back up. You pulled away first to catch your breath.

“We don’t have to do anything if you want to sleep, I know your probably tired.” You said and Jack shook his head, his hands resting on your lower back.

“Now, I don’t think that’s what I said.” Jack teased, making you laugh softly before he reconnected your lips, both of your hands roaming each other’s bodies again, yours ending on Jack’s stomach underneath his shirt, his resting on your ass. Jack pulled away, his hands trailing up your sides as he pulled off your shirt, flipping you over, pulling his shirt off before attaching his lips to your jaw, leaving kisses in a line down your jaw and neck, all the way down to your chest.

One of Jack’s hands went to one of your boobs while he gave the other attention with his mouth. He continued that for a few minutes while you let out small moans, before switching. As some point you had reached one of your hands down to palm Jack through his sweatpants, leading him to let out small groans against your skin, occasionally pushing his hips into your hand.

Jack kissed all the way back up your chest, to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away, both of you pulling off the rest of your clothes. Jack climbing back over you, kissing all the way down your chest and your stomach before he pressed his tongue against your clit, making you let out a moan, one of your hands going to his hair. Jack continued to focus his tongue on your clit, while he thrusted his fingers into you. He continued until you came around his fingers, pulling them out of you, and removing his tongue from you before he held them up to your mouth so you could clean them.

“Your always so good for me.” Jack praised, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, kissing your lips again as he pushed himself into you, both of you letting out moans into each other’s mouths. Jack finding his pace quickly, one hand next to your head to hold himself up, while the other held your hips. You ached your back off the bed slightly, letting Jack slip his arm behind your back, holding your hips up slightly. Jack continued to thrust into you, and it didn’t take long until you came for the second time, Jack came shortly after you.

You and Jack were laying in bed, you had his shirt on, and he had put his sweatpants back on. Jack sighed softly, turning to his side so you were facing each other, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Are you mad at me?” Jack asked you, and you looked at him confused.

“Do you think we would have just done what we did if I was mad at you?” You asked Jack, and he shook his head.

“It’s not that, maybe you’re not mad, I don’t know, you just seemed off earlier.” Jack stated, you finally moving your eyes to meet his.

“I’m fine, I’m not mad at you.” In fact, that was the problem. “I just-“ You started before sighing. “I don’t know, I don’t really want to talk about it. Not right now at least.” You said, and Jack nodded.

“You just seemed fine with everyone else, I just thought maybe I did something to piss you off.” He did, but could you reasonably be pissed off at him for looking at other girls when you were sleeping with his best friend.

“I’m not mad at you.” You repeated. “Promise.”

“Does Urban know?” He asked, and you nodded.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay? Just don’t want to deal with it right now. Go to sleep.” You told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before laying your head on his chest. You were hoping Jack forgot about it by tomorrow, but you also knew him to well to know that he wouldn’t forget, he would be asking you about it as soon as you woke up.

“Okay. Goodnight.” Jack kissed the top of your head. “Love you.” Jack whispered.

“Goodnight. I love you too.” You said, sighing softly before you closed your eyes, cuddling into Jack’s side as you both fell asleep.

Jack left the topic alone longer than you thought he would, and part of you was hoping he forgot about it, but the realistic part of you knew that wasn’t the case. You and Jack were sitting on the couch, you were laying with your head in his lap, Jack running his hand through your hair, while you both made small talk.

“Do you have to go the studio today?” You asked Jack, looking up at him, he shook his head.

“No, not today, have the day off.” Jack said. “Speaking of the studio, do you want to tell me why you were upset yesterday?” Jack asked, maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the studio.

“Not really.” You muttered, sitting up and Jack’s hand fell from your hair to his lap. You both turned to face each other.

“You can tell me anything.” Jack told you, and you nodded, looking down at your hands for a minute before speaking.

“I think I’m in love with you Jack.” You said. “That’s not true, I know I’m in love with you.” Jack let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.

“That’s what you were so scared to tell me?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, because I don’t know if you feel the same way and no matter what someone’s going to get hurt, because Urban is in love with me. If you don’t feel the same way then I’m going to get hurt, but either way Urban gets hurt because I don’t feel the same way about him, and I don’t want to hurt Urban, so I don’t know what to do.” You said, your eyes tearing up as you talked. Jack sat silently for a moment.

“How long have you been in love with me?” Jack asked.

“Since high school.” You sighed. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and then we started this and I thought I would get over my crush on you, but it turns out that sleeping with someone isn’t the best way to get over your crush on them.” You said sarcastically. “I ended up falling more in love with you, but I didn’t think it was a big deal until Urban told me he was in love with me.” You explained and Jack nodded.

“And that’s why you were upset yesterday?” Jack asked, and you shook your head.

“No, I was upset, because the night at the club you had your arm around another girl and flirting with her, right after I left your side, I got jealous and upset. That’s why Urban took me home early. I didn’t want to watch you take another girl home. I know it happens, but it was different seeing it, I guess. I ended up crying to Urban that night, and he told me that he knew I am in love with you, because he’s in love with me.” You explained.

Even though Jack wasn’t in love with you right now, there was a part of him that did see the possibility of spending the rest of his life with you, he was just focused on his career now. Jacks silence was the only answer you needed for the confirmation that he didn’t love you back.

“You don’t feel the same way, do you?” You asked quietly and Jack sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

“I don’t, I’m sorry.” Jack sighed again. “I just can’t be focused on a relationship right now. It wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve someone who can dedicate their time to you, I just can’t do that right now. I think that one day it could work out, once my career calms down, I’m not spending every night at the studio, or out of town all the time. I mean it when I say I never want to spend a day without you, that I always want you with me, and that I can’t picture my life without you, and I don’t want to. I just don’t think it would work out right now.” Jack explained and you nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to feel the same way.” You said, “I think we should stop our friends with benefits relationship, at least for now.” Jack nodded in agreement.

“I think that’s the best thing for right now. You and Urban need to figure out your feelings, and we’ll go from there.” You nodded, wiping your tears again.

“I should probably go home.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Jack told you, reaching up to wipe underneath your eyes.

“I should. I don’t want to but I kind of just want to be alone for a little bit.” You said, and Jack nodded.

“I understand.” Jack smiled sadly at you. You stood up, grabbing your stuff before Jack stood up.

“Wait.” He said and you turned around, Jack held his arms out for you, and you smiled softly at him, walking into his arms as he wrapped them around you, you wrapping yours around his waist.

“I’m sorry.” Jack whispered. “Just because I’m not in love with you right now, you know I still love you right?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“I know. No matter what I’ll always love you too, even if I’m not in love with you anymore. You’ll always be my best friend. I never want to lose you.” You said.

“Never want to lose you either. I’m not going to let that happen.” Jack said, kissing the top of your head before you both pulled away from the hug.

“Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be there or make it happen somehow, you already know to text me when you get home.” Jack said and you nodded.

“I will, promise.” You wiped your tears one more time before you walked out of the apartment.

Seeing you cry broke his heart, but he wasn’t aware how much he was breaking yours. What hurt the most is that you gave him permission to break your heart. He didn’t do anything wrong, nothing that you could reasonably be mad at him for. Sure, he hurt your feelings, but he didn’t do it on purpose. He didn’t know you were in love with him, just like you didn’t know Urban was in love with you. You weren’t mad at him, but you wish you were, it might make things easier.

It hurt you even more knowing this is what you were putting Urban through. Morally you had Jack hadn’t done anything wrong, but it still hurt you and Urban emotionally.

As much as you didn’t want to leave, you knew that letting Jack comfort you would just make things worse. You didn’t want to lose your friendship with Jack, neither of you were going to let that happen, but you needed to distance yourself for the time being.

A couple hours later there was a knock on your door, you groaned as you stood up to answer it. You walked to the door and opened it, revealing Urban standing at your door, holding something behind your back.

“Hey, you okay?” Urban asked, stepping into your apartment.

“Do I look like it?” You asked, only half joking, you had been crying on and off since you got home.

“I think I know better than to answer that.” Urban joked back, making you laugh softly, Urban smiling softly to himself. You knew Urban could tell you weren’t okay by your eyes that were red from your crying and your tear-stained cheeks.

“Did Jack send you here?” You asked, you had texted Jack when you got home, but not since that, not even for your favorite ice cream he always got you when you were sad, but you weren’t going to ask Jack to do anything for you even though you promised you would. You both knew that.

“Yes and no. Yes, he wanted me to come check on you, but I was going to even if he didn’t.” Urban said. “Jack told me what happened.”

“Don’t really want to talk about it.” You said and Urban nodded.

“That’s not what I’m here for. I want to help keep your mind off of it.” Urban explained, reaching into the bag he brought, pulling out your favorite ice cream. “Jack told me to give this to you.” He explained, and you took it from him, you couldn’t help but smile softly, walking into the kitchen, grabbing 2 spoons before walking back to Urban.

“Want to eat it with me while we watch a movie?” You asked and Urban nodded, putting the bag down on your counter.

“Hope there’s room in your freezer, cause there’s 2 more things of ice cream in there.” Urban said and you rolled your eyes.

“Of course, he did.” You muttered under your breath, Urban laughing softly as you put them away.

“He just feels bad. He told me to tell you that one was for you being sad, one was an apology ice cream for making you cry, and one was for…. I can’t remember what the third one was for.” Urban said, making you laugh again.

“Well, I’ll tell him thank you next time I see him.” You said, walking over to the couch, Urban sitting next to you and you handed him a spoon. “You can pick the movie.” You told him.

You and Urban spent the rest of the night eating ice cream, watching movies, and you even ordered pizza at some point, figuring you should eat something other than just ice cream. It was nice because it kept you distracted from thinking about Jack. Not that you couldn’t think about him at all, but his rejection hurt, and it was nice to not think about it for a while.

Several movies later and you had fallen asleep with your head on Urban’s shoulder. Urban laid you down so your head was in his lap, playing with your hair while he finished watching the movie that was playing. Once the movie was over, Urban woke you up.

“Do you want to go to bed?” Urban asked you softly.

“So, you woke me up to ask me if I want to go to bed?” You teased but nodded anyway. “But the answer is yes.” Urban laughed softly.

“Do you want me to leave?” Urban asked you, you shook your head.

“Not really, but I feel bad asking you to stay.” You told him.

“Why?” Urban asked, looking down at you as your head rested on his hip, his fingers tracing random shapes underneath your collarbone as he talked.

“I just feel like we both need to figure out our feelings, and I don’t think we can do that if we keep doing this. I love you being here, you have made today so much better for me. It’s not fair to you though to expect you to be here for me like this. If you need space that’s okay.” You explained.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I’ll stay as long as you let me.” Urban told you. “What would be helpful is if you could be more annoying and not so adorable all the time.” Urban said, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“I’ll work on that.” You joked. “Let’s go to bed before I fall back asleep.” Urban nodded and you sat up, walking to your room, both of you getting ready for bed. You laying down first while Urban finished getting ready before laying next to you.

“Thank you for being here.” You said to Urban, both of you laying so you were facing each other.

“Always.” Urban smiled softly. Urban being with you was helping him figure out his feelings for you, but not in the way either of you were hoping. He was falling more in love with you. Maybe you were right though, if he distanced himself, even just a little bit, from you, he wouldn’t continue to fall in love with you, but he didn’t want to. Not right now. He wanted to be there for you, he knew what you were going through and how much it hurt, even though you were acting like you were fine.

Urban rubbed your back as you fell asleep again. Urban made himself stay awake until you fell asleep, but he fell asleep right after you did.

The next time you saw Jack was the day before you were supposed to fly out to California with Jack and Urban. You weren’t trying to avoid each other, your schedules just didn’t line up. Urban had been spending a lot more time at your apartment, almost all day when he wasn’t with Jack, and spending every night with you. Jack was spending one more day at the studio before he left. He wasn’t expecting you to show up, but he was hoping that you would every day.

Jack looked over when he heard you walk in, seeing you behind Urban, smiling once he saw you. He felt a sense of relief when he saw you. He had been worried the past several days that you hated him, and everyone could sense something was wrong with Jack, but no one asked him what was wrong, the only one who knew was Urban.

“Hey.” Jack stood up, walking over to you, and giving you a hug, which you returned.

“Hey.” You smiled, relaxing slightly into his hug.

“Can we talk?” Jack whispered pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be working though?” You asked and Jack shrugged.

“Yeah, but it will be quick.” Jack said, telling everyone he’d be back and leading you out of the room.

“How have you been?” Jack asked.

“I’m good. I’m not going to lie, the first day was tough, but I knew how you felt, so I should have been expecting it.” You said.

“It’s not your fault you know.” Jack said and you nodded.

“I know.” You looked at Jack “Thanks for the ice cream by the way.” You smiled softly and Jack looked at you confused.

“What ice cream?” Jack asked, now you were confused.

“The ice cream you had Urban bring me the day I left your apartment.” You clarified.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I didn’t buy you ice cream. Before Urban left, he asked me if there was anything I think you’d like him to bring, but I didn’t tell him to bring it.” Jack explained.

“Oh, Urban said it was from you.” The ice cream wasn’t from Jack, Urban just didn’t want you to know if was from him. He wanted to do something nice for you, but he didn’t want you to take it as him trying to get you to fall for him the day Jack rejected you. That’s why he couldn’t think of what the third ice cream was for, it was all a lie that he was trying to come up with on the spot. Urban just didn’t think you would ever find out.

“Well, it wasn’t from me.” Jack said. “I’ve thought you were pissed off at me the past couple days since I haven’t seen you”

“I meant it when I said I’d never be mad at you, just was busy.” You explained and Jack nodded.

“Are you still coming to California with us?” Jack asked. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but the invitation is still open, I’d love for you to come.” Jack said and you nodded.

“Yeah, I will, I was hoping the invitation was still open because I never thought about not going with you.” Jack nodded.

“Good.” Jack smiled, both of you walking back into the room. You sat down next to Urban who looked over at you.

“Everything good?” Urban asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You told Urban, and he nodded, resting his arm on the back of the chair you were sitting in, and you laid your head on his shoulder. You spent the rest of the day at the studio with Jack and Urban, splitting your attention between the two.

When you were all leaving Jack was trying to talk you into going back to there apartment. Jack was hugging you to say goodbye, arms around your shoulders and his chin rested on the top of your head.

“Come back with us. I missed having you around.” Jack told you, your arms wrapped around Jack’s waist.

“I can’t, have to pack.” You said. “You can come back to my place if you want. What time are we leaving tomorrow?” You asked, finally pulling away from the hug. Jack sighing softly as you did.

“Like 6am.” Jack said, and you looked at your phone for the time.

“Jack it’s 10pm. You should go home and sleep instead of hanging out with me.” You told him.

“But I missed you.” Jack argued, you loved how clingy Jack could get when you hadn’t seen each other in a few days, but it sure wasn’t making it easier for you to get over him.

“We’re going to be stuck on a plane together, in 8 hours, we can hang out then, I think you can manage 8 hours away from me.” You reassured.

“Fine, as long as you promise not to fall asleep on me.” Jack teased, knowing on most early morning flights you would fall asleep, especially since you still had to finish packing.

“I make no promises.” You said and Jack laughed. “If I do, we’ll hang out after we land, you don’t have anywhere to be after we land right?” You asked and Jack shook his head.

“Nope, I’m all yours.” Jack said.

“And who said I wanted that?” You joked.

“Well, if I recall a certain conversation we had…” Jack said and you hit his arm, half playfully, half to get him to stop talking.

“Jack.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. Jack laughing softly and wrapping his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me.” Jack apologized.

“No, it’s okay, I was kind of asking for that one.” You laughed, Jack smiled, happy that you weren’t upset over his joke. “I really need to go home.” You sighed softly and Jack pulled away from the hug. Both of you saying goodbye before both going back to your separate homes.

The whole weeklong trip, your time was spent between Urban and Jack, when you weren’t with one you were with the other. You had pulled away from Jack a little bit, not being of affectionate with him, but that’s how your friendship always was. The trip certainly didn’t help you or Urban figure out your feelings, but you didn’t expect it to happen immediately.

Over the next couple months, Urban fell even more in love with you, if that was even possible, and you finally fell out of love with Jack. It was harder than you expected, but Urban helped a lot. You and Urban never officially broke off your friends with benefits relationship, you still slept together sometimes, but you wanted Urban to be able to get over his feelings for you, just like you had your feelings for Jack.

You had started to notice more of the things Urban did for you that you always wanted Jack to do. Urban would buy you flowers occasionally, take you out on friend “dates” just the two of you, show up at your apartment with your favorite candy, staying up until the sun rose just so you could watch the sunrise together, because you liked to watch the sunrise but you didn’t like to get up early, and how he was able to hang out with you more without work getting in the way.

Urban never had the intention of doing any of those things to make you fall in love with him, he just liked to make you happy, but if a consequence of those actions made you fall in love with him, he wasn’t going to complain. He just didn’t want you to fall in love with him because Jack rejected you. Urban knew you were getting over your feelings for Jack, but he also knew how strong your feelings were in the first place.

You had picked Jack and Urban up from the airport earlier in the day, spending a couple hours with both, of them before Jack had decided to go home and go to sleep, leaving you and Urban alone. They had flown in late, so you decided you wanted to stay up and watch the sunrise before going to bed, Urban deciding to stay with you. You had been laying on your balcony, Urban laying his head on a random pillow, you using his arm that was around you as your pillow. You held Urban’s hand in yours, tracing random patterns with your other hand on the back of his hand. Both of you staring up at the sky, enough light out that you could see each other with no problem, but the sun wasn’t completely out.

“Do you remember the day you told me you loved me?” You asked Urban and he nodded even though you couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, I do. What about it?” Urban asked.

“You said how the moment you realized you had fallen in love with me was when I picked you up from the airport. I know it sounds cliché but today at the airport when I was picking you and Jack up, I realized that I think I’m in love with you. I felt the same way you said you felt that I don’t want to spend another day without you.” You said quietly, and Urban laid in silence for a moment, making you grow more nervous for his response. You thought he was still in love with you, but maybe you had read the signs wrong, and it was going to be a repeat of you telling Jack you loved him.

“I love you too.” Urban said, and you let out the breath you were holding. “Are you sure you’re in love with me though, or do you just love me because you can’t have Jack.” Urban asked and you looked over at him, while he stayed looking up at the sky.

“What do you mean?” You asked. “I don’t love Jack anymore.”

“You say that, but could you tell me with 100% confidence that if Jack told you he loved you right now, you wouldn’t be with him instead of me?” Urban asked, and you hesitated a little too long in your response, which gave Urban the answer he was looking for.

“I don’t expect you to be able to do that. You were in love with Jack for almost 7 years. It’s only been what? 3 months since you told him you loved him? I know you, and I know how in love you were with Jack. Over the past 3 months, I’ve only fallen more in love with you, and I know it’s going to hurt less if you end up with Jack without dating me. I don’t want to finally get my chance with you, just to lose you to my best friend. I can’t be the second choice.” Urban told you, still not looking over at you as you sat up, Urban sat up as well and finally looked over at you.

“Do you really think I would do that to you? That I would fall in love with you and then leave you for Jack? You’re not my second choice. The love that I wanted from Jack, was the love that you have been giving me. Something that I’m not sure Jack could ever give me. I’m not going to lie and say there isn’t a part of me that still loves Jack, but I’m not in love with him anymore. I love Jack as a best friend. I know 3 months seems like such a short period of time compared to 7 years, and it is, but it was a one-sided love. I knew that Jack probably didn’t love me like that, and yes it hurt to hear it confirmed, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you now.”

“I just can’t risk losing you once I have you. I can handle you being with Jack if that’s what makes you happy, but I don’t think I could handle you leaving me for him. I’m not saying you would, I just need you to sure that’s not going to happen. All I want is for you to be happy, and I’ve always put that before my own emotions, but this time I need to put my own happiness first.” Urban said and you nodded.

“I just want you to know that I would never do that to you. I know how bad that would hurt you, and I could never hurt you like that. I will always love Jack as a friend, but I promise I don’t love him like I love you anymore.” You said.

“I’m not saying no. You don’t understand how fucking bad I want to be with you. I’m just saying that I think we should take things slow, not rush into anything. Just in case. I just don’t want to be a second choice.” Urban leaned over to kiss your forehead as you nodded again.

“That’s fair, let’s take things slow.” You agreed and Urban smiled softly, holding his arms out for you so that you both could lay back down to finish watching the sunrise. While you laid in Urban’s arms you couldn’t help but let a couple tears fall, as much as you tried to hold them back, but luckily Urban never noticed.

Urban’s words hurt you more then you let on. The idea that he thought you would leave him for Jack hurt. You understood where he was coming from, and you were happy he was finally putting himself first, but it wasn’t the response you were expecting. When Jack rejected you, you were expecting it, and even though Urban didn’t reject you, it still felt like he did. You both laid there in silence as the sun continued to rise, Urban’s arm around you, his hand rubbing your arm.

Once the sun was up you both got up, walking back into your apartment as you yawned. Urban looked over at you, seeing your eyes were red from the previous tears. He couldn’t help but feel like they were because of him.

“Were you crying? Are you okay?” Urban asked, placing his finger underneath your chin to tilt your head up so you were looking at him.

“No, I’m fine.” You told him, breaking eye contact before Urban could read through you, unfortunately Urban knew you too well so it was too late. “Just tired. Let’s go to bed.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Urban asked, completely ignoring what you said because he knew it wasn’t the truth. You hesitated to answer, and Urban knew that meant he was right, and you didn’t want to tell him the truth, but you didn’t want to lie either.

“Baby.” He sighed softly, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” As soon as Urban hugged you, you started to cry again. Urban didn’t mean anything he said in an accusing way, but all he had known up to this point was sharing you with Jack. Urban kissed the top of your head repeatedly while he held you. After a few minutes you pulled away, wiping your eyes as you sighed.

“Let’s just go to bed.” You told Urban. “Are you staying over?” You asked.

“Okay, but we’ll talk about this later.” Urban said. “I’ll stay if you want me too.” You nodded.

“Of course, I do, I missed you.” You smiled softly, leading Urban to your room where you both fell asleep quickly.

Urban woke up before you did, holding you as you slept for a little while, before he had to leave, gently waking you up to tell you he was leaving, before kissing your forehead, and leaving, letting you fall back asleep. He didn’t want to leave, but he had plans he couldn’t cancel.

It was a couple hours later when Urban was texting you asking if he could come over, which you said yes, Urban showing up shortly after.

Urban knocked on the front door, you opened it and smiled softly at Urban.

“Hey.” You opened the door further for him to walk in.

“Hey, I got these for you.” Urban said, handing you some flowers he picked up on his way. You smiled and took them from him.

“Thank you, I love them, but you didn’t have to get me anything.” You told him, walking to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. Urban shrugged.

“I wanted to. I felt bad after what I said last night. I also got you ice cream because I felt bad about making you cry.” Urban said, pulling a bag out from behind his back.

“It is apology ice cream?” You asked, slightly teasing Urban, though he didn’t know that you knew he was the one to buy you ice cream last time.

“I mean, yes, it is.” Urban said.

“I know you were the one to buy me ice cream last time, not Jack.” You told him, and he looked at you confused.

“Why do you think that?” He asked.

“Jack told me. Well, he didn’t tell me you bought it, but he told me he didn’t buy it and that you asked if there was anything that he thought I would like, so I figured it out from there.” You explained, watching as Urban blushed, looking away from you to hide his face.

“You weren’t supposed to find that out.” Urban told you, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Well, I think its cute.” You told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to get with you already, I didn’t do it to flirt with you, I did it as a friend who was comforting another friend.” Urban explained.

“I know.” You sighed softly. “Like I know you were right last night. It was hard hearing it, but if the roles were reversed, and you were in love with someone for years, just to be in love with me a couple months after they rejected you, I would have had the same reaction, especially with how close Jack and I still are. I can’t be mad at you for not wanting to get hurt and finally putting yourself first.” You told Urban.

“I could have handled it differently. I just wasn’t expecting you to say you were in love with me. I guess it was just the situation where you’ve been wanting something for years, and when you finally get it, you panic because you’ve wanted it for so long, you’re afraid to lose it. I shouldn’t have pushed you away before I even had you. I know you’ll always love Jack in some capacity, I can’t expect you not to, and I still think it’s best if we don’t jump into things to fast.” Urban said and you nodded.

“I agree.” You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re still mine though. That doesn’t change.” Urban smiled softly.

“Always will be.” You reassured. Both of you leaning into press your lips together, deepening the kiss for a moment before you both pulled away. Urban pushed your hair out of your face while you unwrapped your arms from his neck, grabbing the ice cream that was still on the counter and 2 spoons.

“Let’s go watch a movie, we can continue this later.” Urban nodded, laughing softly, both of you walking into the living room, scrolling to find a movie to watch. “So do I get ice cream every time I cry?” You asked Urban, laughing softly. Urban laughed again and shrugged.

“If that’s what you want, then yes, as long as you share. I’ll get you whatever you want.” Urban told you.

“I was kidding Urb, but I’ll never deny ice cream, and I’ll always share with you.” You said, leaning into his side, one of his arms going around your shoulders. You settled on a movie, both eating the ice cream Urban brought you. Once you finished the ice cream you both ended up cuddled on the couch.

Over the next month, you and Urban got even closer, you were practically inseparable. Not that you were apart that often before, but your time used to be split more evenly between Urban and Jack. Neither of you ever told any of your friends about your relationship, it wasn’t official so there wasn’t really anything to tell. They could all tell something was different about your relationship though. They noticed how you were always touching in some way, which again, wasn’t that different from your relationship before, but it was different, you were always holding hands so you didn’t lose each other in a crowd, arms around each other, how you would lean into his side, and how you would lay your head on his arm. Basically, you were treating Urban how you used to treat Jack, except this time you were being treated the same way. Jack would even comment on it.

“So, when are you going to make things official?” Jack asked Urban, both of them standing in a corner at the small party you were all at, you were currently getting a drink, leaving the two alone.

“What do you mean?” Urban looked over at Jack, confused at Jack’s seemingly random comment.

“You know what I mean. She’s in love with you you know. She treats you like she used to treat me, you can just reciprocate that. You guys are good for each other.” Jack clarified.

“We’re taking things slow, don’t want to make a complicated situation even more complicated.” Urban told him, referring to your past feelings for Jack.

“I get that. I can tell she loves you though. I haven’t seen her this happy in a while.” Jack told Urban and you came back before Urban could respond.

It took another month for Urban to finally make things official. It had been hard for you two to get any time alone with all the traveling you had been doing. Urban had convinced you to join them on their Europe trip, not with the plans of making anything official, but just because he wanted you to be there with him. You had been walking along the beach with Urban and the group that was with you when somehow you two managed to sneak away without anyone noticing. Not that it was that hard, you two just slowed down and let the group go ahead of you.

As you walked next to Urban, holding his hand with your fingers intertwined you two were talking about anything that you could think of, mostly catching each other up on the short time you had been apart, as if you didn’t talk on the phone every night you were apart. Jack was the first one to notice you two missing, looking around before seeing you both who had stopped walking, you laughing at something Urban had said. Jack couldn’t help but smile at his two best friends. At the same time, Jack couldn’t help but be jealous that he was no longer the one who made you feel like that.

Urban smiled at you, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head before gently pulling you in front of him, resting his hands on your hips while your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. You two were truly in your own little world when you were together, not caring about anything but each other.

“I love you.” Urban smiled, leaning forward to kiss you, you kiss him back.

“I love you too.” You smiled back at Urban, kissing him again.

“I should have done this sooner, especially when we both know you’re already mine, but I want to make it official. I’m not going to make this long and sappy, we both know how I feel, and I’d rather show you how I feel then stand here and tell you, but as much as I should have done this months ago when you told me that you loved me, I’m glad we waited, I don’t regret it. I keep falling more and more in love with you. Will you officially be my girlfriend?” Urban asked you, and you nodded, smiling at him.

“Of course, I will. You already know that.” You smiled, gently pulling him down to kiss him once more, Urban deepened the kiss, his hand resting on your lower back to pull you closer. You both pulled away after a minute, but you leaned against Urban’s chest.

“You’re warm.” You said, and Urban laughed softly, rubbing your back softly. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you were leaning against his chest.

“Cold baby?” Urban asked and you nodded softly, Urban pulled away from you for a moment to take his jacket off, wrapping it around you. “Here.” He smiled softly.

“Are you not cold?” You asked him, pulling his jacket on. Urban shook his head, wrapping his arms around you again.

“No, I’m good. Plus, it just gives me another reason to be close to you.” Urban said and you teasingly rolled your eyes.

“You’re cheesy sometimes you know?” You said, tilting your head up to kiss his jaw softly.

“Only for you.” Urban smiled softly.

“Good, I don’t mind though.”

You both stayed in your own world for a few more minutes, before Urban finally looked over to see where your friends went, seeing them standing around waiting for you two, some of them watching you, others looking at their phones.

“We should probably go, I think they are waiting on us.” Urban said laughing softly as you looked over at your friends, you laughing softly as well. Both of you pulling away from each other, Urban reconnecting your hands as you walked back over to your friends.

“What took you so long?” Jack teased as you both made it back to the group.

“Urb asked me to be his girlfriend.” You answered, and your friends let out a chorus of “It was about time”, and “finally”, making you and Urban laugh.

“I’m happy for you guys.” Jack told you, smiling, but you could see that it wasn’t a genuine smile, but you just assumed he was tired and stressed about his shows coming up.

Several hours later you and Urban made it back to your hotel room, both of you laying in bed facing each other.

“So, now that your officially my girlfriend, does this mean you’ll come on every single trip with me?” Urban asked.

“You do know that I only haven’t gone on 3 trips with you in the past couple months, and the longest of those trips was 4 days?” You teased.

“I know.” Urban shrugged. “Still too long.” Urban said, turning to lay on his back, gently pulling you on top of him.

“I agree. I’ll come with you on every trip.” You reassured making Urban smile.

“Good.” Urban leaned forward to kiss you softly. It didn’t take long until your gentle kisses turned into a deeper kiss with your hands roaming each other’s bodies. You grinding your hips into Urban’s, causing Urban to let out groans into the kiss. Urban broke the kiss once to slip your shirt off, you took the opportunity to slip his off as well before Urban reconnected your lips.

While you were kissing, Urban took off your bra, his hands going to your boobs, his fingers brushing your nipples, his hands squeezing at your boobs occasionally as you let out moans. You reached down to unbutton Urban’s jeans, pulling them down as far as you could before he helped you pull off the rest of his clothes. While he was doing that you took off the rest of your clothes as well.

Once Urban laid back down, you got back on top of him, kissing his lips gently before crawling down, gently taking his tip in your mouth.

“Fuck.” Urban groaned, his hands going to your hair as you took more of him in your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. Urban used his hand that was in your hair to guide your head as you moved up and down, Urban occasionally thrusting his hips up into your mouth as he let out moans.

Urban gently pulled you off him and back up so he could kiss you again before flipping you over, kissing down your jaw, chest, and stomach before leaving scattered kisses on your thighs, before pressing his lips against your clit causing you to let out a moan. He licked at your clit for a few moments before pulling away and pressing his thumb against it and pushing his tongue inside of you. You pushed your hips up into him and he used his other hand to push them back down. He continued to thrust his tongue into you, slowly adding more pressure as he brushed his thumb on your clit. It didn’t take long until you were already close to your release.

“Fuck Urb I’m close.” You moaned out and he looked up at you and nodded gently, telling you it was okay to cum. Moments later you were letting out strings of curse words mixed with moans as you came around his tongue. Urban continued to thrust his tongue into you through your release before pulling away and kissing back up to your lips.

Urban grabbed one of your hands with his, pulling it up to kiss your knuckles before pinning it next to your head underneath his own hand.

“You ready baby?” Urban asked you and you nodded. It didn’t take long until he was thrusting into you. Both of you letting out moans as he did, you arched your back against the bed before Urban was flipping you over once more, so you were straddling him. You started to bounce your hips on top of his, one of Urban’s hands staying on your hips so he could gently guide them as he thrusted up into you, while the other let go of your hand to go to your boob, thumb brushing your nipple again.

Eventually both of Urban’s hands ended up on your hips, while yours were on his chest to steady yourself. Urban guiding your hips more as you got tired.

“Fuck I’m close again.” You moaned out, Urban moaning with you.

“Me too baby, so close.” Urban told you and within a couple more thrusts you both came, riding out your highs before you laid down next to urban, as he turned on his side to face you, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Your all mine, finally.” Urban smiled softly, but you both already knew that, he kissed your forehead as he pulled you into his chest.

“All yours, always.” You smiled and laid your head on his chest.

As your relationship with Urban continued to progress, you didn’t notice how Jack started to act different around you. He distanced himself, which was hard because Urban was always around Jack, which meant you were always around.

It wasn’t until one day the three of you were sitting around backstage at one of Jack’s shows, waiting for him to go on, that Jack realized why he was distancing himself. You sat in Urban’s lap, his arm around your waist. You couldn’t help but watch as Jack interacted with people, noticing how Jack didn’t seem like himself, even as it was only the three of you. Jack finally sat down on the other side of the room.

“You okay?” You asked Jack and he looked up at you.

“Hm, I’m fine.” Jack told you.

“Are you sure? You seem kinda off.” You said and Jack shook his head.

“I’m good, promise. Just tired.” Jack said and you nodded even though you didn’t believe him.

Later once Jack was on stage you were alone with Urban.

“Does Jack seem off to you? It’s not just me, right?” You asked and Urban nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. He won’t tell anyone what’s wrong. Just that he’s tired, but I think we both know him well enough to know it’s not just that.” Urban said, running his fingers through your hair.

“At least it’s not just me.” You sighed softly and leaned against Urban’s chest as he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you as you both watched Jack preform.

After Jack had finished his show, you decided to try to talk to him about what was wrong. You waited a little bit once everyone stopped swarming Jack to find him.

“Hey Jack, can we talk?” You asked, making him look over at you and nod.

“Yeah, of course is something wrong?” He asked and you didn’t answer.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” You told him and he nodded, following you into his dressing room which was currently empty. You both sat down on one of the couches, facing each other.

“Everyone knows you’re not just tired Jack.” You sighed softly. “I’ve known you too long to fall for that one. I’m sure you are tired, but I know that’s not the only thing bothering you. I know you don’t like to open up a lot, but I just want you to know you can tell me anything that’s bothering you.” You told Jack, usually he did tell you everything, so that’s why you were so concerned when he wasn’t.

“I really shouldn’t tell you this time trust me.” Jack said and you sighed again.

“Then tell Urban. We’re worried about you.” You told him.

“You really want me to tell Urban, the one who almost got us kicked out of a club because a guy looked at you to long then offered to buy you a drink, that I’m in love with you? I’m good, I think I’ll keep this one to myself.” Jack sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Jack was always the type of guy who wanted what he couldn’t have, but he wasn’t in love with you because you were dating Urban, he just realized his feelings a little to late. He realized he loved you a couple days before you and Urban made your relationship official. Maybe that’s why he noticed how happy Urban made you, just like Urban did when you were in love with Jack.

“Jack.” You sighed. “Urban’s your best friend. You don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to, but he’s not going to try to fight you or anything. Our whole situation was, or I guess still is, complicated. We started all of this at 19 without thinking that feelings would get involved, or that anyone would get hurt. Maybe that was stupid to think, but you can’t help what you feel.” You told jack and he sat back on the couch.

“I know, I just feel bad being in love with you because your happy with Urban. I don’t expect you to leave him for me, and I don’t want you too. I won’t act on my feelings or anything, not while your together, I couldn’t do that to either of you. I do really want you two to be happy together, it just hurts sometimes knowing Urban makes you as happy as I used to, but I didn’t realize it until it was to late.” Jack told you.

“I know how you feel, and Urban does too, I’m sure that’s how he felt when I was in love with you. He told me to be with you, he’s the one who got me to even tell you about my feelings for you. Like I said it’s a complicated situation, more complicated than any of us expected. I don’t think that Urban and I really thought about how you would feel if we got together. I mean I thought about it, but I didn’t think there was ever a chance you would fall in love with me so I just assumed you would be okay.” You said and leaned back just like Jack did before continuing.

“I know that one day you will find someone who you love, and who loves you back at the same time. I did really love you Jack, and I still do, just not in that way anymore. I know it hurts right now, loving someone who can’t love you back, but I also know that everything works out and one day you’ll be happier than you’ve ever been.” You told Jack and he nodded.

“Thank you, for not being mad at me or anything.” Jack said, smiling at you softly.

“I could never be mad at you. You’re still my best friend. If you ever want to talk, I’ll be there, promise. I also promise not to tell Urban, but I think you should, it might help. Especially when he’s been through the same exact thing.” You told him and Jack shrugged.

“Maybe, we’ll see.” Jack told you. “I’m sorry by the way.” You looked at Jack confused.

“Sorry for what?” You asked.

“For putting you through this, it sucks.” Jack said and you shook your head.

“No need to be sorry. Everything I said to you, is exactly what I experienced with Urban. I know it was easier for me because I already had Urban, but I know you’ll experience the same thing.” You told him.

“I mean it when I said I won’t act my feelings, I just want you to be happy and I’m glad you found someone who makes you as happy as you make them.” Jack told you and you nodded, smiling softly.

“I believe you Jack, I’m not doing that to Urban anyways, I couldn’t hurt him like that, and thank you.” You said. Holding your arms out to give Jack a hug, wrapping your arms around each other for a moment before you both pulled away.

“You can go, I’m sure Urban’s waiting for you. I’m going to stay here for a few minutes.” Jack said and you nodded.

“You sure? Do you want me to stay with you?” You asked and Jack shook his head.

“I’ll be fine, promise.” Jack told you and you nodded again.

“Let me know if you need anything.” You smiled at him softly before walking out of the room. Urban looking over when he heard the door open, smiling once he saw you walking towards him, his arm going around your waist out of habit.

“Is Jack okay?” He asked you and you nodded.

“He’ll be okay.” You told him, laying your head on his shoulder.

It took Jack a couple months to get over his feelings for you, but he eventually did, keeping himself busy with work. At first it hurt him to see you happy with Urban, but he eventually got to a point that it made him happy to see his two best friends so happy together. Sure, your relationship with the two wasn’t always the most normal for the first 5 years, but your relationship with Urban now couldn’t have been better. You were happy, and so were Jack and Urban.

For your official one-year anniversary Urban had surprised you by asking you to marry him and of course you said yes. It was simple, exactly how you both wanted it, Urban taking you to a park you all hung out in high school, and the same park that you met Urban for the first time. The proposal was similar to Urban asking you to be his girlfriend, Urban not wanting to make things too sappy and that he always thought it was more important to show you how he felt everyday rather than telling you on one night, not that he didn’t do both daily.

You and Urban went back to the apartment where you had moved in with them a while ago, it just made more sense than Urban moving into yours, theirs was bigger. Jack looked over when he heard the door being unlocked and opened.

“Hey. I think this is my cue to leave if I don’t want to hear you two all night.” Jack said, making you all laugh softly, Jack noticed the new ring on your finger quickly. “Wait. Did you propose?” He asked Urban and you both nodded.

“Yeah.” Urban said, kissing the top of your head.

“And I said yes.” You said, smiling.

“Of course you did you have the ring on.” Jack joked, “Why didn’t you tell me Urban?” Jack asked, feeling jealous, but not because of you this time. He felt jealous because his best friend didn’t tell him he was asking his other best friend to marry him. “I thought we told each other everything.”

“Didn’t want you to ruin the surprise.” Urban answered, making you laugh softly, because you knew Urban was right, there was a big chance he would have. Jack walked over to both of you and hugged you both.

“I’m really happy for you guys.” He said, but this time he meant it. He truly couldn’t be happier for either of you.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #urban wyatt #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt imagine

131 notes · View notes

alreadyblondenow · 4 years ago

Text

A not so Cinderella story

“I’m the only one in this room that knows you don’t have panties underneath this beautiful dress”

Pairing: football play! Jeno Lee x female cheerleader! reader

Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, enemies to lovers

WC: 4,507k

Warnings: mentions of food, as requested the reader here is a cheerleader so the character is fit. Please dont come at me. Public oral sex (female receiving) (inside school classroom), swearing, unprotected sex, mentions of rough sex, the sex was just inspired by Diggity Jeno hahaha, a lot of cliché moments here, mentions of bruises and dislocated bones (bc athletes) NOTHING DESCRIPTIVE IT WAS JUST MENTIONED

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD. I’ll fix it once I get my internet connection back. Part of Request Party. Also Jeno has been wrecking me lately.

—————

Peanut butter and jelly. That’s the perfect way to describe you and Lee Jeno.

The famous sandwich is known with its unbalancing tastes of flavors where the tastes of peanut butter and jam always fights in your mouth, but that’s what makes it so delicious. Something so unfit, unbalanced, contradicts, but still they’re better together. And just like the sandwich, you and Jeno are two different mixing flavors.

As the captain of the football team, and you as the captain of the squad, people around you expect that you ‘mix’ well with each other to the point that they expect you to be dating by this time.

“Nope. Not gonna happen. I hate him, he hates me. Let’s just accept that,” you whine to your friends as they ask you to take Jeno as your date for the dance this weekend. “It’s an exciting masquerade party, please let me enjoy my night without that dick ruining it,”

“And speaking of Jeno’s dick. Look at the size of that... Mmm,” one of your friends said and pointed to the side of the field where the football team are practicing and Lee Jeno’s shorts are just... so thin that his big dick is obvious.

“RIP to that pussy he’s fucking after dance...” another one comments.

“Okay, continue your drooling after practice. I need your full attention now. Let’s go! Move your asses!”

And just like that the captain in you is out in no time, earning respect from your friends and even impressing the guys from the football team. Of course everyone admired your leadership, skills and well... hot body. That’s why Jeno’s focus is nowhere to found the moment he heard you shouting from across the field and seeing your nice ass and-

“You can always say that you like her,” Jaemin disturbs Jeno’s thoughts with heavy breathing, sweating handsomely and waving at the students who calls him.

“Yeah, It’s not that simple,” Jeno said.

“Psh. Of course it is. HEY Y/N!!!! JENO SAYS YOU’RE SEXY!”

Jeno’s eyes went big and tried stopping Jaemin but its too late. You heard him already. Everyone, heard him.

“Stop staring at my ass Jeno, go back to practice” you said sternly and rolled your eyes at him. That was hot, Jeno thought.

You see, just like peanut butter and Jelly, you’re two different amazing beings. Each has unique personalities and charm, but you can’t see the good things in Jeno because you’re always blinded by his cocky attitude. But for Jeno, whenever you’re mad at him, annoyed to the core or whenever you talk back at him, he always finds it sexy. Until one day he fell for you, by just looking at you long and hard one perfect afternoon at the cafeteria while you’re busy reading something.

As the school dance commence and everyone had unique masks on their faces tonight, to be honest you quite enjoy it because somehow you feel invisible. You don’t feel popular and people are just so comfortable with talking to you, not knowing that you’re Y/n. And the only people who knew it was you was of course your friends, and you are having a great time.

“She’s the one wearing a white ball gown,” Jaemin whispers to Jeno under the loud party music and howling teenagers, “you owe me captain, it’s not that easy to make her friends talk,”

“Psh. Of course it is, you’re Na Jaemin,” Jeno pats his friend’s shoulder as a thanks and walked towards you with a smile in his face. Confident that you won’t shoo him away because you don’t know that he’s Jeno.

“Looks like I found my princess,” he said with all his might. Looking so handsome and perfect even with his mask on. You can’t help but accept the compliment and flirt back. So you turned towards him, flashing a big and excited smile and so thrilled that someone finally had the guts to call you princess.

“I thought you’d never show up! Now, dance with me!” you reached for his hand and the masked prince immediately twirled you.

Everything was suddenly beyond perfect that you felt like every second was a beautiful well written scene in a fairytale book.

It’s the way he holds you while dancing, telling you the right words that goes straight to your heart and immediately give you a smile. A kind of smile that only the right person can give you. But of course, you don’t know that yet.

As the night became even more perfect for the two of you, not knowing each other’s names just makes everything more thrilling and interesting but you promised to each other to stay true to each other when the clock strikes midnight and everyone has to take off their masks.

And to maximize the fun, you and Jeno ended up making out in one of the empty classrooms while everyone is busy dancing and enjoying the program. And by the way, it was a passionate kiss, not like those innocent kissing-a-stranger type of kiss that you see in movies. You both didn’t care at that moment whether you know each other or not.

“Fuck- I have to go back before midnight, I kind of... have an important duty during the event,” you said. Careful not to tell him that the captain of the cheerleading squad is needed to crown the voted prom queen.

“Understood,” Jeno says because he is the one crowning the voted prom king. “Does your lips always tastes sweet?” he asked with a very sexy tone, lifting you effortlessly with his incredible strength and making you sit on the desk. He reaches dow to your dress and went under it, completely startling you with the way he holds your thighs and kiss your knee, inner thighs, until he reaches your clothed pussy. Kissing the wet center and drownig with the feeling of his tongue shamelessly ruining your panties.

Bravely, Jeno removed your panties without breaking the soft kisses he’s giving you, putting your panties straight in his pocket for safe keeping and to make sure that you have no choice but to go back to him after midnight.

“Oh fuck-“ you moaned softly, covering your own mouth while the man in between your legs is giving you kitten licks on your pussy but intensifying everything when he spread your folds and focused on your clit. Licking it fast and kissing it like it it was your lips. It was unbearable, and this time two hands are covering your mouth to muffle you moans because you knew that what you’re doing right now can jeopardize your cheerleading career.

“Close- ooh, fuck. Right there please, faster. Ahh!”

You don’t know but Jeno is smiling right now, happy and contented that he get to do this with you. And in a matter of seconds, your legs are shaking and wanting to be closed so bad, but Jeno is giving you oral like he had never licked a pussy in a year and stopped your legs from closing to torture you further with his tongue.

Then suddenly, you heard your name being called and you made Jeno stop and quickly went down from the desks with weak legs, not having any other choice but to face everyone even after having a nice orgasm just a few minutes earlier.

You feel sorry for your prince of course because you literally kicked him and bolted away without any other words, not even a smile.

“Sorry I’m late, I was in the comfort room handling my tummy ache,” you cleared your throat and did what you had to do. A few minutes later, Jeno is now crowing the voted prom king and you didn’t bother looking at him because you knew he will look so handsome tonight. So you just stood there in the corner of the stage focusing on your weak legs, and feel Jeno stood beside you afterwards. Watching the the prom king and queen dance at the corner, both with tired smile and hearts yearning to be with each other again, suddenly Jeno spoke to you.

“I’m the only one in this room that knows you don’t have panties underneath this beautiful dress” he whispered beside you with a small smirk that only you can notice.

And the moment you lift your head to face him, you see you le prince.

Jeno is your prince. The prince who just gave you a mind blowing orgasm just a few minutes back.

“Lee Jeno- what the fuck. What have you done,” you said quietly, trying to control your reactions in front of the entire school.

“Date me and I’ll give it back to you”

“No thanks, you can keep it- just please dont tell anyone what happened to us.”

And just like that both of your happy endings are cancelled for the night. He felt broken, you felt guilty. But he can’t just finish this night without a fight.

“Fine. At least let me drive you home” he said bitterly.

“Fine”

The drive was quiet as expected. No one saw you get inside Jeno’s car, you made sure of it. To be honest you wanted to apologize to him for the kick earlier, but you figured it will make everything even more awkward. So forget it.

When he had finally pulled in front of your house, neither of you started moving as if you didn’t want this night to end badly than it already is.

“I had a great time...” you started, hoping that it’s okay to even say ‘thank you’

“Can’t you see that I’m trying my best here?” he said and it turned quiet again, “I like you Y/n,”

“Are you sure?” Are the only words that came out from you.

“A hundred percent sure. If you don’t let me date you even just for a short period of time to prove my feelings to you... I might cry while driving home,”

“And that’s fucking dangerous. Okay okay,” you were panicking at this moment “I accept your offer. Please, just drive safe. You’re making me nervous,”

Jeno smiled from ear to ear upon hearing your decision. Even though you didn’t actually accepted his offer because you wanted to date him too,it’s fine. Jeno is willing to work hard for you.

Day after day Jeno ask you if you’re free for the most awaited date but you try so hard to avoid him. It was not easy to hide your ‘relationship’ and to be honest it’s starting to annoy you.

One awful day after practice, it was the weekend and only the squad and the football team is in campus for practice. It was a tough and ugly day, so you decided to wait for everyone to finish showering before you start cleaning yourself.

The water was nice and the warm feeling of the showers just relaxes you to the max and enjoy the running water. You take this opportunity to sort out your thoughts...but someone disturbed your peace again.

You feel him hold you by the waist and encircle his arms around it, head rests by the crook of your neck and even by just feeling his embrace, you knew that Jeno is tired too. That he had a bad day too and you didn’t want to make things worst for the both of you.

“The door was open, I locked it for you” he said quietly. The tiredness was even obvious through the way he speaks.

And knowing that Jeno is using you to comfort himself, you just let him do what he wants as a way to give back to the comfort and company that he’s giving you now.

Wet kisses were place on your shoulder and neck, his strong arms kept you close to him until your ass is so close to his cock that it’s poking your ass cheeks but you just let it be. To be honest you love the feeling of what’s happening now, you feel so close to Jeno just like the night during the dance.

You turned around to face him, only to find his face full of dirt from practice, exhausted expression and silence. He was never silent when he’s around you, and that’s how you confirmed that it was indeed a bad day.

“Want to talk about it?” You offered and Jeno just rests his forehead on yours, letting the water run through your naked bodies. Hands all over each other, no funny business just providing comfort. You took initiative to clean his face with your soap and pour shampoo on his hair, washing it gently as he lets you do what you want.

And finally, you see a hint of smile from his face and you cant help but to smile back.

You didn’t do anything stupid in the showers with Jeno, you just literally had shower with him while he keeps you close but it felt that you did something so intimate together. Like a couple who passionately had sex in bed.

After cleaning yourselves Jeno reached for your towel and wrapped you nicely, looking at your boobs without feeling ashamed because you’re looking at his cock too. If it was a normal day, you’d have sex right then and there, but you both don’t want it as of the moment.

“Wait here don’t get dressed yet,” he said when you’re back in the locker rooms.

And when he came back still wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, he dropped on bended knee as if he’s going to propose. But instead of reaching for your hand he reached for your leg, and made you wear the underwear that he took from you during the dance. “I washed it myself,” he said and placed a quick soft kiss on your waist before he gets up.

It was a sweet gesture. Not normal, but it was sweet and you liked it. He got up, turned his back and left you to finish putting your clothes. You wonder if he’ll wait for you outside because truth be told you don’t want this to end yet.

After you finish drying your hair and making yourself decent again, hoping that someone is waiting for you outside already. You saw Jeno waiting for you outside the school beside his car, looking so handsome on fresh new clothes with the cutest smile. Of course he waited.

“How was your day?” he finally asked you.

“Bad,” you answered and took a big bite on your hotdog sandwich. “I pushed my team so hard today that everyone just hated me during practice,”

“Same thing happened to me, me and Haechan almost got into a fight in the middle of practice earlier. I guess this what happens when we don’t practice at the same place,” he joked but his intentions were cute. “I’m not sure if were going to win this season. If we don’t, I would have to wave goodbye to my dream college”

“Jeno, we’re aiming at the same college, and knowing what they look for an athlete, it’s impossible that you won’t get scouted. I mean, you’re the reason why we keep winning. College football is no joke, so hang in there just do your best”

“College cheerleading is no joke either, you have to get in for me. I’m not taking cheers from a stranger it had to be you,” he made you giggle and let out small laughs that echoes around his car. You just nod at him and wiped the ketchup from his lips.

“Thank you and I’m sorry I’m always an asshole when it comes to you,” you said perfectly ruining the mood but Jeno did not let that happen.

“And for someone who used to hate each other, we sure are better when we work together,” he said, leaning closer to you for a kiss that you didn’t avoid. “Watch me win you fair and square,”

You smiled at what he said and returned the kiss to shut him up. And the next thing you know, you’re making out with Lee Jeno in his car in the middle of an empty fast food parking lot.

“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, Jeno, and I want you to be the last.... I mean you’re the first sincere kiss-“

“I get it, I get it,” he said and continue kissing you again.

After that fateful day, you’ve been each other’s rocks and support system. Meeting under the bleachers, showering last so you could shower in peace together after every weekend practice, and have secret dates whenever you want to. It was a beautiful time even though you’re not yet officially together. And that proper date he was meaning to give you, finally happened and you feel bad for avoiding this amazing moment to happen.

“Okay, I think we should stop” Jeno cut the kiss when you’re both getting too carried away. Knowing that his parents are away and you have the house all for yourselves just makes everything even more dangerous now. But instead of stopping you pushed him on his bed and went on top of him. Putting both of your legs on each of his sides and earning a cute giggle from him. “Alright, if this is what you wanted”

Jeno then traded places with you, putting you beneath him effortlessly and kissing every exposed skin he sees while slowly lifting your shirt and unclasping your bra effortlessly. Cupping your boobs and kneading them gently while he makes you crazy with his touch and the way his tongue swipes on your lips and dominates the kiss with that powerful tongue.

When he removed his shirt, you expected to see a very hot body, a perfectly sculpted abs, and his strong arms. You were prepared to see that. What you didn’t expect to see were the scars and bruises he got from practice and from his past games.

“Hey, don’t mind the scars. They don’t hurt anymore,” he reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. Even though his body was all ruined like this, he looks so happy in life and this current moment. You then realized that Jeno is more than football and his cocky attitude. He’s a man who loves the game and is willing to do everything for his dream.

And that.... fucking turned you on that you attacked him with kisses and quickly removed your pants, Jeno did the same with quick movements until you’re both wearing only your underwear and ready to do it for the first time. He was the first one to remove his boxers briefs and thats the time when you remember how your friends drooled over Jeno’s big dick. It was true.

And that’s going inside you. Every inch of that veiny, thick cock of Jeno.

He removed your panties next, kissing your legs as he swiftly pull it down you thighs and expose your pussy to him. Whispering sweet words, comforting and filthy ones to balance this beautiful moment. You smiled when he pulled away from kissing you and finally lining his cock to your entrance.

Pumping his cock in between your opened legs and in front of your wet pussy, he started to tease you with the tip of his thick cock. Up and down, Jeno made you feel how raw he’s going to fuck you tonight. He started kissing and touching your body, slowly pushing in your tight hole and stealing your breath away, making you breath so heavily and grip his strong shoulders as he oh so slowly put his entire cock inside you.

“Does it feel nice?” You struggled talking but you managed to let out decent words. He nodded and rolled his hips, making you both moan and hold each other tightly. That’s how nice Jeno feels around you.

He gave you a few gentle thrust, stretching you good so won’t get hurt when he starts fucking you hard. You watch his cock go in and out of your pussy, and you can’t help but feel proud that it fits perfectly. “I love seeing your smile,” he said when he caught you smiling. He kisses the top of your breast, softly and just making you feel crazy with his soft lips around your nipples. Suck it good and twirling his hot tongue around it until your nipples are hard and swollen.

You didn’t notice that he has been fucking and giving you harder and faster thrust that his bed is starting to creak so bad and your bodies are slightly bouncing from the mattress. The pleasure was so nice especially its you that he’s fucking now, that his mind just went blank and started kissing your breast wildly which made you part your lips and furrow your brows. You then reached for him because you can’t take the pleasure anymore and made him kiss your lips instead.

But just as you thought that the he will go slow, no. When his chest hit your breast, and you’re now bodies to bodies that he’s putting his entire weight on top of you, Jeno became wild again and pinned your legs on the mattress and started fucking you hard.

Thrust and thrust you feel the impact on every inch of your body, and feeling the sting and hurt on your cunt as he continues to fuck you so good and the pleasure did not stopped from there. He lifted your left leg, using your flexibility wisely and placing your leg on his shoulders, earning a kiss on your leg when he saw that you got excited with the new position.

Jeno went back to fucking you again, putting his left thumb on your clit to draw small circles while his other hand is holding your leg safely as he fucks you good again.

“Jeno- ahh! Fuck, not on the pill” you informed him with heavy breaths and delicious groans. Gripping his sheets tightly as you slowly feel your orgasm build up and made your toes curl. Pushing Jeno away and closing your legs immediately so could curl in a ball and enjoy your orgasm. You didn’t noticed that he came on your body the moment he pulled out, painting your skin with his hot and thick cum.

Suddenly it was quiet and only your heavy breaths can be heard.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized immediately and placed soft kisses on your shoulders while you still curl and shiver.

“No it’s perfectly fine,” you reached to him for a kiss and then Jeno proceeded to cleaning up his mess. Kissing your sensitive body while he wipes it and putting you both in the mood again for a second round, but stopped yourselves and just enjoy the night while you talk naked in his bed.

“Can you please play more safely? I see you go to the nurse’s wing every after game, but I never understood why until now. I though it’s just simple bruises.... and not, dislocated bones and-“ He cut you off with a soft giggle and caught him blushing like crazy. Who is this man? Is this really Lee Jeno? “What?” You added.

“Nothing. You’re just so cute when you worry for me. I remember back then you told me you wish I break my ankles during one of our morning practice because we had the field that day first,”

“Yeah... I’m sorry about that. You’re just so, annoying sometimes and I just hate you so much,” you gave him a hug as a sorry for what you said back then, which he gladly accepted and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“How about now? Do you still hate me now?” He squeezed you butt cheek to remind you of what happened earlier and how you loved every second of it.

“I most definitely, still hate you Jeno Lee” but of course, Jeno did not buy it and started kissing you again. Touching all the right places and whispering the right words. Until you two fucked again that night and he had to drive you home a little later that usual. This was the first night that you realized, you never wanted to be apart from Jeno.

“Y/n,” he called you just before you enter your house. You turned around to face him and gave him a sweet smile.

“Jeno Lee?”

“I love you,”

“I love you too,”

And just like that he made your heart jump again without any warning. Leaving you safely and driving away from you with both happy hearts.

When Jeno’s most awaited game finally came, by this time around you’re both still seeing each other secretly.

“There’s my favorite cheerleader,” he grabs you by the waist and admire you in your cheer uniform. You rolled your eyes at him and raked his long hair away from his face. Reminding him to play safely tonight.

“Win for this pussy,” you said with a smirk. You haven’t had sex with Jeno for some time now because he was so focused with practice and you think, tonight is just perfect.

But the handsome guy has something more in mind, “uh uh, Im winning for something else, this game is big I need a motivation,”

“Well, name it lover boy and I’m happy to give it,”

“Your heart. If we win this game we will be officially together and of course, the sex is just a bonus. What do you say? My place?” he’s waiting for an answer that will give him the energy that he will need all throughout the game.

You kissed him on the lips and encircled your arms around him and said, “Deal” then placed another one, “Now go win because I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else”

“You just had to set the bar high right before a game, huh?” He smirked and asked for another kiss. Completely transferring your balm to his soft, addicting lips.

Of course you and Jeno were excited and all for the thrill that night. The game wasn’t easy to win, but he worked hard inside the field while you worked hard outside the field, making sure that the people will have faith to Jeno until the end of the game, win or lose.

And speaking of win or lose, of course you’ll still make him your boyfriend after tonight. You just couldn’t let his heart break two times in one night.

But no worries, because as you wave your pompoms and screamed for Jeno’s name to take the winning shot, everyone celebrated with you.

“THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!!!” You shamelessly shouted and came running towards to Jeno together with the others and Jeno caught you in his strong arms and lifted you off the ground. Kissing you in front of everyone which made their jaws drop.

That night, you have never been so flirty around Jeno, and he had never been this sweet to you. Maybe, you two were just holding it in and now that nothing is stopping you, you’re ready to love each other with everything you got.

2K notes · View notes

buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

Text

Young and Beautiful - Steve Rogers smut

The one where you were supposed to be a one-night stand, but Steve won't let that happen

Warnings: smut, and a little bit of angst.

A/N: this was our first ever patreon-voted fic, chosen for the month of May! My patreons at the $3 tier get to send me their ideas once a month and two of them end up being voted so I can write one of them each month. June’s fic is the one where Ransom needs to get a sugar mommy, and if you want to suggest a story for our July’s fic, please consider becoming a patreon! Thank you to my darling @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for reading this over for me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first time wasn’t a mistake, I could admit to that. Steve had been coming to the same bar where I worked for almost a year now. I knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew - he was hard to miss. But I think what he liked about our run-down place is that no one seemed to care about Captain America and the things he did when he didn’t have a bottle of beer in his hand.

Over here, he was just Steve. And Steve tipped well and drank a lot - I was sure he couldn’t get drunk, no matter how many beers I served him, but he never stopped asking me for more.

So, needless to say, he was adored. Adored by my boss, who was always around to keep watch of his customers and keep them in line. Adored by Luke, who guarded the entrance, for all the nights Steve helped him get rid of men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. And adored by all the waitresses, for precisely the same reason - and because I always shared my tips with all of them.

Even the kitchen staff adored Steve. Besides, it’s not like he was hard on the eye - all the girls (customers and staff) were constantly fawning over him, but he was nothing short of a gentleman, always.

Actually, he seemed to avoid the members of the opposite sex as best as he could, clearly not interested in whatever it was that they planned to possibly get to do with him. Well, except for me.

He never avoided me. I always figured it was because I was the guardian of the alcohol - we’d even joke about it sometimes, when he came to sit by the bar after politely declining someone’s advances.

“It’s just hard to understand how to date nowadays,” he commented one day after a pretty girl actually asked him out on a date right in front of me, but he refused. I shrugged as I wiped the counter, thinking if there was any advice I could give him.

“It really isn’t that hard. You go out to dinner, walk her home and when you step in front of her door, you ask her for some coffee. She’ll usually do it herself, but if you want to show your interest…” His frown was amusing, to say the least, but I held back my laughter so he wouldn’t be even more uncomfortable.

“A coffee?” Giggling, I nodded. “Before bed? But…”

“It’s a metaphor, Steve. A lady can’t very well invite you into her sheets, now can she?” He blushed three different shades of red when I winked, another giggle escaping. “I mean, she can, but we like to keep some things unsaid - innuendos can be very sexy.”

Two months had passed and if Steve made use of my lessons, I wouldn’t know. He never brought anyone to the bar and never left with any lady who approached him either.

“What can I get ya, Steve?” I’d always ask. I’d never once called him Cap or anything other than the name he used to introduce himself - even though I obviously knew who he was. He always took his time before answering my questions, even if they required a simple yes or no, which amused me to no end.

For a while, I actually believed a gun or one of the buildings the Hulk had undoubtedly thrown in his direction had left him with a difficulty of hearing. But then after my first question, he never seemed to have any problem understanding me at all.

“Just a beer,” he’d say, a small, soft smile as he tried not to stare too much at me, fingers tapping on the counter while I got his order. I appreciated his effort not to make me uncomfortable - I knew he’d seen how often men did that to me. I had no doubt that was why he only ever looked me in the eye from under those huge eyelashes of his.

“There you go.” Always the same routine, we never once deviated from it. Until one night when I was supposed to close the bar and he heard my boss instructing me to be careful.

“There’s been a lot of robberies this late at night. Make sure you lock everything up properly.” I saluted in jest, making the old man laugh and shake his head at me. “See you tomorrow, kid.”

There were only a handful of customers - Steve included, and he was the only one by the bar, so I threw him a quick smile as I wiped the glasses and started to clean the counter.

“Can I get you anything else?” I offered, but he only grimaced in response, leaving me confused. “Is there something wrong?” He stared directly at me without answering for a while before he was able to snap out of whatever it was that had frozen him.

“You’re supposed to leave by yourself at two in the morning?” I chuckled lightly at his concern, avoiding his gaze so he wouldn’t see how it warmed my heart that he’d be preoccupied over me, someone that was a little more than a stranger to him.

“It’s part of the job,” I reassured him. “Well, usually it’s part of Luke’s job. But whenever he has to leave early, it’s my duty to fill in for him.” He nodded, but didn’t make any movement towards leaving. Usually, he would be gone by now, but it wasn’t that extraordinary for him to stay until the hour I left.

This was the first time he stayed this long though, considering I wasn’t the one responsible for closing the bar and I only realized it when I looked around and noticed we were the last two people left in the room.

“Planning on drinking much more?” I joked, trying to gauge if he was going to be much longer, but he seemed startled by my question, looking around to verify the same thing I’d just noticed.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” I smiled, thankful that he was conscious and wouldn’t force me to stay even longer after my shift had finished. “I just figured I could walk you home. It is pretty late, after all.”

My heart warmed up at how sweet and thoughtful this man was. He had no reason to wait for me to finish my job just to walk me home, yet here he was. “Thank you, Steve,” I acknowledged, sending him a grateful grin. “Let me just check the bathrooms real quick. I’ll grab my purse and we can leave.”

He nodded, watching me do as I said and in no time at all we took off together in the direction of my apartment. I wasn’t worried about making small talk with him on the way there - I knew he was a good conversationalist from all the times he had stayed by the bar instead of taking his beer to a table, and I adored the stories he told of his missions just as much as I appreciated how he genuinely cared about what I had to say.

The walk to my place seemed shorter than ever before, and in a few minutes we were standing in front of my door as I searched for my keys in my bag.

“C-Can I…” He murmured as I looked for it, glancing up at him and smiling to signal he should continue even though I couldn’t give him my full attention at that moment. “Would you… Do you have some coffee?”

I was so shocked that my head whipped up to stare at him, eyes wide and unbelieving. Did Steve… Did he… Did he want to have sex with me? “I mean… in your apartment, do you have some coffee in your apartment?”

The thought was so extraordinary that the second I realized his intentions, a fire of desire warmed my lower belly, not because he was Captain America, but because he was an attractive and sweet guy that was way out of my league and I couldn’t believe he was into me.

He kept talking as I kept blinking at him, trying to process what was going on. “’Cause I’d really like to have some coffee… with you… If you want some too…”

His voice got smaller the longer it took for me to answer him, until it disappeared completely and he cleared his throat. “Nevermind.” He was about to turn around and make a run for it, I was sure, but I was able to grasp his wrist just in time, signalling him to stop because I had something to say.

“I would love to make you some coffee, Steve.”

So yeah, the first time wasn’t a mistake. He was way too fucking sweet and I got hot just by seeing how nervous he was to ask me for some “coffee”, incredulous that I was capable of affecting this giant man that much.

So as soon as we were in my apartment, I tied up my hair with the little hair tie I always kept on my wrist during work and got on my knees for him.

And I cherished every fucking second of it.

The way his mouth fell open in a gasp when I reached for his jeans, the little moans he let out as I licked his member… I couldn’t close my eyes, too transfixed by his expressions to miss anything.

The way he pulled me by my hair to devour my mouth, hands so eager to undress me that he ended up ripping my blouse, but it only made me giggle.

The way his groan sounded almost painful when he picked me up, shoved me against the door and penetrated me, filling me so beautifully I hit my head back against the wood and didn’t even notice it.

He got me to cum without almost no preparation, just from the thrill of it all, the stretch of his member inside of me. When I urged him to cum in my pussy, the look on his eyes was enough to get me to cum again, milking him dry as he emptied himself with a growl, forehead dropping against mine while he tried to catch his breath.

I was expecting him to leave immediately or maybe stay for an actual coffee. I wasn’t expecting him to pull out, drop to his knees and start lapping his cum from inside of me, eyes as focused on mine as I had been for him only minutes before.

Burying my fingers in his short locks, I tried to keep myself up despite the way my legs trembled, but Steve just adjusted them so they’d be over his shoulders and held me up with his face buried in me.

I had never cum so many times in a row. But then again, I had never had a man eat his own cum out of me.

I fully intended it to be a one time thing, and that was my plan. I thanked him for eating me out, made him some coffee, giggled at his stories about his friends and for a second it almost looked like we were back at the bar, only the counter was my kitchen table and I was allowed to sit on the other side.

He didn’t ask to stay the evening and I breathed a sigh of relief after I closed the door behind him, ignoring the slight empty feeling that momentarily hit me. This is what I wanted, I reminded myself, and by acting the way I expected him to, he had made it clear that he understood the rules of the dating world he claimed to know so little of.

This was a one time deal. Nothing more.

But then the first night we saw each other at the bar again, it was when he burst through the door to punch some guy who came in just as I was closing, trying to steal the money we had in the vault. I was so fucking relieved to see his face that all I could do was tremble in his arms after the police came to get the robber, and of course I couldn’t let him go after that.

He walked me home and I didn’t even ask anything, just stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips, using my grip on his shirt to pull him in as he helped me with my clothes.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” He moaned, and perhaps that should have been my first sign, the one that alerted me to stop what I was doing and not make this into a mistake I couldn’t take back.

He hadn’t talked the last time. He had never complimented me before.

“God, your ass…” He groaned as he palmed it, helping me over his lap when he took a seat on my couch, until I could fuse the both of us and ride us to hysteria.

But I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind because it felt so fucking good to be desired by him, to have him inside of me, cumming deep into my pussy only to eat it all out of me again.

It didn’t take long for me to learn about the errors of my way, though. In fact, it started the very next day, when he walked into the bar grinning from ear to ear and made a beeline in my direction.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and my eyes went wide as two saucers, especially when I saw him lean over the counter like he intended to peck my lips.

“Hello, Captain.” I quickly turned my back to him, facing the shelves of liquor to pretend that I was looking for something. My heart sank to my stomach as I took in what was happening, what I had just done in my effort to put some distance between us as if last night had never happened. “Can I get you anything?”

The time it took for him to answer almost had me looking at him from over my shoulder, but I restrained myself. “Yeah, you,” he finally said, and I breathed out in surprise. “Why are you acting this way?”

I panicked for a few seconds, reaching up for an already clean glass to attack it with my rag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried to reassure the both of us, still incapable of looking him in the eye.

But I could see his massive body by the end of the counter from the corner of my eyes, where he always sat, and I saw him tap the old battered wood with his fingers - fingers he had used to spread me open for his tongue to reach - as he thought.

I hoped he would let it go. I hoped he would not.

“Fine,” he relented, and I froze, uncertain of what he meant. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” My head snapped up just in time to watch him leave, and he didn’t even look over his shoulder.

I tried to tell myself it was for the best. He needed some time to get over whatever the hell it was that he thought he was feeling and tomorrow things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

He came back with flowers the next day, and I didn’t have any reasonable excuse not to accept it. He didn’t push for anything, just gave me the bouquet before asking for his usual drink. And then he proceeded to stay the entire evening right there, where he always sat, carefully watching my every move.

For the first time in a while, I broke two glasses in a single evening.

The day after that, he came with a box of chocolates. I couldn’t hide the smile because they were my favorite - I didn’t know how he knew it until he reminded me.

“You told me you liked them right when I started coming to this place.” His eyes were so heavy with a sad feeling that I couldn’t recognize that I had to avert my gaze. It messed with my heartbeat, it left my throat feeling dry.

“Thanks, Captain,” I softly acknowledged it, and I saw the way his grip on the box tightened. I saw it in the way it was slightly crumpled when I took it from his hands, but he didn’t say a word.

There was only so much that he could take, though. And I knew that. It didn’t help that my boss had caught onto his intentions and started to push me to go out on a date with him.

“Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance?” He’d incite, much to Steve’s utter glee.

“Yeah, Y/N. Why don’t you go out with me?” Steve urged, and although he never asked when my boss wasn’t around to initiate the teasing, I knew he wondered.

And the truth was that I wondered about it too. Because everything was screwed up now. When I gave him his beer and our fingers brushed, mine were left tingling. When I looked his way to find his gaze already on me, I shivered.

So yes, the second time was undeniably a mistake, but there wouldn’t be a third time. I’d make sure of it.

Steve’s P.O.V.

I was tired of waiting. I knew I had wanted her since the first time I laid my eyes on her, when I decided to stop at this rundown bar in the hopes of one night of crappy beer without being bothered by anyone asking for autographs or pictures.

I’d come here almost every night when I could escape the tower to watch her work, slowly getting her to warm up to me, and I fell for her personality in the process.

The way she clearly saw me as Steve, and not my title.

The way she always laughed at my stories and shared what had happened in the previous nights with the raucous customers.

The way she seemed to care about everyone and everything that came into contact with her.

So what started as desire became something deeper and for the first time since I was unfrozen, I found myself eager to understand what dating in this new century was like. I asked Sam for advice, and even Tony for any tips he could give me, but their general ideas didn’t matter to me when all I wanted was one single person.

Her.

So I asked her for her thoughts on the matter and was surprised with myself when I put them into practice. I was even more surprised when she accepted my advances and welcomed me into her embrace.

I was sure I’d never been happier than that evening.

But to have her pretend nothing had happened and even worse - treat me like a stranger after I had learned the taste of her skin? Nothing hurt deeper than that.

And still, I understood. I realized then that she hadn’t seen the situation the way that I had. She had thought all I wanted was a one-night deal - well, two-night deal - because I had never shown her anything to make her think differently.

So I set out to do just that. My way this time. And I was just about ready to ask her on a proper date when I was forced away for a whole damn month, having to resort to my hand and my memories of her body to get through the cold nights on the field.

The second I was back in the city, I only had one thing in mind. To get what I wanted, in whatever way she would let me.

“Can we talk?” My voice sounded clipped to my own ears, and maybe that’s why her mouth opened in surprise - or maybe it was seeing me at the bar so early, when there was barely anyone around, after being absent for so long.

“Sure,” she finally accepted, shrugging like it was no big deal, but I knew better than that. She might not know it, but I could read her perfectly, and I knew she was hiding her true feelings even to herself. I knew those feelings were deeper than she had ever felt. I knew they made her scared.

“Not here.” She stopped cleaning glasses then, frozen for a second before she looked around, taking in the fact that no one else was going to need her for a while. There was nowhere to run and maybe I was a jerk for doing this during her work hours, but I was a desperate jerk and I couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Okay.” She sounded small, and I knew what she was expecting to get out of this conversation. Closure, in one way or another. For me to finally let go of her. But I wouldn’t.

I wanted her too damn bad to let her escape like that.

“Go out with me.” I asked the second that the office door was closed behind us, and she immediately started shaking her head. “Yes, please,” I insisted. “Let me show you that I want more from you. I want so much more.”

“I can’t give you more,” was her answer, and she still avoided my eyes as she spoke. “One night, you even had two. That’s all I can give you. Please don’t ask me for anything more.”

“Why?” I asked, and the frustration in my voice was enough to get her to meet my eyes for the first time that evening. “Why are you trying to avoid this? I know you want me, Y/N. You wouldn’t have slept with me if you didn’t. So just tell me why.”

“I can’t,” she insisted, moving towards the door, but I grasped her hand to stop her before she could slip through it - much like she had done that first night, when I thought I’d screwed up any chance I had to ever be with her.

“Tell me why you’re holding yourself back from me,” I ordered, anger and desire creating an explosive cocktail inside of me, making my voice hoarse. I saw her shiver. I watched her break.

“Because it was too fucking good and I swear to God, if you get your mouth on me again, I’m gonna marry you.” Our expressions mirrored one another, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. She couldn’t believe she had let out her feelings like this. I couldn’t believe there was all there was to it.

I dropped to my knees before her.

“Come here.” I shoved her jeans all the way down to her ankles, sending the button flying somewhere. I couldn’t tell where and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to show her that there was nothing wrong with wanting this, with wanting me because as long as she allowed me to, I’d give anything to be with her.

My tongue was so hungry to taste her sweetness again. I licked a stripe between her lower lips before I could even get my hand there, spreading her with my fingers for easier access.

God, she was heavenly. I watched her let her head fall back against the door, much like the first time I was able to be in this position, and my heartbeat fluttered at the realization that this time, I was much closer to getting what I really wanted from her.

“I’ve been terrified of my own feelings for long enough,” I decided to confess, parting from her clit to be able to speak but slipping two digits inside her hole, filling her up, preparing her to welcome me. “I can wait for you to come to terms with yours. But I can’t keep myself away,” I warned, quickening my movements as I chased away the taste of her in my tongue. “So don’t ask that of me.”

Her moan had my eyes sparkling with excitement. I lowered my head to suck her button, see the way it made her thighs tremble on each side of my face.

“So fucking sexy,” I moaned against her cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Drench my face.” Her little cry of ecstasy denounced she was about to do just that, so I twirled my tongue around her clit, rubbing my digits against her sweet spot as her body tensed under my ministrations.

“There you go…” I whispered, fascinated with the way she looked after her release. It was like she glowed from the inside, muscles relaxing to accept my caresses when I finished cleaning her with my tongue and rose to my full height.

“Next time you try to pretend something between us didn’t happen, I’m gonna bend you over the counter and spank your ass in front of all of the other patrons,” I warned her before nibbling her earlobe. “Go out with me,” I tried again, and she took a deep breath before answering, looking up at me from under her eyelashes.

“Okay.”

#my fics #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #smut #patreon one-shot #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers reader inserts #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one-shot

576 notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 4 years ago

Text

Moving Antics (M)

A/N: This was requested a while ago and I hope you will enjoy it! I always welcome feedback of any kind! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation (a tiny bit), dom!bias, very lowkey roleplaying??, reader wears a maid outfit (not in a degrading way)

words: ~ 5.4 k

tag list: @mochi-ficz (let me know if you wanna be tagged when I post new fics!)

People had told you over and over. Moving is a stressful, exhausting process. It would take a while for you to settle in. Until everything had found its perfect place, weeks could pass. At least that’s what everybody said. What they all failed to understand, though, was that being in love could make the most tiring experience fun. Was it stressful? Sometimes. Exhausting? Why don’t you ask yourself that, when you fell into bed like a walking corpse at night? But all it took was a glimpse at your boyfriend as he carried inside the box that said ‘anniversary gifts’ and it was all worth it. You were confident in one thing at least. In the settling in department you were both ranking foremost.

You had lived in the apartment for only a week, and you couldn’t have been more all-over-each-other. Somehow there seemed to be an unspoken challenge you had both taken on. Maybe you two could set a record for most surfaces in a flat someone could have sex on. Or perhaps you should have started marking the rooms and spaces you hadn’t been able to add to your list yet. There wouldn’t have been many left. At the moment, there was only one downside to being so head-over-heels in love. A lot of the boxes in the apartment had been left unattended, as if you only waited long enough, the things would start flying out of the cartons and miraculously sort themselves out while you could stay there, in bed with your lover between your legs.

But this wasn’t Hogwarts and you weren’t some magician. And so one rainy Saturday noon you decided it would be thatday. The day you finally put away all the things that were still in the boxes. Not that the day had been successful so far. It was 12 pm and you were in bed. The shower was running in the bathroom next door, and you wondered how you would convince your boyfriend and yourself that getting things done would be a worthwhile pastime. Telling yourself you would come up with a tactic with your eyes closed, you tricked yourself into daydreaming for a little while longer, cuddled in the blankets that still smelled like him.

When you heard footsteps approach, your mind snapped back to reality. He strut through the door like a nude model, searching for some clothes to wear. His smirk when he saw you eye him was prominent and made your stomach flip. It took every last will of yours to not ask him to come back into bed with you, forget all your earlier plans and live like you were the last people on earth.

“Do you want breakfast?” he asked, finishing his outfit by pulling a shirt over his head. “I’ll make you some.”

You hummed, starry-eyed at his perfection. “Thank you,” you said. Quickly, he kissed your forehead and then walked off, presumably in the direction of the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, at the kitchen table, you finally brought up your wonderful idea.

“I think we really should unpack some more stuff today,” you said, “Don’t you think?”

“You’re right,” he said, “We’ve really been procrastinating.”

“You can say that again,” you laughed.

“Although I wouldn’t describe our scientific research of the last few days as completely pointless.”

“Our what?” you asked. You were getting up to put away the plates of your late breakfast.

“Us testing which room of the house is the most fun to have sex in,” he stated, matter of fact. “I vote for the bathroom.”

“You just love the mirrors,” you grinned, and he mirrored it.

“I do,” he said. His arms snuck around your waist from behind. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,” you said, “You know, there’s one room we haven’t tried yet.”

“The office,” he said. You turned your head and you kissed him deeply. In agreement you hummed, your arms wrapping around him. He pulled you closer, hands ghosting over the back of your thighs and up to your hips. You felt like jumping onto the counter and having him there, again, just like you had done it two days ago. But then you remembered you had other projects for the day. If you gave in to him now, you’d end up back in bed for the rest of the day, probably. Guilt was already setting in at the mere thought.

“Wait,” you pulled away and said, “We have things to get done.”

His nod was dilatory but then he seemed to recall his own determination from around two minutes ago. You wished you could have motivated him otherwise, but you were already struggling to spur on yourself to be productive. Then, you suddenly remembered something. Your eyes must have widened in surprise because he furrowed his brows at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Stay here,” you announced, “I’ll make sure we get through with this today.”

And you were off to your bedroom. You pulled the box out from the far back of your closet. Memories flashed your mind, of when you and your boyfriend had been watching a show together. One of the characters had been wearing a provocative maid outfit, and you still thought about the way he had grinned at it, or how he had said he found it cute, which you believed translated to sexy, but he had been a little shy back then.

Long story short you bought one. And what better occasion to put it to use than now? You went all out, stockings and heels as well as your attempt at fixing your hair quickly, which you knew didn’t really matter, since you would want it out of the way if you were really going to be emptying boxes. You strut down the hall, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The black and white costume just about covered your ass, and on your chest was a cutout in the shape of a cat’s head. The ruffles of the material bounced as you walked, excited to see your boyfriend’s reaction.

“Close your eyes!” you shouted. “No cheating!”

“I never cheat,” he said. You rolled your eyes, remembering his video game antics from the past.

“Before you say anything…this is supposed to be a motivation for us to empty the boxes. If we do that, we can have our reward,” you said.

“What reward?” he asked, eyes still shut.

“Open your eyes and you’ll know,” you said. Oh, how dearly you whished you could have captured his face on camera.

“Babe…,” he said. Then his mouth just stayed agape, as he ogled at you shamelessly. Just because he could. Because he was just thatlucky to have you.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Yes. Of course I do,” he said. His tone was emotionless because he was way too busy sorting out his own thoughts in his head. “But do you really think this is a good idea? How am I supposed to focus on anything but you?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you said. “Don’t you want to feel accomplished at the end of it all? If we don’t start working now, we’ll just end up feeling guilty. Again. Come on, let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said. “Let me have one kiss.”

You laughed and granted him that one wish. His lips lingered on yours for a while. You knew he didn’t want to pull away. Neither did you. But at last, he had enough control to remove himself from you. It was the office that still needed the most work to be done. Cardboard boxes were piled on top of each other, labelled with some sort of theme or room of belonging on the outside. When you looked his way, he was only eyeing your legs. But then you grabbed the closest box to you and handed it to your boyfriend, and he snapped out of his trance.

Believe it or not, there were up- and downsides to the maid costume in this situation. The pros included feeling unnecessarily sexy whilst doing an unbelievably humane task, not getting too warm since you were already wearing little clothing and having your boyfriend virtually drooling over your appearance. The downsides were mostly reduced to one word: heels. Climbing a ladder and balancing three boxes on top of each other in your arms was an arduous task to begin with. Now add the possibility of twisting your ankle on the top step of a ladder and crashing to the floor, probably breaking your back or worse. You really couldn’t endanger the prospect of the fun you were planning on having later by taking that risk.

That’s why you chose to abandon the heels somewhere on the floor about half an hour into the process. And you came to the conclusion that finally getting over and done with what you had been procrastinating for the last week wasn’t all that bad. You were a whirlwind, running from room to room to make sure everything had its place. At some point he had turned some music on, and it was making everything even better. After all this time, you finally had your own place to decorate however you desired. As you admired how nicely things were coming together, you hummed to yourself quietly.

You weren’t sure whether he was having as much fun as you were. Especially not when you walked past him in the doorframe, carrying four pillows. Your ass – maybe not all that accidentally – brushed against his front as you entered the room. Innocence and feigned ignorance were on your face but you noticed exactly the way his eyes dwelled on you for a little longer until he got back to work.

But everything you could do he could do just as well. Fifteen minutes later, you were occupied with stacking books onto a shelf. Wanting them to stand in a very specific order turned out to be more time-consuming than you had anticipated. You heard his steps behind you, assuming he was going to walk past you. Suddenly his lips brushed against your exposed neck.

“Remember this song?” he asked. You hadn’t been focused on the music for a while now, but of course you remembered. “Remember when I fucked you to the beat of this? Because I do.”

“Babe,” you said. There was a little part in your brain that had the glorious idea of him having you right there, against the bookshelf. You wouldn’t even need to remove your clothes. With him, it took nothing but a few magic words and you felt like giving him all of you. No. It’s not time for that yet. Your rationality vanquished that little avid thought and pushed it away, back into your unconscious where it had come from. It wasn’t gone yet, only not so urgent anymore.

“You’re right,” he said. “We’ll save that for later. Just wanted to remind you of how much of a good time we can have.”

You only shook your head and grinned as he walked off, pretending to be blissfully unbothered. What goes around, comes around, after all. And you deserved that for pushing up against him earlier. It took a minute and you got back to sorting your book titles. Time passed surprisingly fast when you were being productive. Box after box emptied itself, almost as if your wish for magic powers had become reality. But it was just two people, who were so excited about their reward that they forgot to even take a proper break in between the chaos. And soon you were down to the last cardboard box. It was full of decorations you didn’t need for the current season.

Just a few more climbs up and down the ladder to the very top of the closet and you were done. He stood next to the ladder, handing you the things so you didn’t have to go all the way down each time.

“Last one,” he said, giving you a box with holiday lights. Successfully, you placed it in its new spot. When you finally made eye contact with him, he was already staring at you like you were the only thing in the room worth looking at. To be fair, from where he stood, there wasn’t much left up to his imagination. With your stockings on display, his eyes could probably go all the way up to your garter belt.

“Is this angle too revealing?” you asked.

“Absolutely,” he said, making you laugh. Smirking, he took your hand as you stepped off the ladder. You stumbled into his body as you grinned at each other. You both had the same thing on your mind, without a doubt. It was like a little inside joke you had made up just now, making you flirt through looks and small touches. His hand rubbed the small of your back as he bent to your ear.

“My pretty maid, haven’t you worked enough for the day?” he asked. “All that teasing you did today must have been soexhausting.”

You nodded overly seriously, as if riling up your horny boyfriend was physically tiring work. “I hope I did a good job. Did I?”

“No one else could have done it better,” he said. “Now let me treat you, baby.”

You hummed with your mouth already too close to his to say anything. Then your lips finally crashed onto his. It was a little ridiculous how much you missed his touch after only hours of being without it. People had told you you’d get tired of being with each other all the time. But it had been years and you still wished you could have cuffed his wrist to yours because you loved him just that much.

Your tongues fought playfully as you pushed him against the closet front. Small noises came from both of your mouths, quietly agreeing that this was what you had been waiting for – more or less patiently. Your hands became busy with the buttons of his flannel. When you came across his bare skin underneath instead of a shirt, you smiled into the kiss. Every layer less to remove meant you were one step closer to what you wanted.

“We’ve never done it in here,” you muttered against his hungry lips. “That table looks nice, doesn’t it?”

He grinned. Your hands had already messed up his hair, but nothing came close to his dark eyes in moments like these. His look never failed to make your heart skip a beat while you wondered how you had ended up with the most handsome guy in the world.

“Will you think of us, if you ever sit there and work in the future?” he asked, leading you over to the office table. He dropped his flannel on the ground on the way.

“I always think about us,” you said. “But you can make sure this one stays especially prominent in my memory.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he said, and kissed you again. Your ass was backed against the edge of the table and one of his legs pushed between your thighs. It made you whimper quietly in anticipation. He touched the little part on your thighs that was bare, playing with your garters. With your eyes closed, his tongue on yours and his hands being so close but so far from where you needed him, your head spun with dizziness. He was like a drug, like alcohol dripping straight from his lips and the more you kissed him, the less control you had over yourself. His attention gave you loose lips and the impulse to be risky, all whilst feeling so high up in the clouds you weren’t sure you’d ever find your way back down. You hissed when he pressed his fingers against your underwear.

“You’ll keep the dress on,” he said. “Will you?”

“Of course,” you obliged. “If that’s what you want.”

“Good girl,” he said, and he pulled aside your panties to slide his finger over the slickness that had formed between your thighs. As if on command, your hips moved closer to his hand as you whimpered at the too gentle friction. All afternoon you had been thinking of his hands on you. When you had watched him peel away the tape from the boxes, when he was taking your hand to help you down from the ladder and when he had run his fingers through his hair absentmindedly – all you could think about was how much you wanted those hands to grab your hips and for him to have his way with you.

“Take these off,” he ordered. His stern but gentle voice turned your insides into mush. It made you behave almost like a robot, no ifs ands or buts. When you usually liked to tease him, you knew not to test your limits when he spoke in this tone. Your underwear dropped to the floor and you kicked it a few meters away. Again, his hands ghosted under your dress and found your center. You felt like your knees would buckle from the way he rubbed small circles on your clit. Moaning quietly, you wrapped your arms around his neck for support, leaning your forehead against his chest for a moment. You let out small huffs and whimpers against his skin and nuzzled especially close to him when he touched that one special spot for a few seconds.

“Look at me.” He watched intently as your eyelids fluttered like your eyes were going to roll to the back of your head. You tried your best.

“Put your hands on the table by your sides,” he said. You hummed in disapproval but didn’t dare say so. After all, he could have also told you to put them on your back. And holding on to a wooden edge was still better than not holding on to anything, when you felt like a child standing on its feet for the first time. When he hooked his free hand under your thigh, lifting up your leg a little, your grip on the table tightened. You swore under your breath when he plunged two of his fingers into you. He curled them, pushing hard against your sweet spot and you curled your back in response.

All day you had gone without any sort of attention, when your head had been so full of things you knew you could do with him. The most release you had gotten – which was basically no release at all – was from pushing your legs together tightly when the dirty thoughts had become too much for your brain to handle. You knew it was your own fault for setting yourself up with this challenge. But now with your chest heaving and your head feeling like a tsunami of emotions was raging inside of it, you didn’t regret it as much as you thought you would two hours ago. Maybe you should play this waiting game more often, instead of jumping onto each other any chance you got.

“You look so hot like this,” he said. At the sound of his voice your eyes opened. Those eyes. While they usually held loyalty and playfulness, they now only spoke of authority. He used his thumb to rub your clit whilst his fingers were still inside of you, making you feel like floating. You were his favorite sight, by far. Above all times he watched you, from waking up in the morning to falling asleep in his arms at night, right now was the most mesmerizing. Your parted lips were the entrance to heaven and the glow in your teary, desperate eyes was putting the evening sun to shame.

“I’m so close,” you moaned. Your chest was alternating between short puffs and not breathing at all. Maybe your brain was too focused on the bliss you were chasing to care about breathing for now. You couldn’t blame yourself.

“Don’t make a mess, baby,” he said.

“No, I won’t,” you said. “Can I touch you when I come, please?”

You gave him your most entreating eyes, knowing that even though he liked telling you what to do in the bedroom, not even the strictest boyfriend was immune to your puppy eyes. You suspected that if he had declined, you might have held on to him anyways. Too overpowering was the clamor inside your head that was telling you to be close to him.

“Only when you’re coming,” he said. “Not a second earlier.”

You nodded obediently as your eyes shut again. Good thing you were mere moments away from just that. His fingers moved quickly, now that he knew how close you were to your high. It robbed your breath all at once. And it did the job, after a short while. You whined and arched your back, your hands flinging around his shoulders. Your little noises came out muffled against his skin as you closed your legs around his hand. He barely moved his fingers anymore, but kept the pressure on your most sensitive spots, making sure you could relish in every last second of your orgasm. Only after a while your grip on him loosened, and you realized how your nails had been digging into his skin.

“Sorry,” you said, rubbing over the moon-shaped marks on his shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, baby,” he said. When he removed his hand, you shuddered one last time, but missed his touch already. His magic was always working on you. Even when he had just made you come, the mere sight of the bulge in his pants, ready to spring free, made you want to pull him right into your body again.

“You came so fast today,” he said. Softly, he kissed you, but you noticed the hint of hunger that he must had been feeling as you were coming down from your high.

“That’s what you do to me,” you admitted. “Do you think you’re the only one who felt tortured all day long? It was driving me crazy, too.”

“You seemed to have a lot of fun, messing with my head,” he said, smirking.

“You’ll find that it was worth it, after this,” you said. He raised his eyebrows in question. You were already stepping forward, dropping to your knees in front of him. Like a child on Christmas morning, his eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“Aren’t you the prettiest maid?” he asked, the question obviously rhetorical. To him, you were the prettiest person in the whole universe. You tugged on his pants and pulled them down, along with his underwear. Your mouth watered at the sight of his member, hard and red from all the waiting he’d had to endure. The way he looked at you from above made you feel small, but he stroked your hair out of your face gently and you knew this was exactly where you wanted to be right now, and any other day.

“Hands behind your back,” he said. You smiled and did as he said, holding your right wrist with your left hand on your back. He caught on to your reaction right away.

“You don’t even mind, right?” he said. You were already sitting straight, mouth open, your tongue protruding slightly. “You like it when I make it more difficult for you, don’t you?”

You only nodded and hummed a small yes, then he placed the tip of his dick on your tongue. At first, you only closed your mouth around it, not taking more of him. Your tongue licked over the swollen tip almost shyly. He groaned as he watched you test the waters. After all, he was the one who could control what you did to him. For now, however, he seemed to leave you your freedom to do what you felt like. You pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, licking over the tip ever so slowly. Then, you sunk your mouth further onto his length, taking as much as you could. It was so quiet you only noticed his uneven breathing as he eyed you from above.

“Shit, you’re so good for me,” he said. “Now stop with the teasing, will you? You know what happens if you don’t.”

You knew exactly. And so you shifted from your slow movements to quicker ones. You made sure to keep your tongue on him, especially when you moved your head away, swirling it around the tip now and then. His moans were music to your ears and only motivated you further. You had always loved his voice, when you sang to the song on the car radio or hummed his latest favorite song under the shower. But nothing compared to the way his voice sounded when you sucked him off. He seemed to be the most unrestrained then, not caring who heard him because he was way to obsessed with you sitting by his feet. The way he looked at you then made your stomach turn in pleasure. He didn’t even need to say anything or touch you. His overseeing eyes alone made you want him more than anything else.

His fingers in your hair curled, pushing your head further down on him. You focused on not gagging, your eyes closing. Tears brimmed behind your eyelids, but you were determined not to let them fall. Instead, you opened your lips a little wider and stuck your tongue out to make it easier for him to use your mouth however he desired.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, sighing in relief. You were awaiting treatment a lot rougher than the one he gave you, though. He thrusted into your mouth rather slowly, giving you enough of a break to remember to breathe. When you looked up at him with your sweetest eyes possible, his expression was a mix of strain and pleasure. You suspected he was trying not to overdo it just yet.

“Baby…can I fuck you or is that too much for you?” he asked. You perked up at his request. When you started humming around his length, he pulled away to let you speak.

“Please,” you said. “Fuck me. On the table.”

“Alright, my baby’s making the rules now, is she?” he said. “Come here.”

“I thought that’s where you wanted me to remember you, wasn’t it?” you asked, getting up.

“You’re right,” he said. You sat down on the edge of the office table with your legs parted for him to stand between them. Just once he kissed you. You wanted him to hurry, so you linked your heels behind his back, pulling him closer.

“Take me like a good girl.” He ran his cock over your slick folds, and he groaned when he felt your warmth on him. In response you nodded willingly, unable to wait a second more for him. Luckily, he didn’t plan on dragging out the anticipation any longer. With ease he slid into you, finding a familiar rhythm right away. As if you hadn’t just come ten minutes ago, you whimpered pathetically at the satisfaction. You leaned your weight onto your hands behind you, watching his cock enter you over and over. There was no limit to how many times you could have him inside of you. Every time it felt the same. Like he was completing you, all whilst simultaneously ruining you. His thrusts were sharp and as you raised your legs and changed the angle slightly, your eyes rolled back for a moment.

“Harder,” you asked, even though you were already overwhelmed.

“You want more?” he asked. You hummed a yes and nodded quickly. His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer to the edge of the table. He didn’t disappoint. He never did. Swiftly, he pushed your legs further open and pounded into you, making your body shake every time his hips slapped against yours. It drove you borderline mad. A part of your brain urged you to praise him, to let him know what he was doing to you. But then, those unspoken words between you were inconsequential. You didn’t need to tell him how good he was. He could read it in every part of your body. He saw it in the arch of your back, in your curled toes and in your lip that was captured between your teeth. He heard it in the way you moaned and said his name like he was your savior.

Plus, you would tell him all about it afterward. But that wasn’t what your mind was focused on momentarily. It was the way he hit your sweet spot every time and you could barely breathe normally amidst your whimpers. You hadn’t even introduced yourself to all your neighbors yet, but they most certainly had taken notice of your arrival in the new apartment.

“Can you use your hands for me?” he asked. “Show me touching yourself, baby.”

His words and the look of dominance in his eyes was all it took, and without second thought your hands went to your center. You sucked in a breath at the added pleasure. It was almost too much at first, but then you let it all in. Like a wave was crashing over you, your eyes closed, and you hummed from the intensity.

“That’s it. Make yourself come again,” he said. “You can do it again.”

“Yes,” you said, almost breathed with the weakest voice. Your body had other things to focus on at that moment, letting your vocal chords do whatever they felt like. You clenched your walls around him and the knot in your stomach tightened with every little circle you drew on your clit. His usually tender eyes were everything but that as he watched you revel in the pleasure.

“So fucking hot,” he groaned. You tried hard to uphold eye-contact through fluttering eyelids and furrowed brows. “Good girl, keep going. Tell me when you’re coming.”

You hummed a yes as one of his hands cupped the side of your neck, the other remaining on your hips so he could push your body against his own with every thrust. After all this time of being with him you knew what it meant when his moans became higher pitched and he seemed to not realize his mean grip on your skin – not that you minded. You loved seeing the marks he left on you, especially when you had nowhere to be the next days. It always made him hungry, when he saw the dark spots on your skin, like a fading memory of what you had done.

A curse fell from his perfect lips and his thrusts turned sloppy as he came inside of you. His face, all twisted in bliss and from exhaustion, was all you needed.

“Stay inside of me. Just for a little while, please,” you plead, fingers on your clit rubbing at the quickest speed you could muster. “I’ll come if you stay.”

“I’m right here,” he said, slowing his actions until he was just filling you up, but now moving anymore. “It’s okay. Come for me.”

Just having him there, stretching out your walls and making you feel so close to him was all you really needed. And his words of affirmation sent you over the edge in no time. It was a toe-curling, mind-bending surge that overcame you at your release. Stars danced delightfully behind your closed eyelids while you tried to process all of it. He gripped your hand that was touching your clit and pressed it down, urging you to go on for a little while longer. You whined in sensitivity, feeling like your legs would give in, even though you were already sitting down. For just another while, he dragged out your orgasm as you struggled to control your overwhelmed senses. He distracted you by bending forward and letting his lips graze yours.

“You did so good,” he said. “My pretty maid.”

You whimpered and then sighed when he finally lifted your hand away from between your legs. Only then you could scrape together some words.

“We both did good today,” you grinned. “And I mean not only the last half hour.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Tomorrow we could tackle those last boxes in the kitchen. What do you think?”

“Can the maid outfit make another appearance?” you asked.

“I was hoping it might,” he said, kissing you softly. Your tired limbs and mind welcomed his gentleness as your hands went to his hair. You could already guess how the next day would go, then. But truth be told, you didn’t mind it one bit.

598 notes · View notes

jkstompers · 4 years ago

Text

noise complaints | myg

pairing: min yoongi x female reader

summary: yoongi is tired of his loud, video game addicted roommate, so he decides to move out and get his own apartment for some peace and quiet. but with his luck, gets you as his neighbor: a girl who plays bass in a band and hates the feeling of earbuds in her ears.

word count: 5.8k

genre: neighbor!au, producer yoongi, bassist oc, pwp ( ；∀；) i tried but rlly it’s just... smut

warnings: mature!! (18+!), explicit language, smut, making out, fingering, dom!yoongi, he’s a little mean

author’s note: hi!!!!!! in honor of yoongi’s birthday, i wanted to post this fic that i had sitting in my drafts! i hope u enjoy!! (´⌣`ʃƪ) pls let me know what u think!

banner pic creds here <3

yoongi doesn’t know how to tell his roomate, mark, that his gaming obsession has driven him to take extreme measures that consist of: moving out. he never stops playing video games. all day, all night, his eyes are fixed on the computer or tv screen, always screaming to his team mates about where to go or who’s fucking up. yoongi’s not sure if he can take it anymore.

he’s finally saved up enough to move into an apartment of his own, he’s been planning this for almost 6 months; already visited the apartment complex, discussed prices, background checks, etc. all yoongi really needs to do is finish signing the papers and start moving in.

he decides to just let mark know, no sugarcoat. as yoongi expected, mark practically begs on his knees for him to stay. his parents are paying for his share of the apartment but only if he splits the cost with a roommate, but yoongi’s gone through two years of it already, he’s over it. over the next few days, mark watches yoongi dejectedly as he packs his things.

by the end of the week, yoongi has finished packing and already signed the lease. he tells mark ‘good luck’ and leaves him in the dust, hopefully he’ll find another roommate, but that’s beyond yoongi’s concern now. all he has to worry about now is unpacking his boxes in his brand new apartment.

he looks around at the empty space, with the boxes cornered in one section. he smiles to himself, no noisy roomates, no unwashed dishes, no dirty laundry, ah, finally. peace and qui—

and that’s when he hears the blare of your speakers, it’s not loud enough for the entire complex to hear, but the music obviously bleeds through the shared wall. yoongi groans, knowing that this could be a complete repeat of mark. he’s not sure if he should knock on your door and ask you to lower the music down, it’s only his first day here. don’t you treat your neighbors with respect? why are you so loud?

yoongi decides to ignore it for now. he unpacks his things and starts furnishing the room so he can have a place to sleep for the night. when everything is put together, he feels the weight of the day; how much he’s been lifting and how he’s now renting an apartment hits him all at once. the dull pain resonates in his arms, his head starting to ache, and you’re still playing your fucking music. he can’t take it anymore, especially not with this ache getting worse.

yoongi feels his fist knock angrily against your door three times, he waits for you to open the door. except, he was not expecting a pretty girl to answer, he was expecting maybe an obnoxious frat guy; he’s absolutely flustered. you stand there and look up at him confused, “hi? did you need something?” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“i’m— uh, i’m your neighbor, i’m sorry to disrupt, but if you could just lower your music down a bit, i’m really tired, and—” he starts but a gasp of excitement leaves you, cutting him off.

“my neighbor?! that apartment has been empty for so long! i’m so sorry, i was just so used to no one being able to hear! welcome! i’m ___!” you greet him cheerfully, taking his hands into yours and shaking them. yoongi feels his cheeks turn pink, your hands are soft and you’re so pretty.

“my name is yoongi,” he replies, he stands there not really knowing how to respond to the way you’re so excited. he wishes he could reciprocate but his head is pounding, all he wants to do is sleep.

you pick up on his energy, letting go of his hands to wave him off, “i’ll turn the music off for today, get some rest, yoongi, if you need help, some sugar or something, you can always just knock on my door,” you smile.

yoongi nods, “thank you, ___, goodnight.”

“goodnight, yoongi! nice meeting you,” you reply, closing your door. you blush behind the door, a neighbor? a cute one at that? there’s a sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins, testing you, telling you to blast your music just so he could come back and you could look at him one more time. but you decide it’s better not to, he said he was tired, maybe tomorrow.

yoongi returns to his apartment, thankful that you kept to your word and kept the music off. his body drifts his pounding head to sleep.

two weeks had gone by before yoongi’s eyes, he spent most of it buying furniture since the apartment looked so bare. one upside to a loft apartment was that he didn’t have to buy too much furniture, a bed, a couch, a tv, and maybe a rug was enough for him, for now of course.

in the time that’s passed, he’s learned that you like playing music when you’re studying, cleaning, when you’re doing anything really. whenever he thinks it’s too loud, he knocks through the wall, you get the hint most of the time. he’s also learned that you can play the bass and that you’re in a band. speaking of that, you’re having a meeting with them right now, and yoongi can hear every word of it.

your band mates decided to barge into your apartment today, waking you from your study nap and telling you that you all need to practice. the volume of their voices is jarring, you never realized how loud you and your surroundings were until yoongi moved in. you’re suddenly conscious about your volume at all times, his knocks whenever you were loud always made you feel terrible, but you couldn’t help but blush whenever you thought of him. you were torn, be loud and get his attention or be quiet and get on his good side.

“___! grab your shit and let’s go!” jungkook shouts. he’s the guitarist and lead singer of the band; he gets impatient sometimes.

“oh just let her daydream for a little bit, she’s probably thinking about her hot neighbor,” seulgi teases. she’s the drummer and your best friend. you don’t let her comment pass so easily, but you try to ignore the way your face heats up.

“you think he’s hot?” you quip back. a smirk on your face as you zip your bass into it’s case. yoongi is surprised at the way he can hear your voices so clearly, he wonders if you guys always talk this loud or if the walls are really that thin. “you haven’t even seen him yet,” you lug your bag over your shoulder.

“he sounds hot.” she shrugs, taking a bite of the apple she stole from your fruit basket. jungkook grows more and more antsy the longer you both talk.

“where’s taehyung anyway?” you ask. the realization comes to you when you feel a missing presence, knowing your 4th member would say something about yoongi.

“how nice of you to finally ask, he’s been waiting in the car for you slow pokes, let’s get going.” jungkook rushes, pushing you and seulgi out of the door. you turn to lock the door when you hear the door to your left slide open.

“oh my god, jungkook look, he’s hot.” seulgi smacks jungkook’s shoulder to make him look. your eyes are glued on the figure standing outside of apartment 77.

“hi— hey, yoongi,” you greet him while locking your door. it’s embarrassing the way the three of you are all almost drooling at the sight of him.

“hi, ___,” he sends a small smile to you, looking over to your bandmates hesitantly. yoongi notices jungkook, an assumption is made in his head almost immediately, boyfriend?

you scramble next to them and introduce them, “yoongi, these are my bandmates, seulgi, she plays the drums, and jungkook, he plays guitar and sings, there’s taehyung too, he plays guitar too but he— he’s um, in the car.”

“ah, nice to meet you.” he nods, greeting them as well. “i actually have to get to work, but it was cool meeting you all,” he excuses himself. you all wave to him.

“way to be fucking awkward guys,” you scold them when you’re all walking to the car. taehyung looks up from his phone to see the three of you walking his way, he starts the car once you open the door.

“hey, not our fault he’s good looking,” jungkook shrugs and seulgi holds her hand up for a high five, which he gladly gives her.

“not fair! you guys got to see ___’s hot neighbor while i was stuck in the car? i knew i should have just came in,” taehyung grumbles, pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“it just so happened that he was leaving his apartment the same time we were, maybe you’ll meet him too tae,” you rub his arm. a somewhat sarcastic tone in your voice. taehyung rolls his eyes, starting the drive to the studio.

the music in the car was overshadowed by taehyung and seulgi arguing about when you and yoongi would finally hook up. you had to remind them that he hasn’t even been here a month yet, and that you guys barely talk besides the small hellos and awkward run ins when you’re doing laundry. it seems to keep them quiet, taehyung parks in the lot and you all move into the studio, making your way to the practice room the owners thankfully let you use to rehearse.

a couple songs are played and you all vote for a break. taehyung and jungkook having a guitar battle, seulgi leaning back against the wall on her phone, and you, need to pee! you leave the room and use the bathroom as usual, but a familiar bleach blonde head turns the corner and starts to walk down the hallway towards you, the breath you’re holding turns into a gasp when you realize it’s him. “yoongi?! why are you here?”

he looks up from the ground, looking as surprised as you when he realizes you were talking to him, “i work here, why are you here? are you following me?” he grills, you scoff at the question.

“i’m with my band, we’re rehearsing,” you explain. he raises his eyebrows, you’re not sure what it means. “you don’t believe me?” you pose.

“it’s just a little suspicious,” he shrugs, yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing. he hopes his hint makes sense to you, he’s never really been good at flirting. a familiar feeling erupts in his stomach, one that people could call butterflies whenever he saw you. he really just wants to see you play, and to hear you sing, that’s what he wants the most.

“uh, i can bring you to them? i promise i’m here with my band,” you laugh, warmth spreading to your cheeks. there is no way in hell that you’re going to play in front of yoongi. you were confident sure, but your embarrassing crush on him will make your fingers shake when you try to press the strings down. it’ll be a shitshow!

“can i pee first?” his small laugh brings a smile to your face. boys pee fast, you’ve learned that over time, so yoongi doesn’t take long. you’re both walking back down the hallway, “your boyfriend isn’t angry that you’re with me?” the random question makes your steps stutter.

“i’m sorry, what? boyfriend?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare up at him, his face isn’t showing any sign of humor, he’s serious.

“you’re not dating one of your band mates? isn’t that how it usually goes?” his lips purse as you continue to walk to the room that your band is occupying, he’s so serious that it makes you laugh.

“oh my god, yoongi, i’m single as a pringle, they’re my best friends, our number one rule is to never date within the band, that’s how things get messy,” you explain. a weight is taken off of yoongi’s shoulders, it wasn’t his fault he thought of it; you’re beautiful and surrounded by people that probably want you as much as he does.

“oh,” he answers, you both turn the corner and approach the door, “good to know.” the door opens to your three members looking at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“oh my god, it’s him,” seulgi points to yoongi with her drumstick. you wave your hand to signal her to put it down, ‘it’s rude!’ you mouth.

“are you yoongi?” taehyung asks, taking his guitar and putting it down on it’s stand. yoongi nods, holding his hand out to shake taehyung’s, which he doesn’t take. instead taehyung pulls him into a hug, yoongi doesn’t expect the sudden action of affection, his arms not knowing what to do. “it’s so nice to finally meet you! ___ talks about you a lot,” taehyung’s confession makes your face flush.

“taehyung! what the fuck!? i’ve talked about you like twice, yoongi, i swear,” you defend yourself, pushing taehyung off of him. you laugh awkwardly, yoongi shoots you both a gummy smile.

“nice to meet you, taehyung,” he completely ignores your defense. he finds it cute, your flustered face as you try to tell taehyung to shut up.

“anyways,” you huff. “yoongi thinks i followed him here, so i am showing proof that i’m actually here with you guys and not stalking him.”

your friends snort at the same time, “actually, yoongi, we have no idea who this girl is! i think she’s following you,” taehyung whisper-shouts, you smack his shoulder.

“no but really, ___ we were just gonna call it a day, seulgi said she has to go to a family dinner soon and taehyung said he was hungry,” jungkook speaks up. it’s then that you realize that their instruments were almost all packed. yoongi looks down at you, a small smile on his face once he realizes what they’re trying to do.

“i leave to pee for five minutes and you guys hatch a plan to ditch me?!” you cross your arms over your chest.

“well… we just told you, so, technically we didn’t ditch you, also i can’t drop you off, yoongi, you can drop her off, right?” taehyung smiles to him.

“i—“ yoongi starts but you cut him off with plans to scold your members. they knew exactly what they were doing and you weren’t having it.

“taehyung, you’re dropping me off, let’s not bother yoongi,” you move to pack your bass but yoongi shakes his head.

“i can drop you off,” he smiles.

“oh, see! perfect! thank you, yoongi.” taehyung grabs his hand and gives him a good shake, before you know it your members are out the door.

you sigh as you lift your case and sling it over your shoulder, “it’s okay, yoongi, i can walk.”

he rolls his eyes, “don’t be ridiculous, are you hungry? we can eat first.”

his hand is outstretched and you’re not sure what it means, does he want to hold your hand? but no, he’s asking for your bass, so he can hold it instead of you. you reject his offer, “i can hold it.”

“you’re really stubborn,” he notes. it makes you snort.

“you’re not into stubborn girls?” the joke slips from your mouth before you can think.

this is the perfect time, yoongi thinks. “if it’s you, maybe i’ll make an exception.”

you try your best not to show any type of reaction, but you can’t really ignore the way your heartbeat quickened. yoongi leads you to his car, putting your bass in the trunk as you get comfortable in the front seat. he follows you soon enough and is driving out of the studio parking lot.

“you don’t have to work?” you question. getting into the car of someone you barely know is quite risky of you, but he was your neighbor, and he was hot. that doesn’t give you a reason to trust him, though for some reason, you think you can rely on yoongi, it’s a gut feeling.

“technically i work all day, i’m on my own schedule, i basically spend the entire day in the studio,” he explains. his focus is on the road but from his peripheral he can see your body turned to him, and your eyes glued on him.

“workaholic?” you guessed, he smiles.

“you could say that.”

“that’s good then, i’m giving you a reason for a break!” you clap, your nervousness fading as you start to get comfy with yoongi.

a friendship blooms from that lucky, odd encounter that day.

you forgot how long it’s been since you officially met yoongi and spent the day with him, maybe two months? three months ago? you never kept track. but you do remember that things changed after that. the two of you so obviously flirting with each other whenever you had the chance. yoongi would offer you a ride to the studio, which you greedily took whenever he asked; because he was a cool guy to be with, and in all honesty you were trying to put the moves on him. you’re not sure if he’s taking the hints though, you’ve never been good at the shy type of flirting, most of the time you’re upfront.

speaking of being upfront: yoongi hasn’t really been complaining about your noise lately, and it’s been eerily quiet on his end. no knocks on the wall when your volume was a tad bit higher than usual, no texts telling you to ‘be quiet’ when you were practicing late at night, nothing. you figure it’s because the two of you have grown a lot closer. hanging out together and even making some inside jokes together type of close.

it’s soon that you figure out why yoongi hasn’t been upfront, complaining to you about your noise, because he talked to your apartment manager about it. you knew namjoon well, he was one of your classmates in college. his father originally owned the place, so he’s been taking over for him. you’ve grown close to namjoon due to situations that left you outside of your apartment multiple times without your keys. his master key saved your ass one too many times. so, when you received a letter from him in the mail this morning with a big red ‘important’ stamp on it. you knew you were in trouble.

the words noise complaints, your neighbor, and eviction were the only ones you needed to read for you to be stomping towards yoongi’s apartment. you didn’t care that it was ten in the morning and you’re banging on yoongi’s door. you knocked nonstop until he opened up. his sleepy face scrunched in confusion as he stood before you.

“___? what’s wrong?” his morning voice could have made you melt, if you weren’t so fucking angry. you step past him, moving inside his apartment. “okay, come in, i guess,” yoongi says as he shuts the door behind you.

“you complained about me?! i got a fucking letter from namjoon! he never sends letters!” you raise your voice. it’s too early in the morning to be yelling, your voice is a bit rough, it sounds like you’re croaking.

it’s also way too early for yoongi to be dealing with this, so his voice is soft when he says, “be quiet, we’re gonna get complaints from the other neighbors now too.” he walks up to you and your very angry expression. he just looks so kissable right now, it’s making you angrier. how could he look so perfect when you’re mad at him? that’s so rude!

you lower your voice when you ask, complying to his demand. you cross your arms over your chest, “why would you do that?”

yoongi laughs.

it makes your eyebrows furrow. was he not taking you seriously? you loved this apartment, you needed to live here. it makes the anger boil a little hotter. “you think this is funny, yoongi? i’ve—” your voice is raising once more.

this time yoongi rolls his eyes. “shut up.” his voice grew deeper than it already was, the bass traveling straight to your lower belly.

you try to act as if it had no effect on you, but your small silence before you spoke made things a little obvious. “excuse me? shut up?” you scoff. your feet carrying you closer to yoongi, breaking the distance in effort to intimidate. yoongi wasn’t one to be scared, if anything, he found it funnier.

but the way that your pretty face looks when you’re angry makes yoongi want to do more, wants to push and push because he can feel the tension between you both. you can too. “yeah, you’re so goddamn loud all the time, shut the fuck up.” he moves a little closer, the distance between you both is almost none.

it makes your eyes flicker to his lips. here you were, thinking that you were gonna teach yoongi a lesson, yet you want to kiss him. “want me to shut up?” your eyes move back to his, making eye contact. he licks his lips in anticipation. “make me,” you press.

you feel his soft hand against your cheek first, leading you to his lips. then it was the plush of his lips against yours. this feeling could definitely make you shut up. before you knew it, you were pushing yoongi over to his couch. he breaks the kiss to plop down onto the couch, you follow suit, straddling his lap.

“if you wanted to make out with me, you could have just asked.” you spoke before reattaching your lips.

he smiles into the kiss, “where’s the fun in that?”

the kiss deepens, tongues exploring each other’s mouths and small whimpers escaping your throat. they go straight to yoongi’s groin, you can feel his hard cock against your core through your sweatpants. instinctively, you grind down, the feeling makes him groan out.

his large hands move to your ass, running over them and trailing up to your waist. his hands sliding under your shirt, you know you aren’t wearing a bra, and yoongi finds out soon after. his thumbs running right over your hard nipples, “eager?” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “i’m just cold.” the lie makes yoongi scoff, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index fingers. now, goosebumps raise over your skin, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“take your shirt off,” he speaks against your lips. usually, you weren’t one to follow orders, your rebellious spirit screaming in your head, telling you to take control. but you’ve never wanted anything more than to let yoongi have you, let him do whatever he wants to you. because outside of this, he just seems so nice, never mean, never demanding. you can’t help but indulge in this new side of yoongi you’ve discovered.

so you’re taking your shirt off, the breeze created by his air conditioner makes you shiver, but yoongi's warm hands are there to comfort you. running them over your breasts, squeezing them just right as he kisses down your throat. “y-yoongi—” you whimper. his lips find a certain spot that has you grinding harder onto his dick.

“you aren’t very patient,” he speaks against your skin. “i’ll let it slide this time.” a tender kiss to your neck is placed before he lingers on the spot a little longer, sucking and licking, making sure to leave a pretty red mark. he makes his way to your nipple, wrapping his mouth around the bud and sucking. the feeling makes you throw your head back, his hand tweaks your other nipple, refusing to neglect it.

it was true, you were not patient. you hated waiting too long for something, just like how you hate the feeling of your warm core go uncared for. the grinding wasn’t enough at this point, you wanted more, needed it really. “are you gonna fuck me or not?” you push him gently off of your nipple.

an almost annoyed gaze is painted on his face, “are you going to beg?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you weren’t one to plead, “no.”

“then no,” he asserts. you purse your lips, complete dissatisfaction displayed on your face. “don’t worry, kitten, i’ll make you feel good.” yoongi gives in. he didn’t know how long he could hold back, your attitude makes him want to check you, make you cum as many times he wants you to until you’re obeying.

the nickname makes you drip. he’s pushing up from below, his leg kneeling onto the couch as he lays you down. your head lays against the pillow he has on the couch, yoongi gives you a swift kiss before he moves down, trailing kisses on the valley of your breasts and your stomach, stopping just before the waistband of your sweatpants. “yoongi,” you mewl.

“hm? wanna beg now?” he challenges. his fingers teasingly slipping under the band. your body reacts so easily to his touch, your hips slightly jerking up at the graze of his hands.

but you’re stubborn, not wanting to let yoongi win even though the only thing you want right now is for him to make you feel good. “no, never.” you shake your head.

yoongi doesn't verbally reply, instead, nodding and smirking to himself. “can i eat you out then?” he asks. you don’t trust your words, so you nod, knowing you’ll fall into the trap yoongi has set. “i need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“yes,” you quickly say.

yoongi quirks a brow. “yes, what?”

you roll your eyes, just once, you tell yourself. “yes, please.”

“good girl,” he praises. you hate to admit that you liked the way he called you a good girl. your sweatpants and panties are pulled down at the same time, revealing your wet pussy. “so pretty, baby.” he positions himself between your spread legs. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

kisses against your thighs and pubic bone are what he starts off with, then a brief kiss to your clit that makes you gasp. “oh, god—” you lean your head back against the couch.

“also, just to let you know, the letter was a joke,” yoongi breathes. mouth ghosting your lips, where you need him the most.

at first you didn’t pay attention to what he said, a hum leaving your lips until then you realized, “what?!”

“i thought it’d be funny to scare you a little bit, namjoon and i are friends, i asked him if he could do it for me.” he explains with a smile on his face.

you rolled your eyes. you knew it was too serious to be namjoon, his style was more so speaking, not letters. you couldn’t be mad at him, at least you weren’t in trouble. but you play it up for the fun, “will you make it up to me?” a sly look on your face.

“what do you want?” he leans his head against your thigh, waiting patiently for your answer. his fingers ever so gently running up and down your thighs.

“your cock,” you demand with a mischievous smile. your hands run through his hair, eyes pleading because you won’t allow your mouth to let the words out.

yoongi acts like he thinks about it, but all he truly wants, is to devour your and make you feel so good. “you don’t deserve it.” he denies you of the pleasure you want, but he surprises you, running his tongue along your slit.

“oh— oh, yoongi,” you mewl. your hands moving to play with your boobs, but yoongi knocks your hands away. he directs them to his hair, telling you to pull. his hands replace yours, playing and tweaking with your nipples as his tongue does the work.

“taste so good, baby.” yoongi loves the sight of you so vulnerable in front of him. you’re bare, naked while yoongi still has all his clothes on. he loves it. your eager body twitching from the ministrations of his tongue. he pulls away for a second, “don’t cum until i say so.”

“that’s not— umph!” you start but yoongi retracts his hands from your breasts, bringing them back to your thighs to spread them further apart. your lips reveal your sweet spot for yoongi to take, and he’s relentless. the taste of you on his tongue drives him crazy. “that’s not fair,” you moan out.

yoongi doesn’t care. he loves being in control. so when your phone starts to ring, yoongi thinks this is the best time to assert dominance. “answer it,” he commands. he pulls away from your pussy, the loss of the feeling of his tongue makes you groan out in displeasure. in turn, yoongi rubs his middle and ring fingers against your clit. it makes you gasp. he slips the fingers in, your walls pulsating against his fingers. another moan leaves your lips. you were completely ignoring the rings coming from your phone. he repeats himself, “answer the phone, baby.”

“but,” you spoke. your worry being that you were so wound up and yoongi’s fingers were still residing inside of you. you knew it would be way too obvious.

“they won’t know,” he assures. a gentle touch against your thigh comforting you, making you believe this was a good idea.

your fucked out brain obliges, your hand moving to reach for your phone. jungkook’s contact name displayed on the screen, you press the green button and place the phone next to your ear. “jungkook? what’s up?” you answer. yoongi’s eyes locked onto yours as you speak.

“speaker,” he mouths. you nod, mindlessly obliging. taking the phone away from your ear and pressing the speaker button. his fingers dangerously still in your pussy, ready to cause chaos whenever he felt like it.

“dude! guess fucking what!” jungkook shouts over the phone. yoongi pushes deeper, bottoming out his fingers. it makes your eyes roll back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

you’re moving the phone away so he doesn’t hear it, but yoongi is pushing your hand back into position. “what?” you cough, trying to cover the noise.

“you okay? you sound… weird.” jungkook snorts over the phone, you can hear seulgi and taehyung in the back, their bickering all too familiar.

“i— i’m good.” you nod even though he can’t see you.

“okay, well, this guy from a record label called earlier, he said he wants to take us all out to eat and talk about our future!” jungkook informs. your eyes widen. a record deal?! even yoongi reacts, a cute, surprised look on his face. how funny was it that you were receiving this news with yoongi’s fingers fucking you.

“you’re lying.” you sit up a little bit, leaning onto your forearm. yoongi decides to be nice, letting his fingers stay stagnant in your hole so you can enjoy the news.

“i’m serious! we’re on the way to yours right now to pick you up, be ready in five minutes,” he tells you.

“right now?!” you exclaim. yoongi smirks, starting to pumping his fingers in and out of you, making your breaths a little more labored. “oh— fuck,” you groaned, you tried to cover it up by making it sound like you were annoyed. but anyone could be able to tell what you were doing, the squelch of your pussy loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear probably.

“what the hell are you—” jungkook starts but you cut him off, yoongi’s fingers moving faster and the string in your belly about to snap from the tension.

“okay, jungkook! bye! love you! see you in a bit!” you rush the words out and press the big red button to hang up, throwing your phone onto the floor as yoongi leans over you with a smile on his face.

“congratulations, baby.” he punctuates his sentence with a quick circle around your clit. you’re so wound up, you could feel tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“yoongi, please, please let me cum.” you beg, giving in to his desires. the sound of your begging is music to his ears. he smirks, quickening the tight circles around your clit. your legs spreading wider if that was even possible.

yoongi’s plans were cut short due to your new plans, but he didn’t mind. he was happy for you, and he’s never wanted to make someone cum as much as he does now. “alright, kitten, cum whenever you want,” he whispers in your ear. his fingers coated in your wetness gliding against your clit, it feels way too good. the string in your belly snapping as soon as he gave you permission.

you found yourself letting out some of the loudest moans because yoongi was just that good. “holy fuck, yoongi,” you gasp. your chest rises and falls quickly, taking in as many breaths as possible.

“good job, baby.” he kisses your neck, letting you recover before slipping his fingers out and bringing them up to your lips. at first you furrow your eyebrows, this isn’t something you usually do; but when he says, “open,” you find yourself obliging easily. “good girl,” he smiles as you suck your cum off of his fingers.

you pull his fingers from your mouth when you’re sure you’ve sucked them clean, “i got a record deal dinner, min!” you rush to put your clothes on. yoongi tries his best to help, but all he wants to do is give you a big hug. he lets you put your clothes on before he’s holding you in his grasp, while you’re trying to make your way to his door. the two of you wobbling to his door.

“let me kiss you first, rockstar.” he smiles, his hand gently taking ahold of your face and giving you a kiss. it tastes just like you, the sultry memory that will live in yoongi’s brain for as long as it’s able.

he tries to kiss you once more, but you’re pushing him away. “i gotta go, yoongi,” you giggle. his hands holding you close to him, your back pressed against his front door as you kiss each other sloppily. “yoongi!” you smile, more laughs erupting as he helps you open the door. as soon as the door slides open, yoongi’s eyes move behind you, a sly smile on his face.

you turn to see your three band mates, all of their mouths agape. “i fucking told you! pay up, idiots!” seulgi smacks the both taehyung and jungkook’s shoulders.

your face blushes tomato red. you try to hide your face as you open your apartment door. before you turn the key, you hear yoongi congratulate the four of you. “good luck at your label meeting! make sure they don’t scam you,” he advises. your bandmates laugh, thanking yoongi and moving into your apartment. they don’t let you live down the embarrassment for the entire night.

when you come back home, you sit on your couch. a smile taking over your face when you think about how great the day was. you think the dinner went perfect, and when you hear a knock on your door, it has you rushing to open it.

yoongi stands outside your door with a cupcake and a single lit candle stuck in it. “congratulations!— it went well right?”

you stand in front of him, a sweet smile on your face as you nod. “i think they loved us,” you pull him into your apartment.

“of course they did! you guys are amazing!” yoongi hugs you, holding the cupcake above your head so it doesn’t get in your hair.

the rest of the night you and yoongi enjoy each other’s presence and the two of you talk about everything and nothing.

yoongi says the cupcake is just for you, but you take a knife and split it, “for us.” you give him a quick peck before eating your half, and then kissing him once more.

for us. it repeats in yoongi’s mind.

us.

yeah, he’d like that.

544 notes · View notes