#me talking about how much i hate writing? it's happened before

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[purple-babygirl]

I've been feeling hella insecure ever since I found out I was pregnant. My babydaddy is supportive BUT how would Bucky help his girl feel better? Ya know with all the acne popping out of nowhere and her body getting bigger (stretch fucking marks) and I know I'm just a few months away from not being able to shave so maybe throw that in there too please. Doesn't have to be a real fic just headcannons would help really. Love you from Canada ❤️❤️

unconditionally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader Word count: 2,670 Warnings: insecurities, low self-esteem, intrusive thoughts, body image, 18+ Content: mentions of fingering, a bit of dirty talk A/N: this is probably the first time I ever get an ask and want to make sure to write a reply on the very same day. congratulations on your baby, dear nonnie💜💜 I hope you have a safe pregnancy and an easy delivery, super proud of you over here💜💜💜 please forgive me if this seems rushed, I, too, feel I've gotten a bit rusty but I'm still hoping that you wouldn't completely hate this💜please excuse me while I combine a bit of another ask with yours. thank you so much for sending this ask and sharing such sweet news with me. Much love right back to you, maple syrup nonnie💜💜💜💜💜💜

~

Scars

All it took was Bucky trying to kiss the back of her hand on their second date and the slight flinch of her digits let him know something wasn’t right. At first, he thought he made her uncomfortable, so he gave her her space for the rest of the night. However, she kissed him first when he was walking her up to her door that night, so he told himself he might have imagined it all.

Then it happened again on their 4th date. They were at the movies and Bucky’s hand held hers, his thumb caressing the back of it. When his thumb brushed a particular spot, the slight flinch was back. Bucky made sure to ask if she was okay this time and she reassured him that she was. He could tell that her body gave the same tense reaction every time his thumb brushed against a specific spot on the back of her hand though, which was a scar.

She had a small scar on the bottom of her forefinger that she would mostly cover with rings. Tonight, however, she wasn’t wearing any, which led to direct contact between Bucky’s thumb and the scarred area.

Bucky told himself he was reading way too much into the situation, that it probably wasn’t that. The scar itself was very small, barely noticeable.

But his previous doubts were brought back and confirmed on their 6th date. It was the first time she let him come in after a date and the first time they were going to have sex since they started dating.

Bucky has unzipped her dress and was ready to push it down her shoulders when she held it to her chest as asked if the lights could be turned off.

“Why, doll?” He frowns despite himself, his brain not understanding why she would ever want to hide behind the curtain of darkness.

“It’s nothing... I’m just used to it.” She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant.

“You know by now that I can tell when you’re lying, doll.” Bucky smiles gently.

He didn’t know, but his tender smile made her want to cry.

“I— I have a scar on my tummy.”

Her voice is so small when she utters the words that it had Bucky’s heart dropping.

It must’ve been clear on his face that he feared the worst because she quickly continues, “no one hurt me, it’s just from a small surgery I had when I was a kid. But the scar is.. ya know.. still kinda.. there.”

Her arms involuntarily hugged the dress tighter to her chest and waist as she explained.

“Doll, you realize I practically have no left arm, right?”

She chuckles softly before looking up at him, “that’s different, Buck. You’re beautiful.”

“So are you!”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I mean, I can always get a tattoo or two drawn on the scars. Someone had suggested that to me before..” Her thumb caresses her scarred forefinger.

And it clicked in Bucky’s head.

Another person had made her feel this way about her scars. Some idiot had previously told her to ‘cover up’ her scars, get them tattooed over, made her feel like she wasn’t something to look at while the lights were still on.

Bucky was seething to say the least, but he couldn’t let his anger make him lose sight of what was important and what this whole thing was about. Her.

She needed to understand that she wasn’t anything short of art, a vision, a sight that could get him on his knees in a second.

“Doll, you have nothing to hide. Whatever is underneath your dress, I know it will blow my mind. I’m already hard for you, baby, I don’t care.”

She blushes, smiling up at him shyly, her eyes still unsure.

“Please, believe me.” Bucky’s hand cups her cheek as he kisses her forehead then her nose and finally her lips.

“You show me yours if I show you mine?” He whispers against her lips.

She nodded, her heart fluttering at the gesture.

Without hesitation, Bucky pulls away and takes his jacket off, pulling his t-shirt over his head next.

He stood before her in all of his glory, showing the scars on his chest, even turning around for her to see the ones on his back before facing her again and bringing her smaller hand to his left shoulder. The ugliest part of him from his point of view.

His eyes close as she tentatively touches him.

She knew it wasn’t easy for Bucky to show her himself like that. Her fingertips tracing, soothing, his scar tissue was the most intimate he has ever let anybody get with him in decades.

Her eyes tear up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest: love, compassion, gratitude, trust.

Bucky opened his eyes when she removed her touch, only to be met with the sight of her letting her dress fall around her body to pool by her feet.

She stepped out of it, showing Bucky the horizontal scar across her belly.

Without a second thought, Bucky gets on his knees before her, his lips ever so softly brushing her skin.

She closed her eyes, a tear or two escaping her eyes at the closeness of the moment.

She doesn’t remember ever feeling so safe, so accepted.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on and I’m a hundred years old, baby.” Bucky whispers on her skin, the vibrations tickling her as a smile finds its way to her lips.

Acne

When it is a particularly bad breakout she would lean away further, try not to let her cheeks touch Bucky’s because she has this weird belief that she might ‘give it to him’ even though he has reassured her multiple times before that he was a super soldier who couldn’t possibly get acne. Still, she would involuntarily refrain from indulging in his cheek kisses as much as she normally would when it was a bad skin week.

If Bucky told her that he never even noticed, she would think he was lying to her. But he didn’t. She was always the same beautiful girl to him at all times. It didn’t matter if it was the week before her period or the first few months of her pregnancy; he did not see the new pimples. Bucky didn’t notice because he saw her, he focused on her rather than on the flesh and skin that covered her bones.

She was the one to bring his attention to the acne on her face, the acne on her shoulders, on her back, on her butt. Bucky didn’t care though. He loved her all the same, craved her all the same, could stare at her dreamily for hours all the same, could cum in his pants at the sight of her naked form like a horny teenager all the same.

But she had already gotten him to notice the physical changes, so he acted accordingly. With care. With love. Unconditional love.

“Doll, don’t pick,” Bucky says, gently taking her hand up to his lips before her nails could start picking at her new pimples.

He kisses her finger tips and the back of her hand before keeping it in his to make sure she wouldn’t take it to her face again.

She smiles, trying to focus back on the movie playing on their TV, but all she could really think about was how much she loves Bucky Barnes.

Body hair

The next time Bucky realized that his beloved goddess had insecurities, it surprised him still. It was when he came back from a long mission 2 days earlier than expected and tried to show her how much he’s missed her.

He noticed how she instantly closed in on herself when his foot caressed up her shin, moving away a little.

It was only when he pressed her about it through tickles that she finally provided an explanation and whispered, “I didn’t shave.”

Again, Bucky hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the this was her. His girl. The one he has missed like crazy when he was away. The one he wanted to be naked with and make love to all night long.

If she thought a bit of body hair was going to stop him, she couldn’t be more wrong.

“Doll, I don’t care.” He tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

She only ever did that once before because she was sick and forgot he couldn’t catch her cold.

“Buck, please, there’s hair everywhere.” She covers her mouth, “even the mustache has some.”

Her insecure whisper with her gaze lowered tugged at Bucky’s heart in a way he couldn’t describe.

Who the hell has led her to believe that body hair was something to be this ashamed of and where could he find them? He just wanted to talk—

“You think a little hair is going to stop me from ravishing you, doll?” Bucky asks huskily, nibbling at her earlobe.

She shivers like she always does, but still tries to pull away, “it is not just a little hair.”

She gets up and stands in the middle of the room, looking in the direction of the bathroom, “I can be quick.”

Bucky sighs, sitting down on the edge of their bed and pulling her down on his lap.

“Doll, I never wanna make you uncomfortable, you know that.”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” she explains softly.

“You’re not. I am more than comfortable fucking you right on the floor beneath your feet.”

She blushes, looking up at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

“I don’t care if you haven’t shaved for a few days or if you were turned into a yeti. You’re my girl and I want you. I will always want you.”

Bucky’s eyes were sincere and the bulge she was sitting on confirmed his words all the more, so she finally let him lay her down on her back and worship her the way she was meant to be.

Bucky let his lips kiss every inch of her that night. He licked the shit out of her thighs and ate her pussy like a starved man, not letting up until she was about to pass out, but most importantly until she believed him.

Stretch marks and body weight changes

Now that was the one that really never made Bucky blink even once. If anything, he liked them. Her stretch marks looked like the ripples of the sea on the skin of his very beloved. The fucking ocean with all its beauty under his calloused fingertips. He liked it all the more knowing it was just more evidence of his baby growing inside of her. How lucky was he?

She, of course, didn’t see it that way, examining her waist and thighs for hours before the mirror if Bucky would let her.

“Admiring how hot you are, I see.” Bucky smiled as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She instantly smiles back at his warmth engulfing her from behind though she doesn’t agree, “yeah, yeah.. hot is the word.”

“I don’t like your insinuations about my girl, doll.” He nibbles at her neck, his fingers gravitating towards her growing belly.

“That’s because there’s nothing hot about this, Bucky!” She argues, frustrated.

“Doll, you have another human growing inside of you; it’s more than normal for these changes to happen to your body.” He doesn’t stop caressing her bare tummy as his lips brush along her neck.

“I know.. doesn’t mean I will magically be able to accept it though. It’s.. a lot, Buck.”

“I know, love,” he kisses the spot behind her ear, “but I swear to you, you have never been sexier to me.”

“You swear? Pfft.” She tries to get out of his hold, unable to see what he was talking about.

“Hey,” Bucky stops her, bringing her back to stand before the mirror, “look at yourself. You’re a goddamn goddess. You have a baby in here and your body is merely accommodating, baby. Look at those full breasts.” Bucky squeezes her boobs gently in his large hands and she instantly moans, “all mine”.

“But— ”

“Who did this to you hmm?” Bucky teases, circling his thumb over her covered nipple.

“Bucky—” Her head is thrown back on his shoulder as his other hand finds its way between her legs.

“Who put a baby in you? Filled up this tight pussy again and again until you had no choice but to become knocked up?”

“Y- you did, Buck.” She breathes, her legs opening for him.

“That’s right, doll.” He slips a finger into her and then another, “look at yourself. Look how breathtaking you look with my baby growing inside of you, taking my fingers like you were meant to.”

She can barely open her eyes, yet the first thing they zero on is, “but the stretch marks—”

“I love them.” Bucky sucks at her neck.

“And all that newly gained body weight—” She moans, her hips grinding down on his hand.

“I adore it.”

“The way I’m gonna get heavier—”

“Has me absolutely infatuated.”

When her legs suddenly shake, her knees buckling, she thinks it was Bucky’s complete acceptance of her in every state that made her cum, not his fingers.

And if she thinks she’s going to walk away from that mirror before she watches herself fall apart for Bucky at least twice, she was an idiot.

 Snoring

It’s gotten a little difficult for her as the months pass to sleep in any other position but on her back, which unfortunately led to something she never used to do: snoring. The first night Bucky had woken her up to help her adjust the position of her head made her felt so embarrassed that she couldn’t go back to sleep again. And the very next night, she wanted to sleep in a different bed as to not interrupt Bucky’s sleep so much, so.. annoyingly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Buck, let’s be rational, please. You have things to do tomorrow, a mission by the end of the week. You need your sleep. Lots of it.”

“I said no, doll.”

“But listen—”

“I don’t remember you making me sleep in a different room when I used to wake you up to nightmares.”

His voice is so soft as he reminds her and it makes her heart melt.

“Bucky, that’s different—”

“You’re right, my thing almost gave you a fucking heart attack every single night, sometimes multiple times in the same night.”

“It’s not like it was something you chose to do!”

“And this is something you choose to do?”

Her mouth opens and closes but remains silent.

“Doll, I don’t wake you up at night because I’m annoyed by the snoring. I wake you up because I want you to breathe properly and have a comfortable sleep.”

“I want you to have a comfortable sleep too—”

“I do. Doll, I don’t wanna be anywhere but next to you. You think I’m gonna give up the privilege of being able to fall asleep next to you just because you started snoring?”

“Bucky.” She blushes in embarrassment, yet her heart skips a beat.

“Love, you are the reason I’m able to fall asleep like a normal person at all. How could you ever think I would wanna sleep in separate rooms?”

“I just care for you.”

“I care for you too, baby. And I wanna be there for you, with you, every step of the way. I want you snoring to wake me up because then I know to reposition your head and help you sleep better. I want your cold feet to wake me up because then I know to put socks on you because I know you can’t reach because of your belly—”

“My feet wake you up too!”

“Jesus, doll—”

~

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[winchesterwild78]

Silly Rabbit

Master List

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, fluff, language

A/N: Just a quick story from a tagged post by @jackles010378. Reader is an emotional drunk and Dean becomes aware one evening after returning home and finding her crying.

This was written fast and not edited good. All work is my own, don’t take it or copy it. Reblogs, likes, and feedback are always welcomed.

Minors DNI 18+

Dean’s footsteps heavy on the bunker steps as he descended the stairs. He had just gotten home from a hunt and was ready to hold you in his arms. 

As he walked towards the kitchen to grab a beer he heard sobs coming from the dining room. Turning on his heels he quickly went in, finding you at the table. Glass of whiskey in one hand and a cereal box in the other. 

A smirk grew on his face. “Hey sweetheart, you okay?” “Oh Dean, you’re home. No, I’m not okay. We protect people, why can’t we protect rabbits?” Your speech slurred, Dean knew you were drunk. “Rabbits?” “Yes, rabbits.” You held up the box of cereal and Dean saw the cartoon rabbit on the box. He chuckled, “Sweetheart, he doesn’t need protecting.” 

You tried to stand but stumbled. Dean caught you. “Yes, all he wants is some cereal and those mean kids won’t give him any. Why, Dean, why?” You sobbed into his chest. Dean rubbed your head, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Honey, he’ll be okay. I remember he got some one time, years ago.” Your eyes shot up to his, “Really? So they tease him with a bowl one time and then keep it away. Oh my god, monsters.” Louder sobs came from your lips. “I tell you what, tomorrow we will write a letter to the company and demand they give the rabbit some cereal.” Dean laughed. “Really? You’d do that for me, for the rabbit?” “Of course sweetheart.” He kissed your head. 

Dean had seen you tipsy before, but he’d never seen you this drunk. He knew something happened that caused you to drink this much. 

“Darlin’, talk to me. What’s this about?” “I told you, the rabbit.” He lifted your chin, “No, it’s not.” Your head dropped, “Yes it is.” You cried harder. Dean knew something else happened, but he also knew you’d keep it from him while you tried to work it out for yourself. The two of you were very similar that way. 

Dean grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “Baby, please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Is anyone hurt?” You shook your head no. “Did someone die?” Again, you shook your head no. “Do you want a divorce?” Your head shot up and you gasped, “No!” “Good, just checking.” “Darlin’ I hate seeing you like this, please talk to me.” 

You took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “I ran into her today. She asked about you. She wanted me to tell you she still loved you and wanted you back. I told her we were married, and she said she already knew that. She already knew, but wanted me, your wife, to tell you that she loved you and wanted you back. He was with her, and I know she said he’s not yours, but he looks just like you.” 

“Sweetheart, I told you I don’t want her. I want you, I’m married to you. She can try whatever she wants, but she’s not going to get me. You are my wife, my love, my home. My emotional, big hearted, sweet, caring, sexy as hell, wife. There is nothing that will ever change that.” He pulled you flush to his body and kissed you deeply. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have drank so much, but that fucking rabbit still deserves some cereal.” Dean laughed, “Come on sweetheart, let’s take the cereal with us to the bedroom. I want to show you how much I love being your husband.” 

He picked you up, carrying you and the box of cereal to your shared bedroom. Laughter and giggles filled the bunker as Dean carried you down the hallway. 

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[yeonmuse]

MINI SERIES | YANG JUNGWON

CAN YOU HEAR MY HEART?

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : Jungwon falls for an antisocial girl with a passion for music and a love for the stars.

GENRE, fluff, slow burn , smau

( 𝐁𝐚𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ) : I honestly have no idea where this came from I just thought of anti social Jungwon and Anti social reader coming together and this is where it got me

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𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @jwonistic @jiamini @sol3chu @vixialuvs

The final score

Today was the final day which Jungwon and yn would spend together working on the project together. Needless to say he wasn’t sure what would happen after this, yes the two of them had become closer but he had his doubts. Would she still want to hang out with him after tonight? He sat silently tapping his pencil against the table as the ticking of the clock continued to wind. His nerves screaming at him to for once go against his thoughts and go for what he clearly wanted.

His thoughts were interrupted as yn slipped into the room like always, she held two drinks in her hand just like the last night they worked with one another.

“It’s so cold out.” She places the drinks on the table before taking off her coat, Jungwon realized it almost immediately and he hated that he did, but she was avoiding his gaze.

“So I already recorded the tracks. Should we start by working on their placements?”

“Look at me yn.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He caught her, she couldn’t look at him, not after last night. It would only make things worse for her, it would only solidify the way she felt for him after last night.

“You haven’t looked at me once since you came inside yn, please.” His pleading made her heart hurt her chest, she sensed a hint of hurt in his voice but she couldn’t get herself to face him. So without a second thought Jungwon took it upon himself to turn her head and make her look at him.

“Better.” Her breath caught in her throat as she was forced to now face him, unlike her he didn’t shy away from her gaze, he stared directly into her eyes.

“Um, so the soundtrack.” She clears her throat before returning her attention back to the task at hand. She remained like that with him for the rest of the night. Stealing glances at him or chasing the subject when he talked about anything other than the project at hand, they worked at it for hours until they had perfected it. Then there was nothing more to discuss once the final adjustments had been made.

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to push further and further from me no matter how much closer you try to get?” The question caught her off guard, but it wasn’t like it was something she could avoid.

“What do you mean..?”

“The entire time since the day we met we've been trying to get closer to you, Sunoo became friends with you faster than I ever could, you grew accustomed to the others in just an hour..but with me..”

“Jungwon..”

“What about me is different from them?”

“You make me feel how the stars used to make me feel..” It was clear by Jungwons expression that he was completely confused.

“When I was younger, I fell in love with stargazing. It was calming on nights where all I could do was overthink or bombard myself with useless thoughts. It became an ongoing thing, listening to music and writing beneath the stars and I felt, I felt happy..like I wasn’t alone. I could look at them and hope for things I'd never hope for on a normal day, but at some point the sky became void of them.” Jungwon had no idea where she was going with this, but everything in him was more than sure she felt the way he did.

“The way I would feel when I look at them, is how I feel with you, calm, Seen, heard, like I'm not alone. But you also make me feel things I've never in my life experienced with Jungwon. You make me nervous. I’ve never ever in my life felt like this towards anyone before because I always made sure that I was alone. With the others it's so easy…but with you, I don’t want your friendship Jungwon, I like you.”

Jungwon had no idea what to say, he was completely stuck, he had never expected for her to be sitting right here confessing to him that she liked him.

“I like you too.”

[isekyaaa]

Tbh I don't wanna write. So I won't. I'm gonna take a break. A long break. Maybe a permanent one. As long as I'm well fed reading-wise I'm sure I'll be fine. I know I said what I said a few days ago, but like everything is different now. I've done it many times I can do it again.

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[discjude]

Yeah this is about right (as always my thoughts are in the tags so there's actually kei content there lmao)

[re-discover-communication]

Every once in a while I get this sudden urge to send positive anon asks to people I care a lost about even though they don't even know I exist. Probably. Just to, I don't know. Cheer them up? Be sure that they get at least one positive moment and a "Oh, someone has thought about me today" in their day. Have them know that someone does care about them. And I suppose this urge somehow comes from the lack of and desire for interactions I have here. I've been alone like a rock in my main blog for five years, now that I created this one and linked it to my ao3 and I've experienced 🌠the interactions 🌌 it feels so much lonelier when I don't get any. Which then makes me go "if I post another fic people will reach out and leave comments/reblog/send asks" (the emotions I went through when I received my first ask, oh man). Which isn't exactly the right thing to do/think. But it's exactly what happens. So now that I'm between two fics (The Growls and the WIP) and here it's mostly silent now, like the saying goes, if people don't come to me I go to them. Kind of. It's a sort of coping mechanism. "I'm sad and lonely. Let's send some positivity to someone." And then they reply saying I made them feel better and I feel better too.

[watercolor-hearts]

.

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[halfricanloveyou]

yeah. like with harry potter. i read that shit and it was boring as hell. pacing was slow for no reason. characters were predictable and 2-D. little focus on cool wizard battles. written by a racist terf (who i hope dies so she stops actively spending her harry potter money to keep human rights laws from being passed).

twilight held my interest better and i didn’t even like reading those books but at least i felt compelled to see where the fuck that plot was going. (but i also hate that racist author and think she fucking sucks at writing. what the fuck was that plot tho? shoulda ended it at book one.)

the movie? cool wizard battles. actors who weren’t terfs. different directors and writers who emotion put into lines that weren’t there in the book. still didn’t like them that much but at least there was some cool wizard shit to look at i guess.

the reason that isn’t true is because sometimes authors…aren’t good.

book to movie adaptations generally suck, but reblog with ur exception in the tags

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ��em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @vgilantee

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning again! And specially for trusting me with an idea to write it as I want, means a lot! <3

Request: fem/afab cat hybrid reader and first time taking werewolf boyfriend’s knot?

Plug you up to shut you up

Werewolf x cat-hybrid fem!reader || dom/sub undertones, phone sex (kinda), edging, orgasm denial, knotting, oral sex

“It won’t fit,” he told you for the thousandth time.

“Yes it will,” you argued, also a for the thousandth time. Your tail moving around in agitation. You weren’t asking much of him, just for his knot. You two had been dating for a few months, you deserved to be stretched and stuffed, didn’t you?

“No it won’t. Stop asking about it, you’ll get hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you.” His worry was adorable and you wanted to hug him about it, but also scratch his face because he was being way too nice about it.

“I won’t get hurt!” You argued again.

“Yes you will, you are tiny and your pussy is just too tight for it to fit.” His voice was exasperated, like he was arguing with a kid, or like he was a dom arguing with his bratty sub… Which was pretty much what was happening right there.

“Pretty please…” You asked, looking up at him, blinking slowly, trying your best innocent look.

“No,” he repeated. But you saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. He was going to agree, you just needed to try a bit harder.

“Pleaaaaaaaaase…” you repeated, pouting. You caressed his chest slowly and acted all coy. He loved when you did that.

He sighed. “Ugh. I hate you.”

You jumped, happily and hugged him around his middle. “No you don’t, you love me so much you are going to stuff me with your knot.”

He grabbed your wrist and kissed you until you were out of breath. When you broke apart, he told you: “Okay, but we need to do some prep first.”

“What kind of prep?” You asked, already suspicious of his intentions.

That’s how you found yourself wearing a plug in the middle of the day. He bought some kind of special plugs that were made exactly for your purpose. There were five of them and you were supposed to change them during the day leading to the knotting. He did a lot of research before buying them and was so serious about it that you couldn’t be mad about it. He was adorable, like a puppy.

He woke you up earlier that morning, knowing he had to go to work, just so he could eat you out and plug you with the first size. It was a bit uncomfortable to move around, but you could deal with it. It was fine. You made breakfast and worked for a bit before he video-called you.

“Hey darling, what do you want?” You asked, busy with your latest drawing. You had a deadline soon and wanted to do as much as possible as fast as possible.

“It’s time for you to change the plug,” he reminded you. There was an edge in his voice, the exact same edge as the one he had when he was ready to push his dick inside of you. Fuck, how was the tone of his voice so fucking hot? Being madly in love with a werewolf was fucking with your brain, you now got wet when he talked. Just talked. Insane, you were going completely insane.

“Yeah, right. Will do,” you answered, not paying too much attention to him as you reached to end the call.

He stopped you. “Hey wait! I want to see.”

You looked back at the phone like he grew a second head. “What?”

“I called so I could see as you change it. I want to see.” His voice was pleading, but demanding. The idea of him calling you just to see your pussy was making you all kinds of hot and bothered, and it was annoying. But you agreed, because it was making you all kinds of hot and bothered. Fuck, you wanted to cum so bad.

You positioned your phone so the frontal camera was looking at your pussy, your face extremely red as you parted your legs. You could hear his intake of breath as you parted your lips and he saw the base of the plug still inside. His grunt of pleasure made you whimper as you pulled the plug out. Your pussy gaped as he groaned.

“Fuck, kitten, look at you. It looks so puffy and swollen for me. You are going to look so pretty wrapped around my knot.” You blushed harder, trying to insert the second size without knocking off the phone. You whimpered again when it made contact with your swollen clit. “Fuck, do that again. Touch your pretty pussy for me, kitten.” His growl was so deep it made you groan. You complied, running the plug up and down your slit and getting it all wet. You were so ready to come you wanted to beg. “That’s enough, kitten. You can’t come, remember? I told you that this morning.” You whimpered, but obeyed. You wanted to be a good kitten. You pushed the plug inside, feeling the stretch but still comfortable with it. “Good job, you are doing perfectly. How does that feel?”

“Go- good.” Your voice broke down when you lowered your leg and the plug pressed against your G-spot. Fuck. This one was going to be harder.

“I will call you later for the next size. Love you, bye!” His cheerful nature annoyed you to no end. He called you, got you all hot and bothered and then had the audacity to forbid you from coming and then hang up on you. Fucking werewolves (affectionately).

It went exactly like that three more times. Each size up was harder and harder to adapt to. You felt so stretched and needy you wanted to grind against every single surface, unable to sit down since size three. You had been standing around, trying to clean but failing. Every time you bent down to pick something, it pressed against your G-spot and you saw stars. When the fifth plug was inside of you, you couldn’t hold it anymore and had to call him.

He picked up at the second ring. “Please… Please come home. I- I need…” You whimpered, unable to keep talking.

“I’m on my way, go strip and wait for me on the bed. Face down, ass up. Be a good kitten for me.” He instructed. You followed his instructions without even processing them. “Don’t hang up on me, talk to me, tell me what you did today.” You could hear him walking around, closing the door to the car. The anticipation was killing you.

You tried to tell him, to distract yourself so you wouldn’t grind onto the bed until you came all over yourself. You told him about your new project, about the art supplies you wanted to get, and he listened and asked questions. Without realizing he arrived home.

You heard the door closing as he hung up the phone and ran to the bedroom. You were exactly how he instructed, face down, ass up. Your tail was going crazy from side to side waiting for him. You felt on the edge of the biggest orgasm you’d ever felt, and he was just standing there.

“Please…” Your plea broke him out of his stupor, tearing off his clothes as he approached the bed.

“Good goddess kitten, you look good enough to eat. Are you ready? Do you still want this? You can say no.” He was always so sweet that you wanted to cry, but at that moment it infuriated you.

“Knot me already!” You cried out, more than ready. You always appreciated when he asked stuff and asked for consent beforehand, but in that moment you were beyond any questioning, you wanted to be filled. You wanted to be stuffed with his knot.

He didn’t comment anymore, he lowered his pants and threw them someplace behind him. You could hear something breaking, but you didn’t care. He slowly but surely took the plug out as you cried out his name, grinding back against air as your gaping pussy dripped with fresh juices. You were so turned on you could cry. Maybe you were crying already. You couldn't feel anything apart from his hand on your hip and the tip of his cock at your entrance.

He didn’t ask anymore. He pushed right in and you groaned, coming instantly around him. Your claws tearing through the bed sheets. He grunted behind you, not stopping. He held your hips secure as your arms went limp under you and you face-planted to the bed. He kept fucking into you and telling you how pretty you looked, how good your pussy felt around his shaft. You came at least twice more before you felt the knot forming.

“Do you want it? Tell me you want my knot, kitten.” His voice was soft and demanding, and it made your insides melt. You loved that stupid werewolf so much you could squeeze him until he disappeared. But right now you needed his knot more than anything.

“Yes. YES. Knot me!” He didn’t wait anymore. He pulled your tail up, making you scream as he pushed his fat knot inside your pussy. Your eyes crossed and your brain turned off. The only thing you could feel was the stretch of his knot and the first shot of his cum deep inside.

“Does that feel good, kitten? Do you like to be so full you can’t even talk?” He chuckled at your blissed out face. “Guess it does, you love it, don’t you?” He rolled his hips and you opened your mouth to say something, but you could only drool in pleasure, too fucked out to even control your saliva. Embarrassing. But so fucking good you could die impaled on his cock and you’d die a happy cat. “If I had known all it took for you to shut up was to fill you to the brim I would have done it sooner.” You tried to argue with him but when you opened your mouth the only thing that you could do was moan as your eyes rolled back into your head. It was insane how big he felt inside of you, how stretched you felt. It was like you were going to break apart, but at the same time, his knot was the only thing keeping you together.

By the time the knot went down, he was still grinding inside of you, your pussy raw and abused. It felt like pain and pleasure mixed in the most excruciating sensation you’d ever felt. As soon as his knot deflated, he was there, tongue and fingers and playing with your used hole. He licked and sucked and made out with your pussy until you were coming again. And then another time. Your body couldn’t hold you up anymore, and you gave up trying.

“I like you like this, limp and fucked out. We should do that again.” His voice was cheerful and animated, and you wanted to scratch his face for being so fucking annoying. But good lord if you didn’t want to be fucked like that again. “I take that groan as a yes,” he said with a laugh.

Ugh, fucking werewolves.

Reminder that you can also commission me, info here.

[secretsandwriting]

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

[veltana]

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

[sparklingchim]

game on 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: lots of smoochies !! 🤭, their first kiss <3, umm mentions of jk's infamous threesome again 😔, koo talks abt taking girls in missionary what can i say he is a man

summary: jungkook and you practice acting for the cameras. kissing him feels more right than you anticipated.

a/n: yayy chapter 2 is here!!!! <3 writing this was truly saur much fun n i hope u have fun reading too !!! 😋

read chappie one here

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"Just kiss me."

"Hold on a second."

"We really need to practise this."

"I know, just give me a minute."

You scoot away from Jungkook on the couch. You were sitting so close, almost about to kiss him actually, but his intense, doe-eyed gaze made you pause, needing a grounding breath.

You’ve never been this close to his face, and somehow, you can’t seem to cross the invisible line that keeps you from just pressing your mouth on his. Jungkook’s your friend, after all. You’ve known him since he was five and once saw him get his head stuck at school, so of course it’s weird.

You press your lips together in an attempt to focus, and lean in again, but once your eyes meet his, a smile urges on your mouth.

"Oh my god." Jungkook’s frustrated sigh cuts the air. "This can’t already be doomed to failure because of a simple kiss."

"It’s not! I just need to mentally prepare myself."

"I feel...offended? Kinda?" Jungkook weaves his fingers through his hair. "I’ve never had to convince someone to kiss me."

"It’s not you. I promise!" you say, reaching for his knee. "Under any other circumstance, if we weren’t friends, I’d love to kiss you. You’re hot and cute, but the situation we’re in makes me feel so stupid. It’s absurd."

Jungkook cringes when you call him cute and removes your hand off his knee.

Yesterday, when Jungkook showed up unannounced, it took him full ten minutes to convince you he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

Who would believe their friend begging you to fake date them? It’s ridiculous. Only happens in the fictional world.

But then Jungkook showed you the pap picture that was circulating online. The comments and gossip were nasty and you knew he was caught up in a deep mess.

In the photo, Jungkook was surrounded by two girls, his arms draped casually around their waists as they stumbled out of the club, a half-full drink lazily held in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess, likely from the girls running their fingers through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small peek into his defined chest. It was bold, provocative — definitely not the ideal image of a responsible twenty-year-old football rookie.

Probably the worst pap pic you’ve seen of him so far. And the worst timing too.

"You were wasted," you commented, staring at the article he was showing you on his phone.

"And I had so much fun last night." His voice was tinged with frustration, like a child whose favourite toy had just been snatched away. "But then I woke up to this picture, and a flood of missed calls and texts." He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. "They just had to ruin it for me."

Noticing your raised eyebrow, Jungkook quickly backtracked. "No, I know it’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have done this right before the World Cup, especially after what I promised. I just hate how everything turns into such a big deal, just because... well, just because I’m me."

The idea of fake dating Jungkook had seemed absurd, something out of a rom-com rather than real life. But the more he explained the pressure he was under, the more you understood why he needed this.

Jungkook was your best friend, and if kissing him in public could save his career, why not help him?

While you got ready for meeting his manager, stepping out of your comfy, rotting-at-home clothes, which consisted of little shorts and an oversized t-shirt (you think it’s actually Jungkook’s, but you’re not quite sure since it’s been in your closet for years now), and slipping into a casual, more presentable outfit, Jungkook busied himself fixing your laundry machine.

Jungkook’s manager knows you well – his entire team does. You are known as Jungkook’s close friend and had been spotted with him on multiple occasions.

Taesung greeted you warmly, though surprise flickered across his face when Jungkook introduced you as the solution to the fake dating plan.

You felt Taesung’s gaze assessing you, weighing your suitability for the role. Jungkook’s PR agent mirrored his scepticism, tilting her head in doubt. They exchanged uncertain glances, which made you nervous, but Jungkook was determined. Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook if he didn’t get what he wanted. With a few persuasive words and his usual charm, he quickly won Taesung over, who sighed and leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"We need to establish the narrative from the start," Taesung said seriously. "The media will dig into your background, and they’ll want to know if there’s anyone else in the picture. So, to be clear, you’re officially single. No boyfriend, no complicated past relationships that could surface. We don’t need any messy stories."

You assured them that there was none. Multiple times. No angry exes, no secret relationships – your personal life was as drama-free as it could get.

Taesung slid a document across the desk.

"This ensures that whatever happens, no details of this arrangement-"

Jungkook’s hand shot out, halting the paper. "No," he said firmly. "She doesn’t need to sign anything."

"Jungkook, it’s just a formality," Jiwoo began, but Jungkook insisted.

"I trust ___. She’s not just anybody. She’s my best friend. If she says she won’t talk, she won’t talk. The NDA isn’t necessary."

"It’s okay," you assured him gently.

Jungkook shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous. You’re not signing a stupid contract."

After more arguing, his manager eventually relented.

Jiwoo outlined the plan in more detail with Taesung – public appearances, social media posts, carefully orchestrated moments that would sell the story to the public. You felt a bit intimidated by the pressure, but you’d get used to it. After all, this arrangement is only for a few months – just until his management can announce that you’d mutually decided to break up on good terms.

But you both need to practise before stepping in front of the cameras.

Which leads you to this moment, a day later, sitting on your couch trying to practice how to act like a couple. And it’s not going well at all.

"Okay, let’s start from the basics then," Jungkook suggests. He rises to his feet, offering you his hand. "Hold my hand."

You gingerly accept his hand, standing up as well.

"See, don’t we look cute?" Jungkook drags you to the mirror. "Or maybe – let’s intertwine our fingers. I think that would look better." He holds your interlaced hands up between the two of you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "So cute, right?"

A giggle bubbles in your throat. "You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend."

"Well, it has been a while," he admits, the slightest sulk on his lips. "I’m too busy for relationships." He swings your hands. "The only times I ever hold a girl’s hand is in missionary, above their head when-"

"Jungkook," you interrupt quickly before he can delve any deeper into the story. You give him a mock glare, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Didn’t we both agree on only talking about your bed stories after I’ve had at least one bottle of soju – preferably two, so I can mentally brace myself?"

You love him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear about his bed stories, unless you’re the slightest bit tipsy at first.

"Oh, yeah." He shakes his head apologetically. "Forgot about that."

"Wait, maybe that’s what we should do!" you exclaim as an idea pops into your mind. Your hand slips out of his, and you take a step toward the kitchen. "I think there are a few bottles of soju in the fridge."

"We’re not getting drunk to build up the courage to kiss," he insists. "We shouldn’t need alcohol to pretend we’re into each other."

Jungkook pulls you closer to him, and you stumble slightly, but his hand instinctively moves to the small of your back, steadying you.

"Fine," you sigh dramatically, hand on his chest. "Was just an idea to make this easier for us." The fabric of his shirt is extremely soft and your fingers glide over it.

"I mean, it’s not like we’re complete strangers. And they know it too. We’ve been through enough to pull this off without breaking a sweat."

He’s is right. The public knows you’re one of Jungkook’s closest friends. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that you two might have fallen in love.

After all, you’ve always been comfortable with each other —hugging, cuddling during movie nights, play-fight over silly things just to annoy each other. You’ve shared quiet moments, like when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day or when he’d run his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you talked. There were times when Jungkook was exhausted and crashed at your place, your fingers gently scratching his head as he slept peacefully. You’ve kissed each other’s cheeks in thanks without hesitation.

Jungkook’s touch isn’t foreign to you.

And still, the thought of acting like you’re in love when you’re not feels strange. Sure, you’ve always been physically close, but this was different. This time, every gesture would be for an audience, every touch would carry a different meaning. It wasn’t just casual anymore.

"I guess," you reply, fiddling with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I think it’s just weird to be this close for show."

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening as he considers your words. "Yeah," he murmurs. "But it’s not like we’re faking the friendship part. The rest...we’ll figure out." His fingers clasp your hip, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your flesh. "Don’t think about it too much," he says. "When we have our first public appearance as a couple, pretend like the cameras aren’t there, act nonchalant. Just... y’know. You and me."

You pout, an involuntarily frustrated grumble leaving your lips as you drop your forehead on his chest.

"I hope I’ll do well under all the attention."

You’ve dealt with your fair share of noisy people trying to pry into your relationship with Jungkook, but so far, it’s been somewhat manageable.

"Just you and me," Jungkook repeats, his tone softer and more assured this time. "Nothing can happen to you when I’m there."

You glance up at him, taking in the gentle lines of his face.

"Maybe you should’ve hired a girl that can deal well with attention," you voice your thoughts.

"No." Jungkook’s immediate response rolls off harshly on his tongue. "You were my first thought. I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else but you."

"I was your first choice?" Giddiness makes your face shine.

"Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable with anyone but you."

"Be honest, you just really wanna kiss me."

You stand on your tippy toes, a silly smile spreading across your face.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint buried in his eyes.

"I think you do."

With a surge of confidence, you take a small step closer, your heart beating a little faster as you close the gap between you and Jungkook. Your lips meet in a gentle, fleeting touch. The contact only lasts for a moment before you pull back, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

"That was a smooch. Not a kiss."

You frown upon hearing him complain.

"What, you want to make out with me in public?"

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. "No, but maybe a little more than how fifth graders kiss."

"You’re a kissing expert now?" you quip back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook leans in slightly. "I just know what I like."

The challenge in his voice sparks something in you. "Then show me how you like it."

His gaze drops to your lips, and a flutter of excitement spreads in your tummy. It’s unexpected and thrilling and it catches you off guard.

Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your back, slowly glides up, his fingers curling around the side of your face, his thumb brushing delicately against your cheekbone.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. His lips meet yours again, but this time there’s more weight behind the contact – still soft, but deeper, more intentional. His lips move slowly and there’s a warmth to it, a tenderness that makes your heart race even as the kiss remains gentle. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the connection just enough to make you melt into him.

The teasing atmosphere lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it’s pushed aside by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

Kissing Jungkook doesn’t feel weird – which makes it a little weird.

When you both finally pull back, it’s gradual. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own.

"Like that," he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re a good kisser."

You pull back completely. "Excuse me?" you say. "You were doubting my kissing abilities?"

"No, not at all!" Jungkook shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes as he gazes at your sulky face. "You’re just a very good kisser. Like, super gentle and smooth."

Heat crawls up your cheeks. You ignore the flush of warmth and keep your composure. "Have you been using the lip balm I got you? Your lips are soft."

"I know, right? Not chapped at all anymore."

He traces two fingers along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion, finding yourself inexplicably drawn to his lips.

"Are we done practising?"

"Do you think we looked natural?" Jungkook’s hand slips into yours once more. While he is focused on the mirror, adjusting the way your bodies fit together – tugging you closer, alternating between holding your hand and interlacing your fingers – your mind is still replaying the memory of the tender press of his lips. "For me, it felt pretty natural. Not awkward at all. What do you think?"

It’s the simplicity with which he says it that draws a short laugh out of you.

The sound grabs his attention. "What?"

"You’re just...extremely serious about this. I don’t think they’ll analyse the way we hold hands, Kook."

"But that’s their favourite thing to do," Jungkook replies. "The gossip mills love analysing every step you take, where your eyes wander, who you smile at." A note of bitterness threads through his words.

He’s been playing pro for just two years and has fallen victim to greedy people intruding on his life so many times already. Former friends who leaked private conversations, acquaintances who turned their brief interactions into tabloid fodder, even strangers who felt entitled to a piece of him just because he was in the public eye.

Jungkook searched for solace and silence at your place many times, trying to escape the madness. In the quiet of your dorm, breathing felt easier.

You never asked questions, never pried. In a world where everyone seemed out to get something from him, you just let him be, offering him the comfort of your presence without demanding anything in return.

"People were just criticising this dude – ah, who was it again?" Jungkook stares at the ceiling, raking through his thoughts. "I can’t remember his name, but this guy was getting called out for choosing the booth seat while making his girlfriend sit in the aisle seat."

"The aisle seat? Come on, it’s an unwritten rule that-" You fall silent once you catch Jungkook’s pointed expression. "I mean, yeah. It’s definitely wrong to make a big deal about it. Maybe she prefers sitting there," you shrug.

"But do you see what I mean?" he asks. "Whether you intend to or not, you’re always judging what others do. And that judgement only intensifies when it involves a celebrity."

"Ah, when did you become so famous Jeon Jungkook?" You sigh, looking down at your linked hands.

"I know, right? Two years ago, no one would’ve cared if I had a threesome." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And now I am being punished for it—kicked off the national team, and my best friend has to save me by fake dating me."

"I feel like this would make a good movie," you giggle.

“We have to practise hard, then," he says.

You pull your phone from your pocket. "What if we film ourselves kissing so we can monitor it better?" You set up your phone on a nearby shelf and position yourselves in front of the camera. "Don’t engaged couples do this? I feel like we’re practising for our wedding kiss."

"Oh, butterflies."

"Huh?" You stare at the way he holds his hand against his tummy.

"You just told me you want to marry me. That gave me butterflies."

You slap his arm. "Stop being silly, we have a whole nation to fool that we’re in love."

~

Hang outs with Jungkook often end with the two of you lounging on the couch, snacks scattered everywhere, and a movie playing on the TV.

"Next one?" Jungkook asks from his spot beside you, inching closer with his pleading doe eyes.

You try to push him away by the, but he doesn’t budge.

"I need to study. Like, for real." You had warned him before starting the movie, agreeing to watch only one, but he still tried his luck.

He holds up one finger. "Just one."

You push him off your body, and this time he allows it, his back slumping against the couch. The grumble of complaint in his throat gets muffled by his pursed lips.

"You’re smart. The material is probably set in your brain anyway. No need to revise anything."

You scoff at his bratty words.

"So you won’t ever need to ditch hangouts for football practice because you’re already so good at it?"

"Well, no." He drags the word out, brows furrowed as he considers your question, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "But I know you don’t need to study as much as you do. You’re just naturally smart."

"I wish, but I ace my exams because I study as much as I do."

"Aish," Jungkook mutters, standing up from the couch and stretching his limbs. His toned tummy peeks out from under his lifted shirt.

"Karina will be home soon anyway," you say. "And I’m not ready to play pretend in front of her yet." The thought of confessing to your roommate that Jungkook is now your boyfriend makes you shudder.

It was one of the conditions that made you briefly reconsider if you could really pull this off or if Jungkook should find another girl. You didn’t just have to act in front of the cameras – everyone had to believe that you and Jungkook are a couple, including your friends and family. You dread the day you have to tell your parents.

You know they once secretly hoped Jungkook would become your boyfriend when you were older, but as he became famous and the public started scrutinising his every move, your parents grew wary of his wild, reckless side.

You follow Jungkook to the door.

"You think she’ll believe us?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Not sure if she’ll buy it. She’ll probably be suspicious since I’ve never talked about you in that way when we gossip, but I think we’ve practised enough to at least make it look like we love each other."

Jungkook nods and hugs you briefly. "We’ll figure it out." He steps out of your apartment, typing on his phone. "My manager sent me details about our first public appearance." He scans the text, but quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed frown. "Ah, so many words. I’ll just forward you the messages." With a sweet smile and a quick wave, he starts to leave, but you tug at the back of his shirt.

You cup his face, pulling him down to you, and plant a kiss on his lips.

"You’re my boyfriend now. Act like it."