#not here for a fight I love both pairings

[rhaenyraeri]

Eternity - Remmick

Pairing: Remmick x fem!Reader

Summary: Eternal damnation is only preferred when you both can spend eternity together, not when you’re alone.

Warnings: major character death, gore, angst(!), i did some lore changing, mayhap a little ooc smoke. i did my best lol. also minor proof reading was done, I wrote this listening to mound bayou on repeat and made myself sad writing it

Also, a note: i wrote this with a reader in mind that bared no resemblance to one race or the other, leaving it open to actually being an x reader. as a white person, it makes me upset to know there are people writing x readers in a way that isn’t racially descriptive of everyone reading, and also to know people are writing of the reader being in any way related to the klan.

if i made any mistakes, please let me know! i want to make it as racially ambiguous as possible. my writings are a safe place for everyone to feel included.

The sun came over the horizon and onto the vampire Remmick, and the two he had been hellbent on killing. A slight gust of smoke filled the air. Pain surged through his once, just a moment ago, envious, rage-filled, hunger devoted body. He let go of Sammie, who ran over to Smoke, grateful to have survived. They watched as the flames grew higher, now covering Remmick’s body, signaling his demise. They were safe now, the hell that the night had put them through had now come to an end. They backed away, creating distance from what was happening before them.

As his body hit the ground, they turned to make their leave. They’d survived the evil that filled their juke, at the loss of so many of their loved ones as well as friends and acquaintances. Limping away, the sound of sobbing filled their ears. It was you. Remmick’s wife, the one that earlier in the night, when his group arrived to the juke, had been right by his side and shown deep admiration of him. The two of you led the group, doing most of the talking, and you tried to compliment your way inside, of course to no avail. Stack had even, when you all walked away, minorly praised your attempt, saying you had the most appeal out of them all because of how charming your words were.

Now, here you were, laid across the charred body of Remmick, sobbing the most mournful, desperate, horrid cries they’d ever heard. Both men were unsure of where you came from, or how exactly you hadn’t met your end with the others. A vampire, like the rest of the hive minded bodies of their company that night, in the sunlight, though your skin was not showing any signs of weakness to the sun. When you looked up from where your head was on Remmick’s burnt chest, it was daylight. Your teary eyes slowly traced from the sky to your body. You weren’t dying. Not even in the slightest. You were damned to this earth from the gift Remmick gave you all those years ago, when he saw you performing with a group, playing some songs of their lineage, admiring how perfect you played that violin. You were different.. something he couldn’t live without. That he was sure of. The night you met, he’d spoke to you after the performance and, with that charm of his, got you to a secluded location, changed you, and from there on out you were inseparable. Love at first sight, he called it.

You knew you weren’t dying with him on this day. You’d suffered wounds from the fight just before and, although painful, they weren’t life threatening to you. To any other, it would’ve killed them. But you were different. Remmick had always said that, with how human you remained after you were turned, how you weren’t affected by the hive mind at all. The sobbing grew more intense, as your life with Remmick flashed before your eyes. The night at that bar, the countless days you’d spend in that abandoned cabin in the woods the two of you called home, the talks of, in another life, having a family together. A real family, a child of your own and a house you took deep pride in. The two of you were cursed to this life, and you knew you’d never get out of it. There was no returning to what you once were.

Footsteps rang in your ears and got closer, a pair of steps shuffling alongside them. You looked up, eyes so blurry with bloody vampiric tears and human tears alike. You could make out the figure, belonging to the man named Smoke.

��How come you’re not burning?,” he noted, squatting beside the two of you in the shallow water. No remorse was to be shown, as he lost the woman he loved but an hour or so before, to the man you laid clinging to. What sympathy were you to be given? You were just as compliant to this as Remmick.

“I… I don’t… I can’t.. I don’t know,” was all you could mutter out between each smothering cry. Remmick was all you knew, all you had. Not even a group of vampires remained. You were alone. Forever. A fear you had told him about one night, after he’d shown concern from being out in the sunlight too long from greedy feasting.

You heard Sammie whisper something to Smoke, who then stood up from his position.

“You’ll see Annie again… and your baby boy. I know you will,” you spoke, your words laced with complete confidence. She knew a lot with her practices, and you knew that mojo bag protected him against the vampires. The love they shared was strong enough to bind them together forever, to meet once more when it came his time to pass.

His feet came to a dead stop, as he turned to look at your pitiful state once more.

“How do you know her? About our son? How can I be so sure?”

“The love you two have.. it does more than you know.”

He stared at you. He was conversing with one of the creatures of the night that cost him his love. He raised the gun to shoot you, but he stopped himself. To be fair, you didn’t deserve mercy from him. You knew that. But the heartbreak in you begged for it. It crawled around your chest, scratching your skin like knives, cutting at your deadened heart, and dragging the guilt around with it.

Once more, he turned to leave. You were to succumb to the sun at some point, and that wound in your torso would only speed it up. At least, that was the hope. As he walked away, your crying grew louder… and louder.. and more desperate.

“Please!,” you managed to scream out, causing them both to turn to you once more, “I cannot live the rest of eternity like this.. Kill me.. Let me be free..”

Annie had said the souls were trapped in the body of a vampire when they were changed. She had shown remorse for them, knowing they’d never feel the sunrise again and that they were cursed to walk amongst this hate filled world for all eternity with no escape other than death. Smoke took a breath. He thought of his love for her, how her faith in her practices meant she and their son would reunite with him once more. He took some steps, bent down to get a thick, sturdy stick, and approached you.

Your body was basically covered in the ash from Remmick’s corpse now, pieces of the char stuck to your face. As you looked up, you made eye contact with the man in the back, Sammie, and gave a look filled with sympathy and sorrow. He experienced terror at the hands of your husband, and you felt for him. You then looked to Smoke, staring right into his eyes as you gave him the most thankful look you could, as he stabbed the stick into your chest, right into your heart. The pain was profound and horrendous, but you kept your eyes locked on his and with one last wail of tears, your words ran together. He could only make out two words; your final words.

“Thank you.”

He stood above the two corpses now, just looking. He didn’t know how you were certain of him reuniting with his family, but it gave him hope and, oddly, comfort. He moved you closer to Remmick’s body, so the two of you could, maybe, reunite in a world where you got your happy ending. An ending he hoped he would get the blessing of experiencing himself one day.

[shurisneakers]

Omg hi if you're taking requests can u do one where bucket and reader are like investigating a murder or something and just make them bicker idk I'll read ur grocery list bro you can keep it annoyance to lovers like the "I just want you to stop saying odd shit" bit and then they fall in love

the way i had to cycle through multiple scenarios before landing on this so i could keep it lighthearted. hey sexy. ily mwah mwah

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mild thunderbolts spoilers, swearing, longing, reader being annoying, fake murders

my masterlist over here and my silly little inbox for more requests, should you please

They're trained assassins.

Bob is not.

Yeah he does the dishes, and folds his laundry and rewatches old movies he liked better the first time. But eventually, he realizes he needs something to get him out of bed.

So he starts organizing nights.

Trivia. Gets weirdly competitive, and the tiebreaker is the name of some random model of gun from 1996.

A wine tasting that resulted in seven open bottles, no glasses, and someone using a tactical knife to open a wheel of Brie.

Potlucks, even though they don't know what to do with fifteen packets of Doritos and no real food.

And finally-- murder mystery nights.

Which is objectively deranged, because why are they coming home from their day job to cosplay it at night, but worse.

But it’s Bob. And Bob asks with that quiet, hopeful tone that’s hard to refuse. So they come. They try to stay longer than thirty minutes.

There's a body on the floor, covered in fake blood. None of the metallic smell that usually follows one-- it's something sweet. Suspiciously close to edible.

Bucky arrives late thirty minutes. Ridiculous, considering he lives in the building.

You arrive five minutes after that.

The others have already formed their teams, so he gets paired off with you. He knows why Bob has done this, no one in the tower was particularly subtle about the both of you. To their credit, he doesn't fight it.

The teams have already gotten a headstart, and he doesn't know what to do at a crime scene that he did not cause.

He also knows for a fact that neither of you have read the case file.

"Hmm," you say, kicking at the body with your toe. "Suspicious."

"What?" Bucky asks dryly.

"It appears the victim is...dead."

He stares at you. "That's the fucking game."

"I see," you hum. "As I said. Suspicious. Perhaps the murderer enjoys playing...games."

He closes his eyes. “I forgot how quiet it was when you weren't around.”

“And you hated it.”

“I cleaned the kitchen twice.”

“That’s grief, Bucky.”

He glances at you, expression unreadable. “You think you’re funny.”

“I think I’m observant.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but doesn't quite lift.

Bucky hands you a sheet of paper. “You’re the maid. You found the body.”

“No. You're the maid. You found the body."

"That's not how this works. This is not a negotiation."

Five minutes later Bucky is the maid. He found the body.

Bucky ignores you trying to lift the thing with one foot.

"Mr. Long was found by his maid, Ms. Bennett, when she came to work," he reads out dryly. "She says to the police, 'Gee''-"

And then he stops.

You raise an eyebrow. "What does she say?"

"I don't know, there's, like fifteen typos on this thing." He squints. "'Gee howdy, well I walked in and he was on the floor, cold as a slice of pie..that was left in the refrigerator'."

"Things that are famously cold." You nod. "Read it again. Put a little drawl into it. Gee howdy."

"No."

“Read it again. Commit.”

“No.” He folds up the paper. "Did you find any clues?"

"None. Where is the chalk?"

"Chalk?"

"I want to outline his body," you tell him.

"That is not a real thing that happens."

"But if we work together, we can live in a world where it does."

You settle for permanent marker. The team was not going to be happy when they see this.

Either way, he doesn't say anything when you hand the cap to him and start drawing around the dummy. He even tells you you missed a spot.

He doesn't mind that he's paired up with you. You'd showed up at midnight and slept through most of the day, so this was really the first time you were speaking since you'd come back.

Yelena and Ava breeze past on the way to the kitchen, clearly more invested. Someone mentions a footprint.

Bucky doesn't even know the murder victim's full name.

"What the fuck are you doing,” Bucky asks, squinting at your latest addition. "What’s this circle?

"I drew a basketball. He looks like he's playing."

He’s about to argue, but something stops him. Maybe it’s the way your finger traces the imaginary arc of the shot. The line of his jaw knows what that feels like. The thought of it makes him swallow just the briefest amount.

He clears his throat. "What is wrong with you."

"Look at his arm. I'm gonna draw him a basket."

"Stop it. We're supposed to be investigating."

"I already investigated. He's straight up dead, man."

''That's not--"

"RIP for real." You nod solemnly. "No chance of a come back."

"Investigate why he's here."

"Well, this is a dummy, Bucky. He's only here 'cause someone left him like this. I think we ought'a find that fool who left his mannequin out here and give him a real talking to."

He drags a palm down his face. "I don't want to be here. You're making this worse."

"Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this." You pat his shoulder. "What's this guy's name again?"

"I don't know. Mr Long."

"Mr So-Long." You smile wide. "Because he's dead."

He doesn’t argue. Not really. Not in the way that matters.

Bob asks on the group whether everyone's having fun. Everyone replies with various versions of 'yes'. Bob tells them there are no clues outside, and Alexei and John really have no reason to be rappelling down the side of the Avengers Tower.

Eventually, he starts reading the case notes. Finally, you abandon what you're doing and try to pick up on what's actually going on in the case.

You ignore his need for space, leaning into him to read for yourself.

“Why are you so close?” he mutters.

You don’t move. “I can’t read upside down.”

He reads the same line three times in a row. Can’t retain any of it. His brain is occupied with the way your hands are resting lightly on his wrist.

It's ten minutes to nine. Bucky's been trying to solve this on his own for a while now.

Bob, bless him, has tried to give everyone motives, but they don’t quite make sense. A missing cook. A driver who doesn’t show up until page four. A torn photograph. A coffee stain on the calendar. The date of a car accident circled in red.

You sniff the air. "San Marzano tomatoes."

"I'm pretty sure that's what the blood is made with." He continues reading from the notes. They’re sloppily written. Some of the pages are out of order. The names are inconsistent. The clues are vague.

"No," you say. "This was on purpose. This murder was at the hands of an Italian."

“There are no fuckin' Italians on the suspect list," he lies, knowing fully well he has no idea who the other suspects are, or if there are any.

"Fine. What other tomato-forward cuisines do you know?"

Bucky groans. "Let’s just say it was the maid. She poisoned him. Case closed.

"Well, actually Bucky, it's the driver. He took the fall for the crash a few years ago, got blamed for something that wasn’t really his fault. He drops Mr. Long off, follows him inside, kills him with a car key. The wound is something small. Multiple stabs, more than necessary, so it's definitely personal."

He stares at you.

He wonders if you meant the kiss you gave him before you left. He wonders if it meant anything to you. He’s been wondering that all week.

"Oh hey, you guys got it," Bob says, poking his head into the room. "Nice. I'll go tell the others you won."

"It was all Bucky. All I did was draw a chicken with his fingers."

Bucky shakes his head, but it’s with a softness you’ve seen before. Usually when you come back from a mission in one piece. When you make him laugh by accident. When he forgets, briefly, how much he isn’t supposed to want this.

"One more question, Bob," you say, spinning around. "Where was the driver from?"

“Oh, Ricci? Naples. Italian.”

"I fucking knew it."

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

[gukcnt]

01 | SHADOWS OF OBSESSION ⭒ JJK

“You don’t know what ‘people like me’ do, little girl. You don’t know the blood on my hands or the lives I’ve ended. You’re playing with fire, and you’re too damn naive to see it.”

pairing — criminal dom!jungkook x student sub!femreader

genre — criminal au, dark romance, forbidden attraction, enemies to lovers, murderer!jungkook, stalker!jungkook, innocent shy!reader, virgin!reader, medical student!reader, violence, stalking and obsession, contrast of worlds, crime, thriller, smut, angst, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, possessive!jungkook, angry!jungkook, graphic violence, blood and gore, unhealthy obsession, both characters have traumatic backgrounds, dark themes, injury, several mentions of blood, medical procedure, mentions of death and murder, emotional manipulation, smoking, isolation and vulnerability, mild sexual tension, dangerous attraction

wc — 5.3k

a/n — I decided to bring back this series because you all adore it so much, and so do I, absolutely love this couple, and I hope you all will show SOB the same love you gave it before. Love you all !! <3

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The city was alive in the night; the air filled with the smell of trash and the metallic scent of blood.

Jungkook leaned against the wall, his black leather jacket clinging to his broad frame, the hard wall grounding him in a world that had never once shown him kindness. A cigarette between his lips, he exhaled, blowing the smoke out lazily. In his thirty years of life, he has always found himself involved in things related to violence.

Tattoos all over his neck, chest, and arms—all of them a story of his scars, betrayal, and a revenge that ran through his veins. His dark, messy hair fell over his dark eyes that flickered with a cold sharpness.

He was orphaned at ten, raised in the city, and being a street kid has taught him to steal, fight, and survive before he even learned anything about the world itself. The streets were like his mother, who taught him harsh and unforgiving things, also teaching him that trust was a trap and love a lie that blinded people. He had seen several people get betrayed due to their kindness, and such harsh experiences have taken away his own childhood and innocence.

The memory clung to him: when he was sixteen, he had taken his first life—a rival gang member who decided to come at him with a knife. He still felt the spray of blood on his hands and the feel of a dying man’s throat, the way his own heart had pounded not with fear but with power.

Now, years later, his name was a whisper of fear in everyone’s mouth, his frame moving like a shadow through the city, a criminal now who lives for himself and no one else, his heart long gone and made of stone now due to his hope being taken away. Redemption wasn’t something he believed in at all; he thought it was a lie. All he had in his life was his revenge, which burned every time he got a new scar or got into a fight for blood.

Tonight, that need burned further. His latest deal with a rival has gone to shit, a betrayal that left him with a bullet in his arm and a fresh urge to use his own knife to dig into someone’s flesh. Blood seeped through his fingers as he pressed his hand to the wound. The pain was dull, something he was used to from years ago. But the blood loss was fucking with him—his head was hurting and his vision blurred. He clenched his jaw tightly, with a glare.

“Fucking cowards,” he rasped, voice dripping with venom, “you think you can bury me?”

He flicked his cigarette to the ground; the alley he was in stank, and even though his mind was fogging, he scanned the area sharply, high on alert. His enemies were out there searching for him.

“Come on then,” he sneered, his eyes dark, “I’m right fucking here.”

But his body was betraying him. His knees buckled, and he had to grip the wall for support. Blood dripped even faster now, pooling on the dirty ground. He needed to move and find a place to treat his wound. His hands tightened around the knife in his pocket that was always there, always supporting him at rough times more than anyone ever did.

“I’m not dying tonight,” he growled, “not until I have buried every one of you.”

۶ৎ

Across the city, your calm world couldn’t have been more different. At twenty-two, you were a medical student; that’s why your life is a mix of late-night study sessions with textbooks and your own thoughts. Your tiny apartment was a haven for you. Its walls were cream-colored, with curtains that swayed with the breeze. Your bookshelf was full of several novels and medical books. You were shy, an introvert, your voice a soft murmur, only rising when you had no choice. Your world was gentle, fragile, nothing compared to the brutality of Jungkook’s life.

You were orphaned at fifteen, and you have learned to live life alone, your heart bruised, but it kept you going. Your parents died from a car crash, with no other family of yours to lean on. You filled the ache and emptiness in your heart with dreams of becoming a doctor. You wanted to heal; fix others' wounds even when your own still ached.

You were innocent in a way Jungkook could never grasp, your eyes always bright with hope and your heart too soft and open despite all it endured. You shied away from the crowds and found peace in books over people and blushed or felt embarrassed at even the smallest attention. Your days were always simple, following through the same routine: classes, study, and nothing more.

Tonight you were walking home after class, tired to the bone. Your backpack is heavy against your shoulders, stuffed with books and notes. Your mind was already thinking of your bed and cozy blankets. The street was still, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and a distant traffic noise.

Your heart felt light, with a rare flicker of happiness—the exam went well today, which you had been preparing for an entire week, a small win in your life.

You hummed softly, your steps quickening as you neared your apartment. Your hand digging in your bag to bring out your keys

“Almost home,” you murmured, a habit from years of talking to yourself. The thought of sinking into your warm blankets, forgetting about the world, brought you peace.

Then, a shadow moved, almost subtly but enough to make your heart jump. You froze, fingers clutching the keys tight. Your eyes darted to the alley across the street, and there he was. A tall, broad man, his muscles bulging from how tightly his jacket hugged him. His right hand gripped his left arm; blood dripped slowly, staining his hand in the process as well. The sight hit you, with the air carrying the sharp smell of blood.

You gasped silently, a trembling sound slipping out before you could stop it as you felt fear gripping your chest. The man still hasn’t noticed you yet. Your heart pounded loudly, your legs screaming to run to bolt for your apartment and lock the door before the man can even get a small glance of you. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a nightmare.

A whimper lodged in your throat as the man slowly lifted his head, his eyes—dark with a mix of something wild—locked onto yours, and it was like you were caught by a predator. You couldn’t breathe, your body no longer your own, just from his simple stare. He was danger in human form, and every instinct screamed for you to flee.

But then you saw it—the sway of his body as blood oozed out from his fingers, and the sight twisted something inside you, a small flicker of sympathy in between your fear. He wasn’t just dangerous—he was dying.

Your mind was a mess. Run. Lock the door. Call the cops. He will kill you. But another voice spoke inside you: he’s bleeding out, you can help him, and you’re almost a doctor.

You breathed shakily as your hands shook. You decided to take a hesitant step forward and then another, each one a battle against the fear in your heart. You stopped several feet away, close enough to see the way his chest heaved with shallow breaths, sweat beading his forehead, but far enough to run if he lunged. The distance was nothing close to a shield, useless against a man like him.

“Hey,” you called with a trembling voice, barely heard in the night’s silence, “you’re hurt. Badly. You need help.”

His head snapped up with narrowed eyes, and he scoffed with a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine. “Mind your fucking business, girl,” he rasped, his voice thick with pain and venom.

“Go home and play with your dolls.” The words stung as heat crept up your neck. You weren’t a child, but his tone made you feel small, like a little mouse.

Normally, you’d shrink from rudeness, but the blood—God, the blood—held you there. It was starting to pool at his feet until all you could smell was the metallic scent and a hint of cigarette smoke. He was hurting, and you couldn’t walk away. Not from this

“I’m a medical student,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even though it trembled slightly, “you’ve been shot. You’re losing too much blood. You’ll die without help.”

His lips quirked as his eyes flickered with something sharp and amusement, “You think I give a shit about dying, little girl?” He said, his voice amused, “I’ve been dead for years. Walk away before you join me.”

His threat made your breath catch as your nails dug into your palms. His words were not just a warning but a promise, and you believed him. He could snap you like a stick, and no one would know.

But you saw the tremor in him, the way his fingers slipped, blood flowing faster, and it kept you rooted to your spot. You were shaking, but you couldn’t leave him, not when you could help him. Your knowledge and hands could stop the life draining out of him.

“I live right here,” you said, pointing towards your apartment, your voice firm in a way you never thought was possible. “I have supplies. I can stitch you up and stop the bleeding. Please… let me help you.”

He stared at you with his heavy gaze, almost like he was stripping you open and bare. His black eyes were pulling you in, and you almost thought he’d grab you and end you right there. You held his stare despite your heart pulsing loudly and goosebumps erupting all over your arm.

Then he laughed, a harsh mocking sound that filled the night, bitter and broken, like he was laughing at the absurdity of you.

“You’re fucking insane,” he said, shaking his head. “Stupid or suicidal, I can’t decide. Fine, princess. Lead the way, but don’t cry when you regret it.”

The words were a dare that caused you dread at the pit of your stomach. You nodded, barely, and with a shakiness you turned towards your door, your keys trembling as you unlocked it. His large presence was behind you, and you wondered if you’d just invited death into your home.

۶ৎ

Your hands shook as you opened the door of your apartment. The air inside was warm, mixing with the scent of the lavender candle you’d left burning. His heavy boots hit the floor with each step. You flicked on the light, your room a soft world of light colors and pink pillows, a stark contrast to the man standing in its center. His blood started dripping onto your rug, staining it.

“Sit,” you whispered, pointing to the soft couch.

Your heart was racing, and you wondered if he could hear how hard your heart was pounding or if he could smell the fear and stubbornness inside you. He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he obeyed and sank down onto the couch with a grunt as blood smeared the couch. You winced, your tidy instincts pricking, even now.

You hurried to your bedroom. Your medical kit was under your bed, packed with tools—antiseptic, bandages, and other items all neatly arranged. Your hands shook as you pulled it out, carrying it back to the living room.

Your mind was screaming that you were crazy to let this man inside your house—this bleeding, dangerous stranger. You, the girl who flinched at loud voices and who loved to stay alone, were ignoring every instinct to help him.

He watched you return, his gaze heavy, tracking all your movements as you tried your best not to meet his eyes because you were already trembling. You knelt before him, the rug under your knees, and set the kit on the table. The air was thick and silent. You opened the kit as your fingers moved carefully, bringing out bandages, tweezers, and other necessary things.

“Why the hell do you have all this?” He asked, his voice as always carrying that mocking edge but with a hint of curiosity, “Are you some kind of wannabe surgeon, playing doctor in your pretty little apartment?”

You kept your eyes on the tools, your cheeks pinking at his words as you nibbled your bottom lip, a nervous habit that caused Jungkook’s nostrils to flare instinctively.

“I’m a medical student.” You uttered quietly, even though it wavered slightly, “I need those for practice and to learn.”

He snorted, “Of course you are. Little Miss Perfect saving lives with her pink things. You think you’re going to fix the world, don’t you?”

Your fingers paused, his words cut deeper than you realized, hitting the hope you held that was the dream of healing a world you barely knew. You didn’t answer, focusing on his wound, his skin warm and rough.

The bullet had torn through his shoulder, leaving his flesh raw and bloody. You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting as you wondered, how did he end up in such a situation? Was he a victim, or did he do something to get shot? Your inner thoughts hinted at the second option. You shook your head, setting the thoughts aside, focusing on his wound, your training kicking in.

The room felt smaller as you worked; the walls felt like they were pressing in. You cleaned his wound, wiping away the blood, which revealed the damage. You grabbed the tweezers, your hands steady despite your chest pulsating, and leaned closer with a shallow breath. His arm was all muscle, veins bulging under his inked skin, and your lips parted unknowingly.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet yet dark, making your skin prickle, “helping someone like me. You don’t know what I am, what I’ve done. You’re too soft, too…”

He paused before talking again, “Innocent, and the world’s going to eat you alive, and you’re out here patching monsters.”

The tweezers hovered above his wound, his words sinking in. You lifted your head, locking eyes with him. His irises were nearly black, burning with an intensity that stole your breath.

“Maybe it will,” you whispered, “but I can’t just walk away when someone is bleeding like this, not when I can help.”

He laughed bitterly, “You’re going to regret that, sweetheart. Kindness like yours doesn’t ever end well. You think you’re saving me, but you are just calling danger your way.”

The words hurt, but you pushed them aside, focusing on his wound. You dug the tweezers into his flesh, searching for the bullet. He didn’t flinch, his face remaining blank; his lack of reaction surprised you. A reminder of how different he was, how hardened by a life you couldn’t imagine

His eyes never left you, watching your trembling fingers, the flush on your cheeks, and the way your lips parted as you focused. It was as if he was memorizing you, his gaze burning through you as a knot tightened in your stomach.

The candlelight painted his face with a soft glow, catching all the sharp angles and a faint stubble that you can see now that you are so close to him.

You found the bullet, small and glinting, and pulled it out as more blood oozed out. You quickly put pressure on the wound to stop the blood flow, and the contact sent a spark through you, sharp and unsettling. His arm was warm, and you pulled back quickly, your cheeks warming.

“You’re shaking,” he said lowly with a growl, “scared of me, aren’t you? You should be”

You swallowed, your throat dry, and focused on stitching his wound. “I’m not scared,” you whispered, knowing very well that you were lying. “I just… want to help.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make you jump, “you’re terrified. I can see it in your eyes and the way you’re shaking. You don’t even know me, and yet here you are letting me bleed all over your little apartment. Why? What’s wrong with you?”

Tears brimmed your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let him see. “Nothing wrong with me,” your voice cracked. “I just believe in helping people. Even someone like you.”

“People like me?” He leaned closer, his face just a few inches away from yours, his breath fanning against your lips, smelling of cigarettes and something so uniquely him. “You don’t know what ‘people like me’ do, little girl. You don’t know the blood on my hands or the lives I’ve ended. You’re playing with fire, and you’re too damn naive to see it.”

Your heart pounded; his words terrified and hurt you even more, but you refused to pull away, your own confidence shocking you. You met his gaze with wide, glistening eyes, “But I’d rather be naive and help than hurt someone.”

He went quiet after that, his eyes searching yours, his own mind full of confusion because he wasn’t used to such innocence and fragility. Then he leaned back, with a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

You finished the stitches, your fingers quick despite your racing thoughts, and wrapped his arms in a bandage. Your hands lingered too long, his heat soaking through you, and you pulled back with a racing heart.

You stood, legs shaky, and grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen. When you handed it to him, your fingers brushed his, rough and calloused, and you nearly dropped the glass, a gasp escaping.

“You need to rest,” you said, avoiding his eyes, your voice barely audible. “Moving too much will tear the stitches. You’ll bleed again.”

He didn’t answer, just stared, his expression unreadable as his fingers curled around the glass. You felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, heavy and pressing into you. You mumbled something about getting a blanket, your voice tripping. You fled to your bedroom with pink cheeks, your heart pounding. The door clicked shut, but it did nothing to block out his eyes or his voice, the way he’d filled your space with a threat you couldn’t name.

۶ৎ

The first light of dawn crept through your curtains. The air was heavy with the lingering smell of antiseptic and blood, a reminder of the stranger who’d invaded your quiet world. You lie in bed, your body still, breath shallow, thinking any sudden movement will bring the man back from the darkness. Sleep didn’t come to you easily last night; your heart was pounding the entire night, caught between fear and a strange warmth you couldn’t place, something that made your skin prickle.

His rough touch felt like it still lingered on your fingers, his dark, almost black eyes still haunted you, those eyes that seemed to see through you, into you, almost unraveling secrets you didn’t know you kept.

You clutched the sheets tightly; it grounds you against your thoughts. Your mind replayed his low mocking voice that made your stomach twist. “Kindness gets you killed, little girl.” The words echoed, and you wondered if he was right that your softness is a weakness that will eventually get you into danger.

Finally, you couldn’t stay in bed any longer. You swung your legs over, your bare feet hitting the floor. Your faded baby blue sleep shirt clung to your frame. You crept towards the living room, each step slow and cautious, your heart pulsating so loudly that you were sure it would betray you if he was still here.

The living room glowed softly in the morning light. Your eyes darted to the couch, and breath caught in your throat. It was empty. The stranger was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, leaving no traces of him, almost like he was a part of your dream you’d woken up from. The only proof of his presence is the blood-soaked rug and the blanket you’d given him; it was folded neatly, as if he’d meant to erase his presence himself.

You stood frozen, your fingers twisting your shirt in order to ground yourself. The silence was too loud, and you should’ve been relieved—he was gone, you were safe. But a strange ache settled in your chest, something unnamable. It wasn’t just fear, not entirely. It was the ghost of his presence, the way he’d filled your little space with danger and threat, leaving you both shaken and alive.

“Who are you?” you croaked, your voice breaking the quietness. The question hung there, unanswered. Why was he shot? Was he a criminal or a murderer? The thought sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps erupting.

You’d been reckless, letting him in without a second thought. Your need to help had blinded you to notice the danger. And yet the memory of his intimidating presence, dark eyes, and inked skin made your cheeks flame. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your hands to your face, wanting it to go away, but it stayed against your will.

You sank onto the couch; it was still warm from where he’d been, his scent lingering—cigarette and something darkly masculine like him that made your pulse quicken.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself. “He could’ve killed you. He could’ve…” Your words trailed off, imagining his hands, calloused and tattooed, around your throat. But instead of fear, the thought sent a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, and you hated yourself for it.

You stood, needing to move, to shake off his spell. You paced the living room frantically. The blood on the rug is a constant reminder of his presence. You grabbed a sponge and cold water from the kitchen and scrubbed the stain. Your movements were desperate, your breaths coming out in shaky gasps.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you chanted, tears pricking your eyes. You didn’t know if you were crying for your naivety or for the stranger and the way his absence left you feeling hollow.

When the stain was as faded as possible, you sat back on the floor, your chest heaving with your pants. The room felt too big, too empty. You hugged yourself, seeking comfort.

“He’s gone,” you whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it real, erase the memory of him, the gravel of his voice, and his intense eyes. “He’s gone, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

But you weren’t fine. You felt exposed, like he’d peeled all your layers and seen the soft, trembling thing beneath. You stood up on shaky legs, moved to the window, and pulled back the curtains. The street was quiet, no sight of him, gone with the night. But everything in your place proved that he’d been real, that you’d touched the edge of something dangerous and lived.

“Why did I do it?” You whimpered, “Why didn’t I just walk away?” You pressed your forehead to the glass, your breath fogging it. You’d always been the good girl, the one who helped and believed in healing. But now that belief felt like a curse that could’ve cost you everything, even your own life. And yet, the thought of him bleeding alone, dying—it twisted something inside you, something that said that you’d do it again, even now.

You turned away from the window, body restless with an energy you didn’t understand. You needed to study and focus, reclaiming the quiet life you are so used to. But your eyes caught the blanket and the rug again. He was gone, but he’d left a mark, a question that burned your chest. Who was he? And why, despite everything, did you hope to see him again?

۶ৎ

Jungkook’s world was full of edge, a place full of spilled blood and betrayal, where trust was a debt paid in bodies. But you—you were a soft, maddening intrusion he couldn’t cut away. He tried to push you away in his chaotic life, to forget your memory under the weight of his revenge. He hunted his enemies through the city, his gun heavy and a knife in his pocket.

But no matter how many bodies he killed, your face lingered—your wide, innocent eyes, the way your hands trembled as you stitched his wound. It drove him crazy, a memory he couldn’t break, pushing him deeper into his own darkness.

He soon started watching you, not by choice but by need, like a starving man drawn to you. The city at night would hide him as he stood across from your apartment, a cigarette between his lips. He would lean against a lamppost, exhaling smoke. His muscles would twist as well, his tattoos itching as if they felt your presence as well and how they affected him.

Your routine became his obsession. At 7:30 am, you’d leave the apartment, backpack over one shoulder. Your hair, often loose, as you tucked it behind your ear, a habit of yours that Jungkook learned. He memorized the way you paused while walking, your lips moving slightly as you talked to yourself; he noticed even the simplest detail.

By 8, you were at the university, getting into the lecture halls where he couldn’t follow, though he pictured you there, bent over a notebook, with a pen or pencil between your lips when you were in deep concentration, that act of yours that tightened his jaw and always boiled his blood enough to kill a man.

Evenings, you would always visit the library. He’d linger outside watching you read with your head down, pink lips moving as you read the words, that tongue peeking out sometimes when you licked your lips, his cigarette crumbled in his tight fist at the sight

Other times, you’d stretch, your sweater riding up to reveal a small bit of the soft skin of your waist. It was a reminder of your vulnerability, how fragile you were, and it made his blood boil with a mix of protectiveness and possession. He hated it—hated you for being so breakable and unaware of the constant danger around you, the one that was stalking you.

Fridays were his favorite. You’d stop at the campus café, walking in. You always ordered the same thing; he memorized that as well—iced tea and a strawberry pastry. You would drink the tea contentedly, sitting by the window, hands wrapped around your mug.

Once you licked icing from the cake off your thumb, your tongue quick, Jungkook snarled from where he stood. He wanted to barge in, to wipe that sweetness off your lips himself, to taste the sugar and you on his tongue as well. The thought was sharp and dangerous, and he forced it away, his teeth grinding.

“Why can’t I stop?” he muttered, his voice a growl. “You’re nothing. Just a girl. A fucking distraction.”

But you weren’t. You were like a poison, one he craved even if it would kill him eventually. He learned everything about you. Your favorite books—romance novels and your thick medical textbooks. Your scent—floral lotion, sweet and clean, always clinging to the air in your space along with your clothes and blankets.

The way you blushed, the rare softness of your laughter that angered him wanting to see it often—he craved it even though it felt like a gift he didn’t deserve. How you hummed softly when you cooked, a melody that he always strained to hear even from outside your window. He hated how you made him weak, how you made him want to see you happy, make you smile, and the things he’d sworn off completely from his life.

He was jealous of everything, jealous of anyone you even glanced at, even though it didn’t mean anything. His hands twitched towards his knife, wanting to kill and carve out the flesh of the male professor you had or the guy who helped you carry your bags that day.

You didn’t interact with a lot of people in general, so he held back. During his time of stalking, he realized exactly how much self-control he had else he would have been on a killing spree of any males who even dared to breathe near you, and that included items you wore or touched; yes, he was fuming towards even those, because even such items didn't deserve your touch. He was going crazy, his own possessiveness towards you angering him, but he cannot stop it, even if he wants to.

He also knew that you were alone, no family, your parents dead, and your life was only held by small dreams. It pissed him off at how exposed you were, how easily the world could crush you. He could crush you. The thought was a dark temptation, one he fought every time he saw you.

He watched you from everywhere possible: alleys, rooftops, a presence and a shadow of someone you felt but couldn’t see. You often felt your skin prickle and goosebumps arise all over your body from the feeling of constantly being watched. You’d pause sometimes, your movements pausing, your eyes scanning the darkness, feeling the weight of someone’s stare, brow furrowed

He'd hold his breath, blending into the darkness, his heart pounding—not from fear, but from the pull you had on him without realizing.

“Look at me,” he’d rasp quietly, his voice rough with longing and hate. “See me, damn it!”

۶ৎ

One night, he’d learned about your student loans, the debt that kept you up at night, your window open for him to see as you stared at the bills. He saw the way your shoulders slumped, eyes welling with unshed tears.

It was a weakness he couldn’t ignore, a crack to a part of him he’d buried a long time ago. The next day, without thinking, he acted. He left an envelope on your doorstep stuffed with an insane amount of cash, your name written in his sharp handwriting. The bills were blood money from his world. He told himself it was a debt repaid for the night you saved him.

But when he saw you find the money, your eyes wide, fingers trembling as you counted the bills, he felt a twist in his chest, a sick pride, and a hunger to see that look on your face again.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” He hissed, watching you from a distance, the envelope pressed to your chest as tears of gratefulness streamed down your face, “You’re going to ruin me, and I’ll ruin you back.”

He kept doing it, leaving cash when you weren’t home, each stack a claim, tying you to him. He’d watch you use the money, paying your rent and loans. Your eyes are bright with relief but full of confusion.

“Who are you?” You’d whisper to yourself, voice soft and trembling as you clutched the money in your hands. The softness of your voice made his fists clench.

“I’m your fucking shadow, princess,” he wanted to say, the words stuck in his throat, “and you’re mine.”

As time went by, his obsession grew, a beast fed by every glimpse of you. “I don’t need you,” he snarled, his voice loud in the empty alley, “I don’t need anyone.”

But he did. He needed you something fierce, and it was a truth he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much blood he spilled. You were his weakness, his obsession, and he was a man drowning in it, watching you from afar, his soul in a war he couldn’t win.

────

taglist: @minewlove @wintaemoonjen @chaelvrx @nanisblogg @slutology00 @kelsyx33 @furioustrashlover @jjeonjjk7 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @asyr97 @ttanniett @yunhoswrldddd @jeonzll @endlesslysassy @elmarimochi9513 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lisax-30 @moodytangerine @taetaecatboy

[cupcakefactory]

How all the boys would propose to us/mc? I just know they would all be romantic, but, how would each one do it in your opinion?

Ohh! This is so cute?? I love love fluffy shit like this~ I hope this was too your liking Anon <3 Thank you so much for requesting meeee <3

Pairings: Xavier x You, Rafayel x You, Zayne x You, Sylus x You, Caleb x You

The LADS Lovers: @hiqhkey

Warnings: FLUFFY, Marriage proposals (obviously), all of them may be a little OOC sorry :(, spoilers for Xaviers spring time card, hints to Rafayels myth and a little of my own headcanons in there, Mentions of Zaynes evol being an ass, Dragon myth spoilers , Colonel Myth spoilers, set in the future

WC (approx): 1k , 1k , 950 , 1k , 975

XAVIER:

Xavier is someone who is quiet in every aspect of his life, from his work to his love for you – its all quiet. He loves you so much that it causes actual pain in his chest, but he didn’t dare show you off; he didn’t dare let the public see you. You were his after all, the reason he left his home behind, you were the reason Xavier saw another spring – someone that once he had his hands on, he didn’t even dream of letting go of.

Xavier had thought about marrying you on Philos, of course, he never got the chance to back then – being a prince held a weight on his shoulders that he couldn’t shake, and, he didn’t dare bring you under his father’s eyes, too scared of what he would do to you if he saw you again. Instead, he loved you silently, daydreaming about a life when he could marry you, and now he had that. You were right in front of him – he could touch you, kiss you, love you without fear of losing you to power a planet.

All to say, from the moment you agreed to be his girlfriend, Xavier was planning everything, measuring your finger every night to make sure he had to correct size, jotting down when your fingers got puffy during the month, and when they settled back down. Everything had to be perfect, even if that meant buying more than one ring to make sure it always fit you. You always had to wear his claim, to show other men (and plushies.. and bread..) that you belonged to him and him alone.

When it came to actually proposing, Xavier had never been so nervous. He didn’t doubt for a second that you loved him as much as he loved you – he saw it in the little things you did for him; letting him lie his head in your lap to nap, bringing him meals when he forgot to eat, remembering all his favourite foods.

--

It was a warm spring day when Xavier messaged you randomly asking to meet. You didn’t think too much of it – you had been working long missions recently, pulled away for days at a time by Captain Jenna, so naturally your boyfriend wanted to see you as much as you wanted to see him. Normally, Xavier would join you, but since you started dating, you noticed your missions were sometimes assigned separately, you couldn’t recall ever getting distracted watching him fight, but it must have happened more than once to have you both split up like this, by Jenna.

The weather was stunning when you met him at the bottom of your apartment complex, dressed more formally than normal and looking a little too anxious. He couldn’t meet your eyes as you walked side by side, discussing simple and easy things like the weather and the recent missions you both went on. Even when he was being weird, Xavier felt like home, he felt comforting in the best possible way – he drew you in and made all your worries melt away by just being him.

Time seemed to pass too quickly, and before you had even registered it, you were in the forest where you both had planted your flowers. The trees blocked the worst of the sun from reaching you both, making the track a little more pleasant to walk across, the smell of fresh grass and oak making you sigh in contentment. It really was like a small bit of heaven on earth here, and sharing it with Xavier made it all the better.

You darted ahead when you saw the familiar clearing, to examine the flowers that were now starting to bloom in full force, the original ones you had planted on his birthday, as well as all the ones you had added to it over the years. It looked like something from a children’s book, so bright and full of life – you were so distracted, so lost in your own world that you didn’t hear the slight rustle of grass behind you.

Xavier had watched how you examined each flower carefully, how you pulled dead leaves from stems and straightened petals with the most gentle of smiles. You looked at peace here, and it made his heart beat faster – before he had even registered what he was doing, he was on one knee, just waiting for you to turn around, hand holding the velvet box like it was the most delicate thing in the world at that moment.

And when you turned?  Your reaction was everything he had hoped for and more, surprise and love shining in your eyes, hand flying to your mouth as you took a step back, careful not to stand on a flower, you didn’t even give him time to ask before you were nodding, throwing yourself into his arms and causing you both to tumble into the ground with laughter. Xavier never loved you publicly, or loudly, but in moments like this – you had never felt more cherished.

RAFAYEL:

Rafayel had been here before, marrying you, that is, albeit back then, he didn’t know how good he had it. He didn’t know what he had until he had lost it – and once it was gone, he wanted it back badly. He craved your touch, craved the way your hand felt in his, and how you fell asleep against him. It felt foreign not to have you by his side, even if you had only been together for such a short time.

When he found you in this timeline, he was overjoyed; he had waited this long to find you in a normal world where he could love you freely. Was it weird to have lured you to his home? Maybe, but Rafayel was desperate for you – he knew by now you wouldn’t remember him, but that didn’t matter, you could learn to love him again, and he would make sure of it! He had waited this long; what was a few more?

When you finally loved him again, and you both started to date, it felt like life was finally right. The guilt of letting his people die didn’t push as hard against his chest when he held you in his arms, his mind rarely wandered when he got to paint you, and he found himself excited to get up in the mornings because it meant he could speak to or see you. Naturally, as your relationship progressed, the talk of marriage started – and he found himself bubbling with both anxiety and excitement at the prospect of seeing you at the altar again. He didn’t dodge the question or subject, but he did seem to delay it a little until he found what he was looking for, pushed in the back of a closet.

When he finally found it and presented it to you, his hesitation made sense, it was a glass jar full of rings, of every type, size, style and made from every material he could get his hands on. Each one radiated his love, his care for you, and he seemed quite proud of them.

“Pick which one you want.”

A simple request that led to hours on the floor together sorting through them, the metal you wouldn’t wear was shortlisted first, followed by the style you didn’t like, until finally you landed on your dream ring. It was perfect, and the fact that he had made it? You couldn’t help but gleam, holding it up before it grabbed it from your grasp.

“What? Oh, cutie, this isn’t how I’m going to propose to you!”

--

You had almost forgotten about the day spent sorting rings in his studio, he waited so long. The first couple of dates after the fact, you were sure he was going to ask, anxiety bubbling in your throat until by the end of the night, you had parted ways (or not 😉), still just boyfriend or girlfriend. It was classic Rafayel, really; he didn’t want to make his intentions obvious, yet it was killing him to have to wait.

It was summer when his patience ran out. At one of his art shows, Thomas had prepared and then begged you to convince him to attend. Watching you mingle and talk to the other guests with such ease and confidence that he knew he had to ask you to marry him tonight.

You loved these, loved looking at all the art and talking to people who appreciated your loves work as much as you did, keeping your identity secret to not be bombarded with questions – if that was even possible when you had Rafayel basically attached to your hip the whole time, following you around like a toddler and telling you about each art piece he made, even if you were then from start to finish.

Rafayel loved sharing his passion with you, and you loved listening to him talk with pride in his voice. You never got bored of it, never got bored of the way his mismatched eyes lit up and his hands flayed around excitedly.

By the end of the day, you were exhausted, the type of exhausted you couldn’t really complain about. Your head hurts from all the bright lights inside the venue, and your feet ache from the hours of walking you've done.

You sat side by side on the beach, hands holding each other’s as you watched the ocean, the gentle lull of the waves therapeutic to you both after the hours you’d spent socialising. Neither of you felt it necessary to talk; you just basked in the presence of the other, in the smell of salt and sand, in the gentle chirp of seagulls as they flew overhead.

Watching the sea with him was always magical, the stories he could tell felt endless – the world he had lived in before all this felt more like a fairytale, but you knew once it was his reality – seen evidence of that on every Ebb day you had spent caring for him by his side. You wondered once if he missed it, you asked him, and he just laughed, kissing your head and telling you that you were a gift that made it all worth it.

You felt the metal in your palm as you sat there, cold yet familiar – you didn’t even need to look down to know what it was. You knew he was asking without words, making a statement after such a chaotic day that you were his safe place. You rest your head on his shoulder with a nod, keeping the ring in your grasp until you stood to leave and only then did you let him put it on.

ZAYNE:

For all Zayne knew, this was the first timeline he had known, and in turn loved you in. He loved you with all he was; he loved you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. From reading together in your middle school library, to running after him in high school, to losing touch and refinding each other in adulthood. Your lives had always been intertwined in a way, and Zayne was glad as adults, he could hold you and love you without restraints.

Marriage wasn’t something that Zayne thought about straight away, he enjoyed the way your relationship was – gentle and easy going. You supported each other in everything you both did - your missions and his travels. It was only after you had been together for a while, he realised he wanted to marry you. He had walked into his home after a tiring trip, working in Skyhaven with patience that needed his specialities, to see you asleep on his sofa. Soup was bubbling on the stove, freshly made and smelling delicious, and he could see macarons on the counter.

 You knew everything about him, all the little things he loved and craved after the trip he had. It was then he knew he wanted you as his bride – his parents adored you, everyone in his workplace that he interacted with every day already treated you both like a married couple. Really, it was just a formality, paperwork, but god did Zayne want it now. He didn’t care about the issues surrounding his Evol, the pain didn’t matter if he got to call you his wife. Call you his in every what way.

Getting your ring size was easy, scarily easy actually – he was your doctor after all. A simple “test” he needed to check your heart's condition that coincidentally involved a medically made ring? Oh – it was such a shame he needed to take the measurements! You didn’t think a thing of it, why should you? He had been your doctor long before he was your boyfriend; you knew your physical health was important to Zayne and that he would do anything to make sure you stayed in the best health, so you gave him whatever he asked for.

You completely forgot about it, to be honest, which Zayne was more than glad about because the medical ring he told you about didn’t exist, and he wasn’t too sure how he was going to make one materialise. Instead, he went to every jewellery store in Linkon, Skyhaven – even the towns he worked in, until he found the perfect ring for you. Something that would always remind you of him.

--

It was winter when you met for one of your scheduled dates, you had them pencilled in well in advance – at least every 2 weeks, you both met, no excuses and no cancellations. You both looked forward to it and took it in turns to pick and arrange something for you both to do. Sometimes it was a hike, other times it was just watching a movie around one of your homes – the activity didn’t matter as long as you were together.

This time it was Zayne's time to pick an event, and he just texted you instructions to wear something nice, not too fancy but enough. You had no idea what this meant, but you picked an outfit you knew Zayne enjoyed seeing you in and waited outside his apartment until his car pulled up.

The restaurant was small, but one you recognised. It wasn’t the first time you both had come here. Zayne enjoyed the desserts, and you found comfort in the familiarity, so a good handful of your dates were inside these four walls. You sat at the table you always sat at, the familiar smell of alcohol and home cooked meals hitting your nose and making you sigh in contentment. Zayne loved that sound, how relaxed you seemed in this atmosphere, and how happy you seemed.

Your conversations came naturally over meals, he didn’t seem nervous in the slightest, instead, he entertained the questions you asked about his latest trip, telling you as much as he legally could. You told him about your missions and reassured him that no, you weren’t overdoing it – you were taking care of yourself, and any cuts or scrapes you did get were taken care of by a professional and not ignored like they would have done previously.

The evening was normal, everything he had hoped for, of course, he was nervous, but he was able to hide it well behind well-timed hums and eating when his brain couldn’t come up with an answer. He knew you didn’t notice, Zayne was good at wearing a mask and although he didn’t go it around you anymore this felt like a situation you would let him off this time.

It was when the desert came that he started to worry a little more. If his Evol was acting up, he wouldn’t have known from how much his hands were sweating. He felt the ring box in his pocket, pushing against him uncomfortably whenever he shifted. He waited for you to take your first bite before he started to talk, a pre-planned speech about everything that had happened between the two of you, how much he loved you.

You froze, fork in your mouth as you watched him talk, eyes wide with surprise and wonder. You didn’t see this coming, you didn’t expect this at all. When he stood and got on one knee in front of you, it felt right, it felt natural. Of course you said yes – he was the best thing that ever happened to you and you wouldn’t turn him down.

SYLUS:

When Sylus finally re found you, he made it his life's mission to marry you as soon as possible. The original plan was to propose to you the moment he found you again, he assumed you still had your memories and were also looking for him. That’s why you went to the nest, right? Because you had heard his name, the name you gave him, the name he kept long after his death and into his new life, so when you heard it, you knew it was him. It broke his heart when you looked at him with fear, without the recognition and relief he had been dreaming of.

So the first plan was a bust, the ring he had been carrying put back in the box and into a safe he wouldn’t let anyone know about, let alone access. If he had to re-earn your heart, then that’s what he would do. He had done it once, so why wouldn’t he do it again?

At first, he tried to rush it, tried to make your memories come back with little acts and words. When that didn’t work, he had to re-evaluate and settle on just rebuilding your relationship from the ground up. He loved you enough to do this, to show you that you loved him as much as he did – your soul must recognize him because you panicked after you shot him, much in the same way you did in another lifetime after you stabbed him.

He didn’t expect to enjoy rebuilding your relationship as much as he did, rediscovering who you were, and you, in turn, discovering who he was. He has missed you badly, your sass, your comments – the way you filled a room with your presence. The way you claimed his home as yours without even noticing you were doing it. He never once doubted you were the girl from his past, when you did things like this, it was like looking through a time portal at times.

It was only when you had been together for a while that the ring he had tucked away, kept hidden this whole time, made a reappearance. He sat in his office staring at it, You were fast asleep – it was nighttime, you had a normal schedule, one of the many things he loved about you, so you were asleep, in his bed, much to his enjoyment. He had dreamt about marrying you, and now he was sure you would say yes to him, he let the excitement of the idea take him over again.

The only issue was, he couldn’t come up with the perfect situation. Nothing felt right for your relationship; it was spontaneous, and that was perfect, so a preplanned date didn’t fit the narrative you had created together. Instead, he decided to carry it around and let the right time find him.

--

The right time was in Autumn, you had called him while rushing around your apartment. He was used to this, and slightly amused but how breathless you sounded as you begged him for help. Sylus had never denied you of anything, and he wasn’t about to start now, especially when you sounded so cute.

You agreed to meet on the edge of the N109 zone, and so he was there first, leaning against his bike as he scrolled through his phone. He looked effortlessly sexy like that, and it wasn’t fair at all how a man could make something so domestic and simple look that attractive. He heard you before you introduced yourself, slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket as he watched you approach.

He let you explain the issue without interrupting, the animated way you waved your hands around as you explained about a wanderer you couldn’t defeat – embarrassingly so. It was getting on your nerves; no matter how many times you approached it, you always left before you could beat it, before it could cause you any serious harm. It infuriated you, and after five times, you gave in and decided to call your boyfriend for help. Maybe he could give you a better gun, he was a weapons dealer after all.

What you didn’t expect was his laugh, the laugh that screamed rich even though he didn’t know it, and the reprimand about not asking him for help sooner. He was your partner after all, in life, yes, but he also wanted to be it on the battlefield if you were that determined not to quit your job and work in the N109 zone for him. He threw your helmet at him, and before you really registered what was happening, he was driving you both through Linkon on the back of his bike to find the monster.

It took a while to find it, you stopped off at a café and got a drink – you phoned Jenna to ask if she could find the location of the creature. He was amused when your boss tried to tell you to leave it, but eventually you got the location and you both headed there. He heard the roar of the wanderer as he parked, and you ran towards it together.

You were right, it wasn’t an easy fight at all, but with Syluss' help and Evol, you were finally able to take it down, finally able to beat the boss you couldn’t and you couldn’t be happier. Jumping into his arms, he realised now was the perfect moment, and he fell to his knee.

At first, you panicked, of course you did, assuming he had got hurt, you started to threat. It was only when he started to laugh at your worry and look up, holding a ring whose gem shone in the sun, did it finally dawn on you what he was doing. You nodded quickly, kissing him in a way he ate up.

Spontaneous and perfect, just the way you liked him.

CALEB:

If you ever asked Caleb how long he had thought about marrying you, he would just laugh and ruffle your hair, avoiding the question because if he had to answer? He would have to admit it was since he was a teenager, maybe around the age of 15, he started to daydream about you in white, walking towards him. He didn’t care if people wouldn’t accept it, because back then, he wouldn’t ever tell you what he desired and dreamt about under the assumption it would never happen. That he could never call you his.

That was until the explosion, when his life changed in every way – his light disappeared. Everything became dark, and so his silly dreams about marrying you simply became figments of the past. Thinking about you was too painful; he loved you too much, and now he couldn’t ever see you again. His dreams were what he always knew they would have to be as a teenager, just dreams.

Until they didn’t need to be, because one fated day, you found your way back to his life and took over in the best possible way. You no longer looked at him as a childhood friend; you became a little shyer, avoiding his gaze with a blush on your cheeks, and when you finally both confessed to each other, he let the daydreams from his childhood start to take shape again.

He already knew what ring he wanted to get for you, and being Caleb, he already knew your ring size, so that wasn’t the issue. It was his own anxiety; he knew EVER was still looking for you, and he wouldn’t dare point a stage light your way to make you their next pawn.

So instead he waited, waited until EVER was no longer a threat, was no longer an issue, and that’s when he let his plan take shape. He found the best jeweller in Skyhaven – taking in a picture he had sketched, erased, and re-sketched hundreds of times until it looked right, and had it made to your size. Once he was sure it was perfect, he started to come up with a way to give it to you.

That turned out to be harder than he originally planned, because every idea he had, every scenario he envisioned, just didn’t seem right. You deserved to best, and Caleb wanted to give it to you somehow.

--

It was summer when you spent the day together, you had spent almost every day together so far this season, with EVER no longer a threat Caleb had been able to take a step back from his Colonel duty and all his spare time was almost gifted to you, not that you complained, you enjoyed his company even if it was only in the evenings when you got home from work.

This time, you decided to go back to Skyhaven. Caleb had some work he had to do, which would be easier from your home office, and then you decided to spend the afternoon at the amusement park you had once gone to together, although now that felt like a lifetime ago.

He rushed through the paperwork, making sure it was done correctly, yes, but he didn’t want to waste any more time than he needed on it, not when the idea of spending time with you was so much more enjoyable. He finished in record time, and once he was sure there was nothing else left to be done, no more loose ends to be tied up, he met you in his living room, lounging on his couch like you owned the place, and together you walked hand in hand to the carnival.

It was everything you remembered it to be: the laughter of children as they ran around, the sound of adults chattering, and couples both new and old flirting, the smells of sugar from the cotton candy and freshly baked doughnuts filled the air making the already dreamy environment feel even more unreal. You had loved it the last time you brought Caleb here, but now, being officially together and free it felt even more magic.

The day was filled with rides, both those that were scary and those that weren’t, you laughed on a rollercoaster, screeching as you were flung around knowing full well if anything happened you would be safe because of Calebs Evol, you hid yourself into his side on the ghost train when an actor popped out the corner and screamed at you. The carnival games passed in a blur as both of you competed to win, you seemed to take it in turns, and you both ended up walking around carrying a plushie each.

You ate way too much sugar, drank way too much soda, and laughed too hard to the point your stomachs hurt. It was beyond a perfect day, so you were sad when it came to an end – sat opposite Caleb on the Ferris wheel. Hand in Hand, watching Skyhaven down below and pointing out different shops and places you had memories in. He carried you on his back when you got off, letting you doze lightly as he walked the familiar streets, telling you random stories unless you told him to shut up.

He picked up your favourite takeaway, and when you got home, you sat side by side eating it. The plushies you won were with you as well.

That night, as Caleb watched you sleep, he knew there would never be a perfect moment, because in his eyes, you already were perfect. He took the ring from his bedside drawer and carefully slipped it onto your finger before spooning you from behind and falling asleep himself. When you woke up and saw it on your finger, you couldn’t help but smile, turning and kissing him until he woke up.

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[wordsarelife]

—sweeter than fiction

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!hale!reader

summary: stiles finds out you're dereks sister and has to cope with the news lol

warnings: none, just canon typical losers flirting lol

note: just gonna leave this here lmao. this is just a little drabble, but i hope you guys like it!!

“let me just clarify this. when you say brother, you mean…”

“brother”

“…right” stiles nodded. “and that’s like a 100% sure, yeah? no chance of misconduct or—“

“stiles”

"okay, you know what? it's fine" stiles smiled, but did not look even close to being fine. "i mean what's a little relation to derek hale, when there are far worse monsters, right?"

"right." you nodded, trying your best to help stiles calm himself down.

"i mean has he ever talked about me.. to you, i mean?" his gaze narrowed as he searched your face for any hints of rememberance. "i think he likes me."

"well," you paused, trying to think of the time before you had come back to beacon hills and what your brother had said about scott mccall and his idiot friend. "he's definitely mentioned you."

"ha!" stiles called, a victorious smile settling onto his face. his fist swung through the air and just nearly missed you as you swerved to the side quickly. "eh, sorry," he excused. "i'm still getting used to all these new proportions."

"are you talking about puberty?"

"well, it was a hard time for me, okay?" he bit back. "everything happened so quickly. like— like being hit by a bus. but not in a fun way."

"there's a fun way?"

"i—" stiles blinked. "it's definitely more fun than being ripped to shreds by your brother when he finds me here." stiles made a large gesture to signal that he was not supposed to be here. in your room. at night. in the loft you shared with derek.

"why are you emphasizing the word brother like that?" you furrowed your brows.

"ever heard of the phrase 'foreign concept'?" stiles muttered, before he lowered himself onto the bed in front of you. "i mean how is that possible? like biologically?"

"well, when a man and a woman—"

"don't" stiles interrupted. "you're supposed to be serious."

"you're not really serious either, are you?" you crossed your arms and leaned back against the headboard.

"i'm not supposed to be. i'm allowed to fight trauma with the inappropriate use of sarcasm. it's who i am. you shouldn't even be able to detect a joke or crack a smile, considering who raised you." he send a side-eye in your direction before he continued rambling. "and as always it's just my luck that i am hopelessly into someone who's related to derek hale. this is just great—"

"you're hopelessly into me?" you repeated surprised.

"i said someone related to derek hale." stiles corrected. "i could very well be talking about your mother."

"are you talking about my mother?" you repeated with a roll of your eyes.

"nah"

"okay, that's good. because you know she's dead, so your love would be doomed from the start."

"yeah, good argument, actually." stiles nodded repeatedly. "glad we talked about this. now that i've revealed my interest, is there a slight chance— i mean statistically speaking and considering, uh, that i—"

you interrupted promptly, taking his face into your hands and moving him so close, your lips were not far from touching. "you should stop talking."

"uh, yeah, i probably should"

you kissed him—quick, impulsive, no time for words. it was over in a second, but it left both of you breathless, staring at each other, the tension thick in the air.

your eyes wandered over the stunned expression on his face, before you moved closer once more, softly kissing him again.

the door to your room flew open with a bang and you and stiles jumped apart, similiarly surprised at the sudden sound.

your brother was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowing at the scene in front of him and stiles quickly moved his hand away from your thigh, as if derek's stare alone had burned it.

"stiles." derek growled. "you have about five seconds to get your slimy little lips away from my sister before i rip you to shreds."

stiles shot you a look that clearly said "i told you so" before scrambling to his feet and practically bolting out of the loft, not bothering to say another word.

you couldn't help but smile up at your older brother. "oh derek, do you always have to be such a sourwolf?"

derek’s lips twitched into a humorless smirk. “yeah, okay. that’s it. you're officially banned from ever seeing him again.”

[bettelaboure]

⊹The exception⊹ | Felix Yongbok Lee

⊹Pairing: Felix Yongbok Lee x The Reader

⊹Summary: forbidden romance between Stray Kids' Felix and his PR specialist unravels in stolen moments, quiet confessions, and breathtaking intimacy—only to be destroyed by scandal, silence, and the harsh reality of an industry that punishes love

⊹Warnings: suggestive content, emotional heartbreak, workplace romance, power imbalance, public scandal, angst

⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹

You’re hiding in the conference room again. Not hiding from the job—God knows that never ends—but from him.

The book in your hands is supposed to help. Kill Switch is your emotional support blanket, your escape hatch, your "if he’s brooding and emotionally constipated, I can fix him" anthem. But the words blur when the door swings open.

You don’t need to look up. The scent of cologne and smugness announces Felix first.

“You have got to stop claiming rooms like they’re fictional boyfriends,” he says, plopping into the chair across from you with that slow, lazy sprawl like he has nothing but time to kill.

You don’t flinch. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“I booked it,” you say, highlighting a line you’ve already memorized. “Properly. Through the calendar. Like a normal, functioning adult.”

“Sounds exhausting.” He leans in on his elbows. “Want me to teach you how to break the rules instead?”

You finally look up. “Tell me. What’s it like being the human version of a migraine?”

He grins, delighted. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d sue you for emotional damage.”

You bite your lip, hard. Because he’s joking. Of course he’s joking. That’s all Felix ever does—banter and tease and throw gasoline on your carefully lit candles of control.

“Felix, I swear—”

He reaches over and plucks the book from your hands. You gasp, too slow to stop him.

“‘She doesn’t need a hero. She needs a monster. Me,’” he reads dramatically, narrowing his eyes at the page. “Damn. You highlight like it’s a sacred ritual.”

“It is,” you snatch it back. “Romance books are the only place where people actually mean what they say.”

His smirk falters.

You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

The air tightens between you. He leans back slowly, head tilted like he’s trying to see past your PR-perfect exterior.

“You really believe that?” he asks, softly this time.

You hesitate. Then nod.

“In real life, people dodge. They backtrack. They make you feel crazy for needing clarity,” you say. “In romance novels, they fight for it.”

Felix doesn’t say anything for a second. Just studies you like you’re something more complicated than he expected.

Finally, he shifts. “So what are the rules, then?” he says, lighter again. “Romance law, according to you.”

You cross your arms, trying not to smile. “Rule One: Never fall for someone who gets under your skin on purpose.”

His eyebrows lift. “Yikes. That’s rough for me.”

“Rule Two: If he flirts by insulting your favorite things, he’s not the one.”

Felix makes a wounded sound. “Hey! I insult you, not your books. Equal opportunity chaos.”

You shake your head, lips twitching.

“Rule Three,” you say, and here’s where you pause. Because your heart skips—traitorously—when he leans closer. You could count the constellations in his eyes at this distance.

“Don’t fall for someone whose job overlaps with yours. Exception: if he's your rival and the sexual tension is unbearable.”

Felix watches you, the teasing faded, replaced with something quiet and unreadable.

“You always follow the rules?” he asks.

“No,” you admit. “But I try.”

Felix reaches out—hesitates—then tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your breath catches.

“Well,” he murmurs, “if we’re in a romance novel, you know what happens around Rule Three, right?”

You swallow. “What?”

He leans in, lips almost brushing your ear. “The exception happens.”

It takes months.

Months of accidental brushes—his hand grazing yours as you both reach for the same folder, his fingers brushing your waist as he slips past in the narrow hallway. Each contact lingers too long to be just friendly, but never long enough to cross the line.

One night, it’s raining after an award show. You sit together in the backseat of the van, both staring out opposite windows, but your knees touch—and neither of you moves away. When you shiver, he doesn’t ask, just slides off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. You whisper a thank you into the quiet, and he just nods, like it means more than it should.

A late shoot runs over, and everyone else leaves. You’re starving. He returns an hour later with your favorite takeout and a sheepish grin. You eat on the studio couch, cross-legged, teasing each other between bites. When you laugh—really laugh, the kind that scrunches your eyes—he stares for a beat too long.

Then he kisses you.

It’s awkward at first—your lips crash, your teeth knock. But then his hand finds your jaw, cradling it tenderly as your bodies sync. You grab the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him, and the kiss deepens. The air turns molten. When you finally break apart, breathless, neither of you speaks. You don’t need to.

That night, you go home with him.

The air between you is heavy with anticipation, the kind that simmers just below the skin. His hand brushes yours as he unlocks the door, and the touch lingers, hesitant. Once inside, neither of you rushes. You hover near the kitchen counter, nerves jittering in your chest, while he sets down his keys, then turns to face you—his gaze soft, unreadable.

He steps closer, inch by inch, until you feel the warmth radiating off him. His fingers find yours again, intertwining slowly. He raises your joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours.

"Still sure about the exception?" he murmurs, voice husky with something more than want.

You nod, breath shallow. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

He closes the space between you and kisses you—not with heat, but reverence. Like he's memorizing you. His lips move gently against yours, and you melt into it, your hands finding the hem of his shirt. He breaks the kiss only to whisper your name, then kisses you again, deeper this time.

Clothes slip away between soft laughter and quiet gasps. His hands roam carefully, reverently, like every inch of your skin is a secret he’s determined to uncover. He presses his mouth to the hollow of your throat, your shoulder, the curve of your hip. Every touch is slow, deliberate. Worshipful.

When he lays you back on his bed, the dim light casts a golden halo around you. You reach for him, and he comes willingly, settling over you with a gentleness that makes your heart ache. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your collarbone. Whispers your name like it’s a prayer.

"Are you okay?" he asks, forehead pressed to yours.

"Yes," you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair. "I want this. I want you."

His hand finds yours again and pins it softly beside your head as he moves inside you, slow and sure. The world narrows to just the two of you—the rhythm of your breaths, the way he watches your face like he’s watching something sacred. It’s not just physical. It’s a letting go. A giving in. A promise made without words.

You kiss him through the crescendo, and when you both fall apart, it’s with his arms wrapped tightly around you, like he's afraid of what might come next. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, steady beneath your cheek, like the first rhythm you’ve ever trusted.

After that, the moments come easier. Soft mornings tangled in his sheets, your voice reading him chapters from your dog-eared romances. He teases the prose, but his thumb draws lazy circles on your hip under the blanket, and he never misses a word. At night, he tells you his truths—how the idol life feels like a glass box sometimes, how hard it is to always smile. You tell him how exhausting it is to curate perfection.

You fit. You fall. Slowly. Completely.

Then the headlines hit.

Blurry photos. A hotel hallway. Your hand on his chest, his gaze locked to your face like it’s the only thing in the world.

You thought you were careful. You weren’t.

The company reacts instantly. PR crises erupt like wildfires—flashes of headlines, grainy images splashed across gossip columns: STRAY KIDS' FELIX IN LATE-NIGHT ROMANTIC SCANDAL? and MYSTERY WOMAN IDENTIFIED AS COMPANY PR SPECIALIST.

Your inbox becomes a graveyard of panicked messages. Conference calls blur together, each one colder than the last. You're told it’s better for everyone if you leave quietly. That your presence compromises not just him—but the group, the brand.

Felix storms into the last meeting like a force of nature. The door slams behind him, startling the executives mid-sentence. His jaw is clenched so tight you think it might crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"This is bullshit," he growls, his voice rough and barely restrained. "She did nothing wrong. None of this is her fault."

The room falls deathly quiet.

"You knew," he continues, pacing now, wild energy radiating off him. "You knew we were close. You knew we were careful. But the moment a camera catches us in a hallway—just talking, not even touching—you act like we’ve committed a damn crime."

One of the senior execs clears their throat. "Felix, this isn't personal. This is about optics. The group’s image—"

"To hell with the image!" he explodes, slamming a hand on the table. Everyone flinches. His eyes flash dangerously. "We didn’t hide. We weren’t sneaking around. We just… wanted something real. For once."

He turns, gaze scanning the room, daring someone to challenge him. "But I forgot. Real isn’t allowed here, is it? Not if it doesn’t come with a PR plan and a pre-approved script."

No one speaks. Not even you.

Finally, Felix exhales a shaky breath, voice breaking as he says, "She mattered. And you’re treating her like a liability. Like she’s disposable."

His fury quiets then—not gone, but channeled inward, where it hurts more. He looks at you, eyes rimmed red, voice lower now, wrecked. "You mattered. You still do."

Then he walks out. No more words. Just the echo of everything he couldn’t fix.

But even he can't rewrite the rules that have already been carved into stone.

That night—your last—you sit in his apartment in silence. The only light comes from the city outside, casting fractured reflections on the floor. You sip cold tea you don’t taste. He sits beside you, a hand on your thigh, his thumb brushing in slow, useless comfort.

"I’ll say something," he murmurs. "I'll go public. I’ll—"

You turn to him, press a finger to his lips. "And what happens after that? You lose everything you’ve worked for? They spin it worse? Make me the villain?"

He looks at you like he’s already mourning you. "So what? I’ll lose it. I'd still have you."

You kiss him then—hard, aching, like you’re trying to memorize the shape of him before you forget. Your fingers twist in his shirt, dragging him closer until breath and heartbeats blur. He responds in kind, kissing you like a promise and a goodbye all at once.

You undress each other slowly—his hands brushing under your shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his. It's not rushed. It's reverent. Like peeling back the final layer of defense, like unwrapping something precious that neither of you wants to let go of. Each item of clothing falls to the floor with quiet finality, soft thuds in a world that’s suddenly far too silent.

His hands find your skin, warm and trembling, tracing the lines of your shoulders, the dip of your waist, the curve of your spine. You gasp when his mouth follows, pressing kisses in the hollow of your throat, the inside of your wrist, the spot just behind your knee that makes you shiver. You arch toward him, and his breath hitches like he’s trying to memorize the sound you make.

When you finally fall into bed, limbs tangled and hearts racing, he holds you like a question he doesn’t want answered. He moves with care, like your body is a memory he’s carving into his bones. There’s heat, yes—skin slick, breath shallow, the friction of need drawing gasps from both your lips—but it’s the way his forehead rests against yours, the way your fingers clutch at his back, that burns the most.

He whispers your name like a plea and a prayer. And when you come undone beneath him, it’s with his mouth against your shoulder, your hand clutching his, and the aching, quiet knowledge that this is goodbye disguised as closeness.

After, he doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, one hand tracing invisible circles on your back. You bury your face in his neck and breathe him in, memorizing the scent of cologne and sorrow.

Neither of you speaks. You don’t have to.

Not for this.

After, you lie with your head on his chest, fingers drawing lazy spirals on his skin. He doesn’t speak. Just holds you. Just breathes.

Before you go, you place Kill Switch on his nightstand—your copy, the one with the cracked spine and coffee stains and bent pages from nights reading aloud to each other. Inside, tucked between pages 239 and 240, is your note:

She didn’t need a monster. She needed someone to stay.

He finds it the next morning. Sits on the edge of the bed with the book in his hands like it might break. He doesn’t cry—not then.

But when he walks into practice later and sees your old coffee mug still on the table, untouched, he almost does.

He reads the note again that night. And the next. And the one after that.

Like a rule he forgot to follow.

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

[ckret2]

I remember you saying a lot of the characters you'd written for had a common theme of loneliness, is there any common theme between the pairings you like or is it just purely "the chemistry is good" ?

there are sooo many pairings with "good chemistry" that totally bore me lmao. no, i've got specific preferences.

Here's one very very specific ship dynamic that I almost always gravitate toward:

Enter a fandom. Find the most powerful villain (or villain-acting character) in this fandom. They must be completely OP, absolutely self-assured in their power and supremacy, all but unbeatable (unless it's by like the plucky hero or whatever). They are smug. They are confident. Their tag is probably filled with reader insert fics with plots like "y/n is dommed by [character] and calls him daddy." This is the Badass.

Find another character. This character is comparatively pathetic. Oftentimes, the fandom joke is that they could never win a fight. If the fandom isn't loudly proclaiming that this second character would get their ass handed to them by, specifically, the Badass, then it's only because the two of them are on SUCH different power levels that the idea of a fight never enters fans' minds. They may or may not actually be a wimp, but what matters is the fandom (and often, the narrative) sees them that way—at least when compared to the Badass, if not universally. This is the Loser.

Then have the Badass get kneecapped with love for the Loser.

They've gotta fall in love in a way that completely destroys them. It makes them fall from grace. It strips away their godhood. It topples their empire. It steals their power, their prestige, their dignity, their confidence, their sanity. It ruins their life.

The Badass would give up everything for a chance to crawl like a worm at the feet of their beloved Loser. They submit themself entirely to the Loser's will. They are but a sword, a toy, a dog, a piece of trash—whatever they need to lower themself to to be allowed to bask in the Loser's light.

The Loser might not even reciprocate.

This is a difficult ship dynamic to be into because even when the fandom DOES ship Badass/Loser, every one of the fics is like "Loser is dommed by Badass and calls him daddy" and I recoil in disgust.

And here's some other ship dynamics I'm into—borrowed from a couple of prior asks I've gotten here and here so if you wanna see me ramble EVEN MORE, I go more in depth in those two links.

the biggest thing that gets me into a ship is unhealthy obsession. Love to the point of self-destruction. Love past the point of all reason. Love like an addiction, love like a poison.

Forms this takes can include:

a worshiper toward their (personal) god. bonus points if the "god" isn't even that great, the divinity just exists in the worshiper's mind and the "god" kinda sucks (billford's a good example; I actually usually prefer the obsession going the other way around, but there's definitely still shades of this in how I write Ford's POV on Bill)

mutual rabidly codependent toxic obsession (example: comics Venom.)

"knight" obsessively in love with their liege. (canon example: Pearl toward Rose Quartz. headcanon example: Zim toward the Tallest. this is gonna be how i write Scaramouche toward Aku.) This can be extended to ships with similar power dynamics like henchman/villain.

your classic yandere. "I love you so much I had to kidnap you," "stay with me and I'll make you sososo happy, leave and I'll kill us both," "I will proactively murder anyone who likes you before you can like them back," "I will rewrite my entire identity to be perfect for you," "I'm so breathlessly euphoric with love for you that I kind of want to slit my own throat" yandere-yandere. (THE yandere: Yuno Gasai. a personal favorite: IDW Tarantulas toward Prowl.)

perpetually unrequited love. it MUST stay unrequited. if it becomes requited it stops being interesting. it must be quietly agonized over for an eternity. Bonus points if the couple once had a chance but the suffering lover sabotaged it. (I've done this with HashiMada, Starscream/Wheeljack, and radiosnake. you could easily do it with Gideon/Mabel or post-betrayal billford.)

"emotionless" characters (like in a "robot programmed without emotions" way, not a "mental illness" way) that somehow gain the capacity to feel love and it becomes their whole identity because they have nothing else. (i don't have an example lmao)

Various tropes I enjoy outside unhealthy obsession (although it can incorporate it):

Anything that lets me write a character romantically waxing poetic over the breathtaking beauty of something that normal people would never consider a potential object of attraction. Like a pteranodon, or a literal triangle with an eyeball, or a pile of black sludge.

The super genius who makes/does incredible things and their personal muse who inspires their work and is in awe of the brilliant things they do/make. they can both be geniuses but don't have to be. (Tarantulas & Prowl; Sir Pentious & Alastor; Ford & Bill)

Toxic exes who still know each other SO well that it's agony to be around each other because they can see everything they used to have.

Characters who make each other Worse. Like their relationship is good, but being together turns them both into terrible people. (Venom.)

[macsriles]

I just finished Thunderbolts and here are my general thoughts! spoilers obviously :)

- I loved it! It was so good! The reluctant found family is great and I'm excited to see more of them. I love what Marvel has been doing recently with Daredevil: Born Again, Thunderbolts, and hopefully the Fantastic Four.

- Not happy about Bucky and Sam being at odds with each other. I hated Avengers Civil War and I don't want a repeat. I get both sides but just don't want my babies fighting, particularly with Bucky teaming up with Walker. I hope they can work everything out though.

- Any mention of Nat made me cry. I will always wish that Marvel had given Nat the opportunity that Yelena has been given. Either way Nat will always have my heart. I miss her everyday. Her and Yelena’s relationship will never fail to get to me.

- I don't hate the “New Avengers” but wish they could just be the Thunderbolts. The name and story behind it fits them so much more.- I love how much Yelena and Bucky are really trying to do something with this team. Their dynamic is just tired parents and I love that lol.

-As for Bob and Yelena…I ship it. I know there's a lot of controversy about them, and idc whether you like them platonically or romantically or whatever. I saw them as a romantic pairing, and I love their dynamic. I understand that there's the comics and everything but the Marvel comic universe and cinematic universe are wildly different. The characters are almost entirely different people and I say live and let ship. I don't think anyone should be getting any hate for a ship that is not toxic or harmful. No one should be getting hate no matter if you ship it or not.

- I really like the focus on mental health and the family dynamic that they all had. They all have done awful things but are (mostly) trying to do better and they accept each other at their worst. I also love how none of them are letting Walker gloss over his actions (despite the excuses all his new fans are making) Ava and Yelena constantly picking on him is actually true sibling behavior lol

[clonetrooperjournals]

Not Enough (PT.2)

Summary : Wolffe takes you out for the first time and at the bar you meet his squad Pairings : Wolffe x Fem!reader Warnings : slightly spicy, slight angst, self conscious reader, fluff, cute wolffe, happy ending, the wolf pack is ridiculous and we love them Words : 1.9k Read PT.1 here masterlist here

“You almost ready to go baby? I think the pack should be heading th-” 

Wolffe freezes staring at you as you turn to him nervously, “Does this look okay?”  

He slowly trails his gaze over you, your big curls and glossy lips, the silk red dress that stops above your knee, the strappy silver heels, he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his whole life. You fiddle with the hem of your jacket looking at him nervously waiting for his answer.  

Wolffe walks over slowly, his eye dark, “Oh my sweet baby girl, you are perfect...” he trails his hands up your sides slowly then lifts your chin to look at him, “I am the luckiest asshole alive.”  

You roll your eyes, cheeks darkening, “I-I’m not-”  

“Uh Uh. You are perfect. My perfect baby girl.”  

Your cheeks get an even darker red as Wolffe leans in and kisses you. Slow and passionate, smearing your lip gloss all over his lips but he doesn’t care. He trails his kisses down your neck stopping just above your heart.  

He looks up at you with a grin, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I hope you're ready because if we don’t leave now, I’m going to rip this dress off of you and keep you here all night,” he chuckles darkly.  

You giggle, “I-I’m ready... I think.” 

He grabs your hand and together you both leave your apartment, once outside you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and together you head to 79’s.  

... 

The bar was loud and dark and kind of sticky but seeing all the clones laughing and joking around having fun makes it amazing. Wolffe leads you over to a table, noticing all the stares in your direction, he pulls you closer to him glaring at everyone.  

Once seated he looks over at you with a small smile, “What do you think?” 

“It’s so fun here! I can see why all the boys love it here so much... Although it wouldn’t kill them to wipe it down a bit...” you giggle.  

Wolffe chuckles, “I don’t think they care about it being a bit sticky here. You sit pretty and I’ll go get us some drinks.”  

Wolffe winks and leaves you in the booth. You sit and observe all the clones dancing and laughing, flirting with other women there, just enjoying themselves. The longer you sit the more you notice the stares of the clones in your direction, and your cheeks start to burn. You think maybe you’ll just go and join Wolffe at the bar when white and grey armor blocks your view and sits down at your table, the symbol of the wolf pack on their shoulders.  

“Hey sweet thing. What are you doing over here all by yourself?”  

“Sweet thing? Sinker stop your flirting is terrible!” 

“Says you Boost! She’s not complaining!” 

You giggle, “Are you the rest of the wolf pack?”  

The three clones stop there bickering and turn to you with big grins, Boost leans in, “So you’ve heard of us?” 

The third clone leans back with a smile, “Of course she has. You're the sunshine of the med bay, right? Kix’s right-hand girl?”  

Sinker shoots up, “No wonder you look so familiar! Every soldier fights to get you when we have to go to med! Kix isn’t as pretty or nice as you are!” 

“Kix just likes to pick on all of you,” you say giggling at them. 

“You uh... met our commander?” the third clone asks with a smirk.  

“What are you getting at Comet?”  

“Yeah, why would she talk to the Commander? He doesn’t even talk to us and he’s our Commander!” 

Comet looks you up and down with a grin, “because the Commander has been ‘going for caf’ in the med bay break room for the last three months.” 

You freeze, “What?”  

Suddenly two drinks hit the table in front of you and Wolffe looks over his squad grumpily, “took you three long enough,” he then looks over at you and gently strokes your cheek, “The boys giving you trouble baby girl?” 

“WHAT!?” 

“BABY GIRL!?” 

“Commander! She’s your girl!?” 

“Maker! Why didn’t you say anything!”  

“I thought I had a shot!”  

Wolffe rolls his eyes and sits beside you slinging his arm around your waist, “This would be why I didn’t tell you lot...”  

You laugh at the four of them, taking a sip of your drink when you remember what Comet said before Wolffe arrived and you turn, “Is it true that you go to the med bay break room for caf?” 

Wolffe freezes and his cheeks start to go red, “I have no idea what you’re talking about...” 

Comet leans forward with a smirk eyeing his Commander, “so the caf doesn’t ‘taste better’ over there after all?”  

“I suggest you stop talking vod,” he warns taking a sip of his drink.  

All of them laugh at Wolffe and you shake your head at them chuckling, “you guys are a lot of fun. I thought you would all be a little grumpy like Wolffe here.” 

They all laugh loudly, “Nah! Commander is grumpy for all of us. Were the fun ones!” 

Wolffe sighs, “if fun actually means pain in the shebs...” 

You laugh putting your hand over Wolffe's heart, “thanks for bringing me out love.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner,” he sighs looking at you gently.  

Boost tilts his head, “So how long you guys been together anyway?”  

You look up at Wolffe and his ears turn red as he sips his drink, “a year.” 

“A YEAR!?” 

“Commander! You hid it from us all this time!” 

“Don’t you know how to share!”  

“You’re embarrassed of us aren’t you!?”  

Wolffe rolls his eyes, “You’re all ridiculous.” 

Boost grabs your hand, “Looks like we gotta make up for lost time sunshine! Let's dance!” 

Before you can refuse Boost pulls you up and drags you onto the dance floor laughing at the glare Wolffe sends him. You just giggle and dance with Boost, the biggest smile on your face.  

Wolffe watches you both with a rare big smile on his face, and Comet looks at his commander, “A year huh?”  

He turns to him, “you know the job. It's... hard to be with someone, and I know I’m not the most... charismatic. I’m still learning but... I love her. And she needs all of you just as much as she does me. Were a pack after all. Sorry it took so long to introduce you...” 

Sinker pats him on the shoulder, “I like softie Commander.” 

“Don’t get used to it.” he says rolling his eyes.  

The rest of the night is spent taking turns dancing with the wolf pack, cracking jokes, telling stories, and endless drinks. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and the drinks in your system making you feel lighter than air, you're not drunk but definitely tipsy, you’ve never been happier.  

“Think it’s time to go home baby girl,” Wolffe says to you as you lean into him.  

You whine, “Not yet. I’m having fun with the pack!” 

The boys chuckle at you, “Don’t worry sunshine! We’ll do this again. Promise!” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” you say smiling at the clones.  

Wolffe stands and nods to his squad, “Night boys. No funny business. If Fox comms me, I’ll leave your shebs in the holding cell all night.”  

Boost sighs, “it was one time!”  

“One time too many. Let's go baby.” Wolffe leads you out the bar as you wave to the boys.  

Once back in your apartment, Wolffe wastes no time ripping your dress of you and carrying you to your bedroom kissing you breathless as he goes. He puts you down on the bed gently looking you over, the left-over lip gloss still on your lips, the light shine of sweat from all your dancing, the lacy red lingerie you had hidden under the dress, he’s never seen anything more stunning in his whole life.  

“What are you staring at?” you ask slightly self-conscious.  

He smiles at you, “the most beautiful thing in the galaxy.” 

Your heart swells as you look up at your Wolffe, gently holding his cheek you lean up and kiss him passionately, “I love you.” 

He puts his head against yours kissing your face all over, “I love you too baby girl.” 

... 

You had such a headache.  

You didn’t realize how much the boys could drink and now you're here working with a hangover. You still did your hair and makeup to cover up how tired you actually are, not to mention how sore you are, thanks to Wolffe. You blush to yourself at the memories of the night before, when Kix walks over to you.  

“Hey sunshine. I’m heading out for a bit, Rex called a meeting. You good on our own?” 

You smile, “Yeah I’m good.” He smiles back patting your shoulder as he heads out, leaving you to all the paperwork you’ve been slowly making your way through.    

After a while of doing paperwork, you figure the largest cup of caf you can find will ease the headache you’ve been dealing with all morning. You leave your desk and make your way to the breakroom only to stop at the sight. Comet, Boost and Sinker are all sitting in the small folding chairs, each drinking a cup of caf with a smirk.  

“Morning Sunshine!” 

“How are you today?” 

“You look pretty!” 

You giggle at them, “What are you guys doing here?” 

Comet chuckles, “proving a point.” 

You raise a brow, “Oh?” 

As if summoned, Wolffe enters the break room looking at the four of you exasperated, “What are you three doing here!?” 

Sinker laughs, “us? Were just here for a cup of caf.” 

“Your right Commander this caf is better than ours,” Boost says smiling.  

“The view ain’t bad either,” Comet comments winking at you.  

You blush looking over at Wolffe who is glaring at his squad, “pain in my shebs, every single one of you!” 

You turn to Wolffe and kiss his cheek, “want one too love?” 

He looks back at you and sighs with a grin, “sure baby girl.” 

Sinker turns to you downing the rest of his caf, “Kix flirt with you every day?”  

You jump looking at him confused, “He’s not flirting. He’s just being friendly that’s how he is.” 

“No, he was definitely flirting.” says Boost.  

You hand Wolffe his mug of caf, eyeing him suspiciously, “is that why you kept coming here for caf?” 

He shrugs taking a sip of his caf and you roll your eyes, “you’re all ridiculous!” 

“Welcome to the wolf pack sunshine, ya better get used to it.”  

You giggle, a warm feeling in our chest. Standing here in this small breakroom surrounded by this squad of clones that became your family, you’ve never been so happy, even with the pounding headache of a hangover.  

Kix enters the room, “Hey Sunshine did you manage to finish the paperwor- Woah!”  

All four clones stand behind you glaring at the medic like the pack of wolves they are. Wolffe slings his arm around your waist and turns your chin toward him, kissing you roughly in front of everyone.  

“Thanks for the caf baby girl. See you later. Boys, let's go!” 

The wolf pack leaves the breakroom glaring at Kix as they go and you just stand there blushing and giggling, knowing you have a pack of wolves to protect you.  

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[zakalwe-the-ninth]

Ooh, maybe Sybil and Nanny?

Thanks for the prompt! Love these two ☺️

Common Ground (Sam/Sybil, 2.1k words, Teen & up, humour but with a small warning for mention of child loss)

Sybil meets Nanny Ogg at a party; the Duchess of Ankh can talk to anyone, and Nanny can always lower the tone…

Sybil sipped a glass of wine, as beside her the King of Lancre waffled on about the challenges of introducing a democratic parliament to a kingdom of people that believed every man apart from themselves was an idiot. She wondered privately why he was bothering, but suspected if she asked he wouldn’t understand the question.

Across the great hall of the castle she could see Sam engaged in conversation with Shawn Ogg. She was sure she’d seen the boy cleaning the privies earlier, but now the lad was wearing a guard uniform and seemed to be watching, fascinated, as her husband showcased a fighting move she’d once heard him refer to as The Nutcracker. She winced sympathetically as the young man went slightly pale.

Verence had continued talking while she was distracted, however, and appeared to be patiently awaiting a response to a question she had completely lost track of.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your majesty; what were you saying?”

The king blinked. “Ah, simply that I understand Ankh-Morpork did away with kings some time ago?”

Sybil waved a hand vaguely. “Oh, yes. The last one was awful. Thankfully a relative of my husband chopped off the man’s head. And various other bits, I understand.”

“Ah.” Verence glanced across the room towards Sam, who was still talking to Shawn and appeared now to be explaining the principles behind an effective throat punch in a fairly demonstrative fashion. “Er. A very distant relative, was it?”

She gave him a bright grin. “Not really, no.”

“Hm,” he said vaguely, and Sybil watched several thoughts pass fleetingly across his face. He was opening his mouth to give voice to one of them when they were interrupted by a woman dressed all in black and with a face like a wizened apple.

“Wotcha, your majesty.” The woman plonked herself in front of Verence, a bottle in one hand and turkey drumstick in the other, and Sybil noticed how the king seemed almost to brace himself before he greeted her.

“Oh. Hello, Nanny. Um, have you seen the queen, anywhere? I just need to go and…” He took a half step backwards and made a show of looking around the room before he trailed off hopelessly.

The apple-faced woman grinned. “Magrat? She took your boy upstairs to clean up. Poor bairn fell in the midden.”

“Oh, gods.” Verence started to walk off, before apparently remembering he was the king and turning back to the two women. “Oh, so sorry…I’ve forgotten my manners…um, Nanny, this is Her Grace, Lady Sybil Vimes, Duchess of Ankh. Your grace, this is…er. Mrs Gytha Ogg. We call her Nanny. She’s one of our very, um, esteemed witches.” He made a vague gesture towards them both. “I’m sure you’ll have lots to discuss, but please do excuse me…” 

The pair stared after him as he navigated through the crowd, then turned back to each other. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Ogg,” Sybil said, putting on her most diplomatic smile. “Lovely party, isn’t it?”

Nanny eyeballed her from beneath a pointy black hat that also, Sybil now noted, had a garish assortment of wax fruits adorning the brim. 

“Aye, not bad, I suppose. Grub’s alright, anyway.” She waved the turkey leg as emphasis, then carried on. “Duchess, eh? We don’t get many of them around here. Is that higher or lower than an Earl?” 

“Oh.” Sybil felt her cheeks start to colour. “Higher. But please, call me Sybil.” 

Nanny took a swig from the bottle and swallowed it with a satisfied noise. “Righto. And you can call me Nanny. You just here for the party?”

“Yes. Lord Vetinari couldn’t make it, unfortunately, so Sam and I attended to represent the city.”

Nanny considered this. “Vetinari? That’s the tall fella, isn’t it? Dresses like a witch and looks like he needs a damned good meal? Or maybe just a damned good seeing to.” She grinned, lewdly.

A loud giggle erupted from Sybil before she had a chance to run it through her diplomatic filter, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment and glanced down at the glass in her hand. “Oh dear. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second drink.” She raised an eyebrow at Nanny. “But yes. That’s Havelock. You sound like you’ve met him?”

Nanny had a glint in her eye, now. “Oh, yes, I’ve met ‘im. Me and Esme went to the opera a few years back, and he was there too. He told me how they’d served up my Carrot and Oyster Pie at the palace, once.”

Sybil stared at her, eyes wide. “That was your recipe?! Goodness, that pie caused some ructions.” She thought back to the night in question; she hadn’t been at the palace for the dinner, but Sam certainly had been, right up until the point he’d run home and dived straight into a cold bath, anyway. She glanced across at him and smiled fondly at the memory.

“Yep. That’s me.” Nanny was watching her, and now she followed her gaze. “That your husband, with our Shawn?”

“Oh, Shawn Ogg, of course; I should have realised. And yes, that’s Sam.” She paused as they watched him. “Shawn is a lovely boy; a real credit to you. I’m afraid I’m not sure exactly what Sam’s showing him, though…”

That wasn’t entirely true; she had once seen Sam use that particular move on a very drunk lord who had gotten overly friendly with her at a party. Rumour had it the man had moved to Omnia to become a priest after his encounter with the Duke of Ankh.

But Nanny was preening in the way of proud parents everywhere when complimented on their children. “He’s a good lad, Shawn. Doesn’t always have both oars in the water, mind, but he tries. He keeps things ticking over up here, anyway.”

“Yes, I can certainly see that.” Sybil took another sip of her wine. “Do you have other children?”

Nanny continued to stare fondly at Shawn. “Oh, yes. I had fifteen of the buggers. But I’ve buried a few of ‘em over the years, ‘o course.”

Sybil felt herself momentarily lost for words, which was rather unexpected, since a lifetime of social obligations had left her with an extremely high boredom threshold and - usually - an endless reserve of polite small talk. But she was hit by the sudden image of Young Sam sleeping soundly upstairs, and felt an ache deep in her chest that seemed to rob her of speech.

“Oh, good heavens, I am so sorry,” she finally said, with naked sincerity.

Nanny shrugged, still watching the two men. “Life’s hard ‘round these parts. There’s nothing to be gained from moping about it.” She frowned slightly, and turned back to Sybil. “How old’s your bairn?”

“Nearly one.” Sybil felt the ache start to ease somewhat. “He’s upstairs with the nanny.”

“I reckoned as much.” Nanny saw Sybil’s questioning look and smiled. “You looked for him, when I mentioned about mine that I’d lost. Mothers do that.” She nodded back towards Sam and Shawn. “Your man, there. He a good dad?”

“Oh, yes.” She hesitated briefly, then added, “He tries his best, certainly. And he’s lovely with him. But…busy, you know. Work takes a lot of him.” Sybil wondered if it was the wine making her talk so openly, but suspected it was simply that Nanny gave off the kind of vibe that suggested she had known you all of your life; it was more effort not to talk to her.

The other woman narrowed her eyes a little. “I had a husband like that. Mind, the other two were so lazy they’d have paid someone to wipe their arses for ‘em if they could, and that weren’t any better.” She took a bite of the turkey leg and chewed it thoughtfully, then said, “You told him you’d like him around more?”

Sybil frowned. “Sam’s job is very important. He’s trying to make the city better. I won’t have him feel guilty for that just to make my life easier.”

The stripped turkey leg was discarded onto an empty platter carried by a passing waitress, and now Nanny fished about inside a pocket and pulled out a pipe. She cast a glance around, but in the absence of any handy flat surfaces she tucked the bottle between her knees while she lit the pipe. “Well,” she said, as she shook out the match and retrieved the bottle, “that’s all well and good for you, if you’re willing; I dare say plenty of women are happier with their men out from under their feet. But it ain’t a decision you’re making just for you, anymore, is it?”

Sybil hesitated. “No. I suppose not.”

Nanny puffed the pipe and looked her up and down appraisingly. “You’ll not have any more?”

“No. I suppose I might have liked another, but I’ve been told another birth would simply be too risky. Besides, neither of us are getting any younger.”

“Ha. I always say age is a state of mind, but when it comes to babbies…well, they takes a toll on a body.” Nanny stared out across the room, to where a severe looking woman also dressed in black was scowling at the crowd from the shadows. “One’s fine, though. Sometimes more’n one just makes things… complicated. And that can turn pretty nasty.” 

Sybil followed her gaze. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s just Esme.” Nanny grinned again. “I s’pose I should go and grab her before she forgets it's a party and starts cursin’ folk for havin’ fun.”

“Of course, Mrs - Nanny. It’s been very nice chatting.” Sybil hesitated, and then looked over at where Sam was now talking to a man with a furious-looking bird perched on his wrist. She nibbled her lower lip, and dropped her voice. “Um…before you go…?”

The witch raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“...Do you think I could perhaps get the recipe for that pie…?”

Nanny took the pipe from her mouth and cackled. “Ha! I tell you what, Your Ladyship, I’ll have Shawn bring you up a copy of my book before you leave. I dare say there’s a few recipes in there you and your man might enjoy.” She gave the woman beside her a conspiratorial nudge with an elbow, and Sybil blushed pinkly. “You might want to be careful though, if you’re serious about not wanting any more little surprises. Although I can give you something to help with that, too, if you’re interested.”

Sybil blinked. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, thank you. But the book would be, um, gratefully received. It’s very kind of you.”

“Well, when you get to a certain age you needs all the help you can get, am I right?” Nanny peered into her bottle and then tipped the rest of the contents into Sybil’s empty glass, giving her a wink as she did. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Your Ladyship.”

Nanny wandered off, elbowing her way across the hall towards the woman she’d called Esme. Sybil peered down into the glass and took a cautious sniff; she’d thought it must be wine, by the way the woman was swigging it, but the haze of liquor emanating from it made her nose burn and her eyes water. 

Sam appeared beside her a second later, a handkerchief wrapped tightly around his finger and a faint bloom of red seeping through it. 

“Hello, dear,” she said as she swilled the liquid around thoughtfully in the glass. “Have you been making friends?” 

Her husband scowled. “I got bitten by a bird.”

“I can see that. That was a Lancre Crowhawk, Sam; frankly you’re lucky you still have both your thumbs.”

“Oh? Well, your sympathy is appreciated as ever, dear.” 

Sybil finally took a careful sip from her glass and immediately started coughing. The bit she managed to swallow seemed to have an instant effect, however; she suspected the alcohol may have bypassed her stomach and burned its way directly into her bloodstream on the way down. 

“Wstgl!!” she said.

Sam raised an concerned eyebrow. “You alright, there?” His wife managed a vague nod, and he looked at her with some skepticism. “Didn’t Verence warn us against accepting anything off the witches, when we arrived?”

Sybil had pulled a fan out of a pocket and was wafting it briskly in front of her face as she caught her breath again. “She was drinking it like it was water! Good gods, Sam. I can’t feel my knees!” She swayed a little

Her husband snorted, and grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Ha! I don’t miss those days. This is probably a good excuse to leave, though?” 

Sybil, insofar as she was capable of any coherent thought currently, believed he sounded rather hopeful.

“Yes, alright. You might need to help me up  the stairs, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll give you a damned piggyback up them, if it means getting out of these tights.” 

Sybil grinned at him. “Well,” she said, as she slipped her arm through his and allowed herself to be guided gently out through the heaving hall, “on that note, just wait until I tell you what else Mrs Ogg is giving me…”

[foolishlywandwaving]

give me tomione fics with the physicality of tomarry/harrymort PLEASE I'm not asking for romance I am asking for VIOLENCE

[thelonelynindroid]

Brad Jo Dana Evil Gang.........I love it

[paarksunghoon]

onlymingyus you are crazy. thank you

Your Eyes Only

pairing; choi soobin x f!reader x park sunghoon

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, midly toxic, comedy, fluff

summary; Groups projects are the worst, right? But when your group is Soobin and Sunghoon it gets interesting.

content warnings; poly themes, rich kids, university au, jealousy, self-confidence issues, fuck boy!sunghoon, nerd!soobin, alcohol, drug mentioned, mild bullying.  

smut warnings; protected sex, semi-unprotected sex, cum play, fingering, oral (f/m giving and receiving), hand job, cum eating, double penetration, anal sex, anal fingering, very mild mlm, pets names/degrading names, dirty talk, glasses kink, begging.

w/c; 21k and some change 

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading for me and givng me the courage to write outside of my svt box. i know this is different BUT if you are looking for the svt version (wonwoo & jeonghan) it is on my patreon right now 

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Chewing on the end of your pen, you tap your heel against the leg of the table as you listen to your professor explain the basics of the project that would pass or fail you in his class. You had spent most of your time at university avoiding any course that you knew would involve a group project, but this was one class you couldn’t get out of. 

“You will be randomly paired with a partner for this project.” Glancing around, your professor sighs and looks down the list of names in front of him before pursing his lips. “And one group will have to welcome in a third. You can thank those who dropped the class for the uneven number.” 

It was no secret that there were those in the class who were well acquainted with each other and those who were set up for success in the business field, so the random assignment of partners was already making everyone nervous. You were somewhere in the middle of everyone. You weren’t unknown, and it wasn’t like you didn’t have connections after you graduated, but you were no Park Sunghoon with your life already on a silver platter in front of you. 

Glancing up as your professor starts to move through the classroom, you swallow hard as he starts to call out names, putting together the groups. 

“Lee Yongbok, you will be with Kang Taehyun.” 

Great. Only one pair had been named, and you already felt like you were going to be left with someone who would leave you with 90% of the work. Puffing up your cheeks, you glance around the room before quicking looking down at your desk when you meet the one person’s eyes that you had been trying to avoid, Sunghoon. He looked so smug—like he didn’t give a shit about who he was put with, because it honestly didn’t matter. He knew he wouldn’t fail, and he probably wouldn’t have to do a damn thing. This would all be fine as long as you didn’t get put with—

“Park Sunghoon, you will be with Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Letting out a deep breath, louder than you mean to, you meet your professor's eyes just before he looks down at his clipboard and purses his lips. “I think honestly this might be the perfect group for a third, so I’m going to add Choi Soobin. You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Park?’ 

Of course your professor had only asked Sunghoon if he minded. What if you had an issue with it? Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Soobin glances from the professor at the front of the room towards you and then Sunghoon as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“It’s whatever. I can make it work.” 

“Perfect, I knew I could count on you.” 

The sound of your professor's voice is almost muffled as he continues to call out names, Hwang Yeji being paired with Ning Yizhuo and Park Jongseong with Julie Han. None of them mattered because you could feel eyes on you and were too nervous to look up and see who they belonged to. 

“That’s everyone. Now, take the rest of the hour to get acquainted and make a plan for your project. Remember, I want a detailed business plan that I would actually want to put money into. This is 75% of your grade. I expect results.” 

Finally looking up, you are relieved to see the room moving into action and no one staring at you. It isn’t until Sunghoon lifts his brows and slides from his chair, picking up his bag, that you feel your heart in your chest. You hadn’t spent much time with him before. He made you nervous—he made almost everyone nervous. 

Sunghoon’s father was the CEO of some multimillion-dollar company, and he didn’t even need to be here, except his father wanted him to prove he could take the reins when the time came. Everyone knew that Sunghoon resented the decision, and while he was a genius—truly brilliant—he barely did any of the work and still managed to pass with flying colors by magic every single time. 

The other side of Sunghoon was the one that you knew just by reputation. You didn’t have time to party. While some got their way here on their parent’s money, you had gotten in on a scholarship and had to keep your GPA where it was or risk your full ride. You heard about the parties every weekend; you had been invited—but you had stuck to your dorm almost every time. Sunghoon, on the other hand, did not. He hosted the parties and kept putting notches in his bedpost from what you had been told through the rumor mill. 

“Dude, shit or get off the pot. Are you sitting on this side of her, or am I?” Sunghoon’s voice made your cheeks heat up as you looked up to watch him and Soobin stand in front of your table. 

Soobin was, as far as you knew, the polar opposite of Sunghoon. He was quiet and reserved—more like you. His family was wealthy, and you knew that he probably didn’t need to be here either, but from what you had gathered, he chose to be here, like he had something to prove. 

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Soobin narrows his eyes at Sunghoon and sighs before sliding into the chair on your left, leaving the right side open for the other man. He had never gotten along with Sunghoon. They had been in almost every single class together since day one, and somehow Sunghoon always was top of the class. It didn’t matter how much work Soobin put into something; Sunghoon’s smug ass was always one step ahead. 

“Hey, Y/N. We, uh—we haven’t talked much. Excited to do the project with—” 

“Oh my god, obvious much?” 

Sinking down into the chair on your right, Sunghoon rests his arm on the back of your chair and looks around you at Soobin, cutting him off. Meanwhile, in the middle, you felt small as the tension built between the two. Clearing your throat, you lean forward to grab your notebook and pen in an attempt to clear the air. 

“I’m excited to do the project with you too, Soobin.” Glancing towards him, you quickly look at Sunghoon, finding that it feels like a mistake as he meets your eyes with a smirk. “And with you too, Sunghoon, you know… of course.” Your mouth feels dry as Sunghoon’s smirk widens into a smile, his eyes moving over your face and dropping to your lips before he nods and furrows his brows in a teasing manner. 

“Oh, I’m sure. You look thrilled, princess.” 

Opening your mouth, you quickly close it as Sunghoon calls you princess, managing to fluster you even further. “I—no, I am. I mean—I just…um.” Shaking your head, you drop your pen onto your notebook and fish your cellphone from your purse as you swallow hard. “We should probably exchange numbers or something. So we can plan a time to meet and work on the project.” 

Nodding, Soobin straightens his back as he furrows his brows, trying to keep his head clear as you struggle so much with your words. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was excited to work on the project with you. You had caught his eye weeks—maybe even months—ago and now he had a reason to talk to you, if he could keep Sunghoon’s claws off of you. 

“Yeah, sure. Uh—” Smiling as you turn towards him, Soobin watches as you put his number into your phone; your thumbs quickly move over the screen before you tilt your head and meet his eyes. 

“What emoji do you want?” Up close, Soobin was even more handsome than you realized. You weren’t stupid; you had looked at him and at Sunghoon before. While Sunghoon was a dangerous sort of sexy that made you both terrified and excited, Soobin made your stomach feel warm and tight when he smiled at you. 

“Emoji? Do I need one?” 

Sighing, you give Soobin an exasperated look as you scroll through the emoji’s landing on the smiley face with glasses. “Everyone needs one. You can’t be the only one without one in my phone, Soobin.” 

“Are you gonna pick one out for me, or do I get to pick?” 

Sunghoon’s voice causes chill bumps to erupt along your skin as you press your lips together and turn back in your seat to face the front of the room. “Uh, no, you can pick. I mean, unless you just want me to pick.” 

Grinning at how flustered you seem every single time you talk to him, Sunghoon raises his brow and glances down at your phone as you put his name in and wait for him to tell you his number. “You can call or text anytime.” Leaning his arm back on his own chair, Sunghoon tilts his head as you go back up to his name and start to scroll through the emojis, not commenting on what he had said. “You pick one. I’m curious to see what you’ll choose.” 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you glance to the side at Sunghoon before letting it out in a sharp sigh, trying not to let him get to you. You aren’t sure if it’s just wanting to try to prove something to him or stupidity, but with a small burst of confidence, you purse your lips together and scroll until you find the devil emoji pressing down on it and then save. 

“Wow. Damn, Y/N. That’s kinda hot.” Sliding his phone from his jacket pocket, Sunghoon quickly types your name into his contacts and puts an angel emoji next to your name before turning it towards you for you to put your own number in. “I already have Soobin’s number; I just need yours, Angel.” 

Leaning his head back, Soobin tries not to show how annoyed he is at Sunghoon’s blatant flirting with you after he had tried to embarrass him from the get-go. Instead, he waits for you to finish putting your number into Sunghoon’s phone and for you to turn to him expectantly. He could almost see how flustered you were, and while Soobin wished that he was the cause, he wasn’t that dense. “Here you go.” 

Quickly putting your number into Soobin’s phone, you meet his eyes as you scroll through the emojis one last time before picking the girl with glasses as your emoji and saving it in his phone. “Cool. Uh, did you guys wanna go ahead and set up a time and place to get started on the project? I kinda have a few ideas for some business proposals, but of course we should all have some so we can decide together.” 

You were so cute as you tried to stay on task. No matter how much Sunghoon tried to tease you, and no matter how flustered he made you, you still found your way back to the task at hand. You were persistent; he had to hand it to you. 

“I’m good anytime—well, not anytime. I have plans this weekend. So anytime before Friday night.” 

Rolling his eyes, Soobin lets out a loud sigh and leans towards the table to rest his forearms on the top. Of course Sunghoon would have plans and make the rest of the group work around them. Furrowing his brows at Soobin’s outburst, Sunghoon shifts in his chair and lifts his hand from the table like a question. 

“Problem?” 

“I mean, yeah. Literally told, this is basically our entire grade and you’d rather get trashed—” 

The tension is once again getting thick. You sit up straight and clear your throat, trying to stop the argument before it starts. You had been concerned about this group for other reasons, and now you were starting to realize you were going to be spending your time trying to keep Sunghoon and Soobin from killing each other for the few weeks it would take to complete the project and present it. 

“We don’t have to meet this weekend. How about Thursday? No one has to cancel plans right now. We are just getting started.” Glancing from one man to the other, you look for sympathy as a slight pout forms on your lips. “Please don’t argue. I just want to get a good grade on this. I really need it. I just need you guys to help me pick something out, and I’ll research. I don’t need much.” 

Taking a breath and pursing his lips, Sunghoon lets his eyes stay on Soobin for a moment longer—a look of contempt evident before he shifts his gaze to you, and it softens slightly. “It’s a date. Your place or mine?” 

Hearing a soft, flustered “oh” leave your lips, Soobin shakes his head and sits back in his chair as you pick up your pen to just have something to do with your hands. Every class that he had shared with Sunghoon had gone exactly like this; somehow this was already worse. He had avoided having to do projects with him, and he hadn’t had to watch him flirt with the one girl he was interested in. It was like Sunghoon knew and was doing it on purpose. 

“I—you know, either. Or, we could like just... Meet at the library and grab a room.” You could feel Sunghoon’s eyes, almost like they were burning your skin with how intense his gaze was. Soobin, on the other hand, was almost avoiding you now. “Or if Soobin has another idea—” 

“I don’t like the library. I’d rather meet at my dorm or yours, Y/N.” Finally looking back up at you, Soobin sighs when he meets your eyes, and you nod, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you shift in your chair. 

“Sh—sure, yeah. We can just meet at mine. Thursday, like 4 o’clock?” 

Sunghoon smirks even as he nods, his eyes not even moving to the front of the room as everyone else in the room starts to move, noticing the time. Normally he would already be out the door and on his way on to the next thing, but you were far more interesting. “See you then, angel.” 

“Yea—sure, sounds good.” Clearing his throat, Soobin is the first to move to his feet and grab his things before you push back your chair to do the same, causing you to take a step towards him. Taking a deep breath, Soobin meets your eyes and gives you a shy smile as he mutters an apology and steps off to the side, feeling his neck and face heating up. 

“No problem.” 

Your mind was spinning, every thought in it clouded by the scent of Soobin’s cologne, even though he isn’t right in front of you anymore as you lean over to pick up your bag and pull it up into your chair to pack up your things quickly. Sliding out of his chair, Sunghoon tilts his head, watching how your skirt lifts up just slightly on your thighs when you pick up your bag before he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair and raises his brows at an obviously flustered Soobin. He got it. You were cute as fuck and oblivious to how either one of them was looking at you. It was maddening. 

“Text me later and let me know if you want me to bring drinks or something to this rager we are planning.” Walking backwards out of the room, Sunghoon flashes you a smile and winks as he turns on his heels out of the door. 

“I—jesus. He’s insufferable.” 

Glancing over to Soobin with your bag on your shoulder, you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips when he voices his displeasure for Sunghoon. You knew about their competitive nature in classes, but seeing it up close was a completely different thing. “He’s kinda funny, I don’t know. It’ll be okay. We just need a topic, and this will be easy, Soobin. Don’t stress about it. I’ll text you both later about Thursday.” 

Letting out another breath watching you wave at him as you slip out of the room, Soobin leans his head back and curses under his breath at his shit luck. If this had been any other class and any other project when he could have you to himself, he might actually be looking forward to this. But no, Sunghoon had to be right there to fuck it up. 

Tapping the screen of your phone, you sigh as the time ticks closer and closer to 4 p.m. You had managed to speed clean your small dorm room into something presentable within an hour, but even as you sat on your now freshly made bed, you were nervous about Sunghoon and Soobin seeing where you lived half of the year. 

The knock at your door sends your heart into a panic; you feel it rising into your throat as you slide off your bed and smooth down the skirt of your dress as you give a quick glance at the mirror before reaching for the door handle. It doesn’t surprise you when you see Soobin first. He seemed, out of the two, the most responsible and prompt. 

“Come in.” Taking a step back, you find yourself having to look down as a smile pulls at your lips, heat spreading over your cheeks at how Soobin looks at you. He didn’t look much different than any other day, but that was what you liked about him. 

Pushing the dark frames of his glasses up his nose, Soobin’s smile widens as he moves past you into your room so he can glance around quickly. You were tidy and adorable. He was happy that you hadn’t decided to study in his room. Not that he was living like an animal, but it was overwhelming in the best ways to be surrounded by all of your things and your perfume. 

“You can sit down anywhere. Sorry, I don’t have many options, but the desk and bed are up for grabs. I can always sit on the floor.” 

Furrowing his brows at your words, Soobin shakes his head and drops his bag from his shoulder next to your desk before turning around to meet your eyes. “I wouldn’t make you sit on the floor. I’m sure there’s enough room for us all—” 

You watch as Soobin’s smile fades slightly along with his words when the second knock draws his attention from you and towards the door. Swallowing hard, you shake out your hands before moving back to the door and pulling it open, instantly meeting Sunghoon’s eyes. 

“I’m late to the party.” 

Shaking your head, you step to the side. Gesturing for Sunghoon to come inside, you lick your lips as you try to think of the right words. “Uh, no—no. Soobin just got here. We were just talking about where to sit. I was telling him that you guys are welcome to sit on the bed and at my desk and I can sit on the floor.” 

“Shit, why would you sit on the floor?” Scoffing, Sunghoon glances around your room much like Soobin had before he nods at the other man and meets your eyes once again. “We can both sit on the bed. Plenty big enough, princess.” 

Soobin watches with narrowed eyes as Sunghoon sits on your bed and makes a face of approval before patting the spot next to himself. “Unless you wanna sit on my lap.” 

Starting to sit down next to Sunghoon, you almost fall on to the bed out of shock as your breath gets caught in your throat at his bold words. “What? No! I’m fine here.” 

“I’m playing with you.” Poking at your side, Sunghoon smirks when you recoil from his teasing, but still a smile pulls at your pretty lips. “Have to lighten the mood somehow. You two are so uptight.” 

With a shake of his head, Soobin rolls his eyes and pulls your desk chair out from under the table, turning it towards your bed with more force than necessary. He wished he had been just a bit quicker and less of a chicken shit when it came to you and sat on the bed instead of letting Sunghoon do it. “Just here to actually get something done, Sunghoon. It’s not a party; those happen at your frat house.” 

Humming into a nod, Sunghoon leans back on your bed to rest on his elbows as you shift slightly near him to pick up your laptop, resting it on your thighs. “Sure isn’t a party, but speaking of. Y/N, you got plans this weekend? We are having a little get-together, and you should stop by.” Glancing towards Soobin quickly, almost dismissing him, Sunghoon sighs before giving you a tight smile and adding, “Soobin is invited too, of course.” 

You tilt your head at your computer screen, glancing towards Sunghoon and then Soobin before trying to pay more attention to the document you had already started the night before for the group project. “Um, I—well, I don’t really party. I don’t even know what those parties are like—” 

“Oh, you know... a quiet house that smells like febreeze or some shit, literally no crap in the way. Oh, and uh, everyone there will 100% be over 21, scouts honor.” Grinning at the look on your face, Sunghoon quickly puts up his hands and laughs at his own joke, adding, “Seriously, it’ll be fun and good for you. Let your hair down and shit.” 

Wrinkling your nose at Sunghoon’s attempt to convince you, you bite at your bottom lip unknowingly, drawing his and Soobin’s attention to where your teeth pull at your soft lips. “I don’t—” 

“I’ll go if you do, Y/N.” 

Meeting Soobin’s eyes surprised, Sunghoon tilts his head as you do the same and smiles. 

“Really? I—okay, I guess. I could come for an hour or two. Couldn’t hurt, right?” 

Sunghoon realized in that moment he probably needed to thank Soobin for convincing you to go to the party, but at the same time you had only agreed if he was going. That didn’t bode well for him. Did you like Soobin? Did you like Soobin more than him? Pursing his lips, Sunghoon watches you turn your attention back to your laptop, your fingers moving smoothly over the keys as you start working on a project he’d barely given any thought to. “I promise it’ll be fun. Now, what are you working on?” 

Adjusting on the bed so Sunghoon can see your laptop screen, you start to explain an idea you had about a law firm sharing your three names—Choi, Park, and Y/L/N—when you realize that Soobin is straining his next trying to see and pay attention. "Oh, um—maybe—Sunghoon? Could you scoot down? I think maybe if we lean back against the wall, we can all sit on the bed and use my laptop.” 

Sitting up, Sunghoon shrugs as he lets out a long breath before doing as you asked and scooting down very slightly so you can do the same, finding yourself right against his side. You don’t see the smirk on his lips as his eyes move over your face while you watch Soobin move from your desk chair and to the other side of you, now snugly between the two. 

“Is this okay? Or is it too close? I know my bed’s kinda small.” 

When you start to wiggle, trying to give either man a bit more room, Soobin shakes his head and stretches his back against the wall you are all leaning against. “I’m comfortable, Y/N. Tell us about the law firm.” He didn’t want you to move, or for you or Sunghoon to make him move. He was enjoying the feeling of you warm against his side, your leg against his, your sweet perfume invading his senses. 

It was difficult for either Sunghoon or Soobin to really pay attention to the work in front of them. There was nothing wrong with what you had suggested; it was as good as anything else anyone could come up with. The issue was you. It was difficult to think about some make-believe law firm when you have a pretty girl sighing with her body against yours. His mind starts to wander, and he finds himself imagining if her moans might sound as sweet and pretty as her sighs. 

At least, that was where Soobin’s mind was. Sunghoon’s eyes were doing most of the wandering. You were so focused on your screen, your lips moving as you asked their opinion to change some idea only to get a nod of approval from each of them as Sunghoon took in every detail he could see. You were gorgeous. How hadn’t he tried to get with you yet? Probably because you didn’t come to the parties he did. You had other priorities—Sunghoon’s only priority now was to see the rest of you after trying to memorize every freckle, mole, and dimple on your exposed skin. 

“We could talk about how one of our specialties is pro-bono work. Maybe Soobin?” Glancing up to get another opinion, you feel your cheeks burn when you find two sets of eyes watching you intently. You wait a few seconds before looking down and clearing your throat, realizing that neither is answering you, almost as if they were too distracted. “Soobin?”

Taking a deep breath of his own, Soobin finally meets your eyes before quickly looking at the screen in front of you to try to catch back up. “Sure, yeah… I’d be into that.” 

“Cool.” Nodding, you tilt your head and add in a few more notes to the section, feeling Soobin’s eyes once again move over your face. “We can meet up and go more into depth with each section if you want. I think Sunghoon would take the business law section... I mean, you know, following in his father’s footsteps, blah blah blah.” 

Your voice trails off as your finger moves over the trackpad. Sunghoon grins as you choose his “profession” in the law firm for him. “Blah, blah, blah... Sure, whatever you think, princess. And I can meet up at the party, or next week.” 

The idea of talking about your project at a party where Sunghoon would undoubtedly be drunk or high makes your brows knit together as you look over at him. “I—we can’t do this at the party. That’s silly. I mean, if you wanna meet before the party and go over a few things, that I can do.” 

Now you were saying shit that made sense. Sunghoon loved the idea of having you to himself for a bit. “Perfect. You can come over a couple of hours before and we can set this in stone; that sounds fair.” 

Soobin wasn’t an idiot; he could almost see the wheels turning in Sunghoon’s head as the man’s eyes moved over your face and along your neck. He thought if he could get you alone, he might have a chance at getting laid—two could play that game. Soobin wasn’t sure where the desire—no, the need to beat Sunghoon—had originated, but he knew when it came to you, he had to win. “And we can meet up tomorrow; finish up my section.” 

Suddenly your week and weekend had gotten packed. You were used to door-dashing food on a Friday and vegging out in your pajamas as you caught up on your work, but now you had to figure out how to look presentable for Choi Soobin. 

“Okay…” Your voice is softer than you intend; you lean to pick up your phone from your nightstand, leaning over Soobin’s lap for a few seconds before you rest back in your spot. You don’t realize the effect you have on either of the men and how their eyes meet after both struggle to hold in groans watching your dress ride up your thighs. “So tomorrow, Soobin—maybe we can meet back here at like 7?” Sighing at your calendar, you click your tongue against your teeth and nod before continuing. “And Sunghoon, I can come a couple of hours early; does that work?” 

Neither need much convincing after their shared glances, a rare understanding between them as they both mutter in agreement. 

Taking a deep breath, Soobin stares at your dorm room door as he adjusts his bag on his shoulder, mostly out of nerves. He had just been here the day before, but it felt different being here alone with you. Not that he was even close to complaining; it would be nice to work with you—get to know you without Sunghoon looming over his shoulder or yours. 

It was just before 7 o'clock, and you had been looking at your phone consistently for the past hour and a half to keep track of the time. Both Soobin and Sunghoon made you nervous; however, there was something about Soobin that you couldn’t quite shake. 

Sunghoon was easy to understand. He was forward—too forward, at times, but at least you knew what was on his mind. Soobin, on the other hand, was quiet and reserved. You had felt your skin go hot as an oven under his eyes while you had sat next to him on the bed, and now you were going to be alone with him. 

Knocking lightly, Soobin puffs up his cheeks and waits. All of his anxiety about seeing you melts away the moment his eyes move over your pretty face. The knot in his stomach that had told him earlier in the day to reschedule the study session releases, and he lets out the breath he had been holding and smiles at you. 

“Hey. You loo—I mean—” Clearing his throat, Soobin’s eyes stay transfixed on you as a smile pulls at your lips and you step back, giving him room to move through the door. “I hope I’m not bothering you or anything.” 

Shaking your head, you close your door as your brows furrow at Soobin’s words. He was so handsome and sweet it made your head spin. He confused you with how soft he seemed. It made you want to get to know him better—get to know the real Soobin. 

“Why would you be bothering me? We planned this, Soobin.” Gesturing towards your bed, you sigh softly as Soobin sits down near where he had the day before, dropping his bag into the floor in front of him. 

“No—yeah… I mean, I know. Just saying—I mean, I’m just trying not to be a—” Letting out a soft sigh on his breath, Soobin shakes his head before taking in a deeper breath to steady himself. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad we get to do this project together, Y/N.” 

You pull your leg up under you so that you almost rest on your knees facing Soobin as you sit next to him. “I’m glad too. I—” Glancing down, you feel a wave of uncertainty rushing over you as your cheeks start to burn. You couldn’t help but feel shy under his gaze as you spoke, or tried to, your voice quiet. “I’m glad too. I kinda feel bad for you and Sunghoon being stuck with me. I know neither of you would probably pick me if you had a cho—” 

“That’s crazy, Y/N. I’d pick you in a heartbeat.” Shaking his head, Soobin shifts on your bed, turning towards you, feeling a bit bolder as frustration runs through his veins at your words. “Why the hell would you even think that I wouldn’t? Fuck what Sunghoon thinks. I want to know why you think that I wouldn’t want you.” 

Almost as if he’s realizing what he had said, seeing the look of surprise on your face—your eyes widening in slight confusion and shock—Soobin licks his lips and opens his mouth before closing it and taking a breath through his nose. He hadn’t meant it how it sounded—but perhaps he had; he didn’t want to scare you. “I mean… Uh—just… Of course I wanna do this project with you. It’s stupid to think I wouldn’t want—” 

Even Soobin knew he was talking himself in circles as you tilted your head so innocently at him. He wasn’t Sunghoon. He hadn’t come here with the intention to flirt your pants off. He wasn’t some fuckboy asshole with an agenda. 

Swallowing hard, Soobin lowers his eyes to his legs and then further towards his bag before reaching for it, unzipping it quickly, and taking out his laptop to try to change the subject. He could feel your eyes on him, and the heat, while overwhelming, was also making his jeans tighter. Settling the laptop on to his lap, Soobin shifts uncomfortably at the feeling of the pressure before puffing up his cheeks, still grateful to have something hiding his potential problem as he willed himself to calm the fuck down. 

“So… I—I uh, tried to expand on what you said about the pro bono part of the practice and came up with a few things if you wanna take a look.” 

Your eyes move along Soobin’s face, from his glasses to his perfect lips as his tongue darts along them to keep them from drying out from nerves and finally down towards his lap and to the screen now open for you. You could see how he was fidgeting—almost as if he was uncomfortable where he was sitting, the screen of the laptop moving very slightly as he sighs and scrolls down, letting you try to read over what he had come up with. 

“It’s… Yeah—sounds good.” 

“You sure? You don’t sound convinced." Soobin’s anxiety was peaking at the sound of your voice. He had royally fucked up. Now you were upset with him even when it came to the project, and he was going to spiral. 

“No—I mean yes! Yes! It’s good. Soobin, it’s just—can you stop, like wiggling? I can’t read it when you are doing that. Can I see it? Let me hold it.” Reaching for his laptop, you furrow your brows at the quick, sharp breath Soobin takes before your hand slides over his on his lap. 

“I—Y/N… Yes, you can, but!” Fuck. Feeling the laptop being pulled from his lap, Soobin closes his eyes when he hears you take a breath, and a small “oh” leaves your lips. Mortified—that is all that Soobin feels as he blindly reaches for one of your throw pillows, pulling it into his lap, still unable to bring himself to look at you. 

If you had known what Soobin had been hiding with his laptop, you might not have just grabbed it—or at least you would have gone about it a different way. Grimacing as Soobin turns his head away from you, the pillow now over his lap, you start to speak but stop when you realize you aren’t sure what to say at first. 

Now things that Soobin had said were sort of starting to make a bit more sense, and still not completely. Maybe he was just being a guy. Perhaps he was already having his... problem before he had even gotten to your room, and this had nothing to do with you, but you can’t stop yourself from glancing down at the pillow in Soobin’s lap one more time out of curiosity. What if it was because of you? 

“Soobin?” 

Leaning his head back when you say his name, Soobin groans under his breath. It was a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Being around you, seeing so much of your skin on display, the words you had said so innocently that he had let his dirty mind twist... “Hmm?” 

Closing Soobin’s laptop, you lean to put it on the floor out of harm's way before resting back on your knees, your eyes once again moving over the man beside you as he keeps his eyes on the ceiling as if trying to disappear. Maybe you could test your theory. Was Soobin into you, or was this just a fluke thing? There was no one else around... you had always been such a good girl at university; how bad could it be to help out someone who clearly needed help? 

“Well, I was just—I thought... Do you want me to help you with that? You know if you like me like that?” 

He had been doing halfway decent at getting himself calmed down. Soobin had been solving basic trigonometry problems in his head to get his cock to behave, but the moment you ask him if he wants help, all his hard work is out the window. Feeling his cock twitch in his boxers, Soobin bites at his cheek, slowly lowering his head and glancing over at you meeting your seemingly innocent eyes. 

You were like a siren in the middle of the vast blue ocean, and he would swim to his death gladly. You had asked another stupid question, causing Soobin’s blood to boil, but the most he could manage at first was to scoff at you, making you recoil and pout, feeling rejected. 

"Oh, I—no problem. Sorry I misread the situ—” 

“Y/N, please.” Taking a deep breath, Soobin cuts you off again, knowing he has to stop you before you spiral this time. “You have no fucking idea how much I like you like that, or how much I like you in general.” Gripping the pillow tightly over his lap, Soobin groans a bit louder as he boldly lets his eyes move over your face and body this time. You were really the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and this had to be a fucking wet dream that he was going to wake up from at any moment. “But, are you serious? You wanna help me? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just—god, you are just so cute, and you were looking at me like that. I couldn’t help it.” 

Biting your bottom lip, you smile into a soft laugh as you feel warmth spread over your cheeks at Soobin’s words and compliments. You would have never expected to have such an effect on him. You’d never tell him now how many times you laid in bed right where he was sitting and thought about him as you played with the toys in your drawer. You wouldn’t have the guts to tell him just yet how at night you would think about him and wearing his glasses as he buried his—

“Shit—seriously. You gotta stop lookin’ at me like that. I’m gonna cum in my pants. You really have no idea what you look like.” 

Soobin’s words bring you out of your daydream and back to reality as you let your eyes once again drop to the pillow in his lap. “What do I look like, Soobin?” 

You weren’t trying to be particularly sexy. You weren’t even really sure how to. That wasn’t your “strong” point, but to Soobin, you didn’t have to try. Your innocence was doing it all. Your sweet voice with that layer of teasing was driving him insane as you reached for the pillow, moving it out of his lap and letting you see how hard he really was for you. 

“Ah—fuck. Um… Just—it’s hard to... It’s hard to talk when you’re like this.” Leaning back on your bed to rest on his elbows, Soobin watches you closely as you shift closer to him, your fingers running along his thighs over his jeans. "But, uh, you look like you want me to fuck you. Like, uh, this want in your eyes. ‘Fuck me’ eyes, I guess.” 

Rubbing your lips together, you carefully graze your fingertips over the bulge in Soobin’s jeans, feeling him thrust off the bed towards you. “Maybe I do want that.” Smiling, you tilt your head, your eyes following your fingers as you smoothly undo his jeans, feeling his stomach suck in under your light touch. “You know, one day. This isn’t a one-time thing, right?” 

“God…no.” Shaking his head, Soobin licks his lips and claws at the comforter under him, feeling the drag of his zipper along his hard cock. “I hope not. Trust me, Y/N. I want you so fucking bad. Wanted you for—ah, wait!” Soobin’s voice becomes a whine when you pull away from him to sit back, his eyes widening as he follows you confused. 

“I’m not leaving you. Why are you pouting at me, Binnie?” Standing beside the bed, you sway your hips side to side ever so slightly as you work your leggings down your legs, leaving you in your panties and t-shirt, causing Soobin’s mouth to go dry. “I’m just getting comfortable. You should too.” 

Groaning your name under his breath, Soobin shakes his head as you use a nickname for him as you take off part of your clothes. Yes, he had seen your legs before when you had worn dresses or a skirt before, but this was different—it was so, so, fucking different. He could see the damp spot on the front of your panties; it was making his head spin. 

Soobin quickly sits up and kicks off his jeans, feeling some relief from just a layer of clothes being off, but still his boxers felt sticky against his cock, leaking almost obscenely as you stood in front of him waiting. “You want these off too, pretty?” Trying out the pet name, Soobin watches the smile pull at your lips as you nod and move back to the end of your bed to sit on your knees again. “Okay… Yeah, I can do that.” 

Nerves almost getting the better of him, Soobin digs his thumbs into the top of his boxers and pauses as he starts to lift his hips, hoping he will look good enough for you. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of how he looked, but you felt special to him. He wanted to be perfect for you and look exactly like who you wanted, but this was so sudden that he didn’t know anything about what you liked or wanted in bed. 

You could see the apprehension in Soobin’s face, the way his brows furrowed when he paused. You hadn’t meant to pressure him, if that’s what he was feeling. “You okay? If you don’t wanna take them off, you don’t have to. I can help you with them on or, you know, we don’t have to—” 

“I—woah, no, no! I want to. Just—nervous. What if you don’t like what you see?” 

Shaking your head, you shift closer to Soobin on your hands and knees, not even thinking about how you would look to him or what effect it would have on him until he lets out a shaky breath on a groan. Glancing up at him, that same look in your eyes as before, you smile, sliding your hand over his thigh and tilting your head when it becomes clear to you how turned on he is seeing you like you are on the bed in front of him. “I’m gonna like it, Soobin. You are so handsome. I bet every single part of you is. So... can I see it?” 

Eyes moving over your arched back down to your ass, Soobin shakes his head in disbelief, feeling your fingers walk slowly up his thigh towards his cock. You were either an angel or a demon; he hadn’t figured it out yet, but at the same time, Soobin wasn’t sure it mattered. He’d gladly give up his soul and die like this if it meant feeling your fingers sliding over his cock. 

“Yeah, you can see it. It’s yours, pretty.” Speaking on an exhale, Soobin leans his head back as he relishes in the feeling of your hand molding to the outline of his cock through his boxers. It felt like heaven, and yet it wasn’t enough. He knew he wanted your skin on his. Lifting his hips, Soobin opens his eyes, locking them with yours as he pushes his boxers down and kicks them across the floors before leaning back against your pillows, finally stretching his legs out along your bed. 

You know you should be a bit more subtle; slowly work your way down to looking at Soobin’s cock, but the moment he is laid out on your bed, it’s the first thing you do. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting. You had felt him through his boxers in your hand, and you had known he was on the bigger side, but seeing and feeling were different things. “Wow…” 

“Wow?” While Soobin enjoyed you looking at him, he had expected a bit more than a single word. Lifting his hand from the bed, he nervously runs his fingers along your arm down to your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it as he lifts his brows. Finally meeting your eyes as you lift your head, he smiles at you and watches you glance away shyly at first. “What? Hey, no. Please? I’m half naked here.” 

You knew it wasn’t fair, but you had one of the hottest guys at your school on your bed with his cock hard and out for you; now you were feeling like you might not be skilled enough to help him. “You’re big, Soobin. I’ve never—you know? Someone as big as you. I’m too nervous.” 

Soobin hadn’t been sure that his ego could get as big as it did when you spoke, but his shoulders were suddenly tighter and his chest suddenly felt a bit firmer with how you were looking at him. “Yeah? I— fuck. I don’t… I could make it fi—” Shaking his head, not wanting to sound like a cocky asshole, afraid of sounding like Sunghoon on accident, Soobin slides his fingers along your forearm and back down to your hand, taking it into his. “We don’t have to do anything crazy. Just whatever you feel comfortable with, okay, beautiful?” 

Your heart beats a bit harder at Soobin’s words and how sweet he is by not pressuring you into doing something that was too much too fast. As much as you might want him to fuck you or to try to fit your mouth around him, tonight just wasn’t that night—but that didn’t mean there weren’t other things you couldn’t do. 

Nodding, you bite your lip as you shift on the bed to sit over Soobin’s thighs, hearing him suck in a breath when you do. “This okay?” Getting a nod from him, you smile before cautiously scooting forward and stopping short of his cock, letting it rest against your thigh, his pre-cum smearing along your soft skin. “Lean against the headboard? I wanna kiss you while I do this, if that’s okay.” 

Soobin had never moved so fast in his life at the thought of kissing you. He had wanted to kiss you for months, if not a year or more. He had found himself staring at your lips and not paying attention in several classes more than once since he had first met you... and now it was becoming a reality. 

Scratching your nails along his chest as you finally close the space between you and him, you can’t help the smile that finds your lips when he groans your name, feeling the warmth between your legs. His cock nudges between your legs, the tip firmly pressed against your cotton panties, and Soobin closes his eyes tightly and squeezes your thighs without thinking. 

“Fuck… Please don’t tease me, baby.” 

Soobin hadn’t meant to call you a pet name, but it had slipped off his tongue like sugar against your lips before the first kiss. You weren’t trying to tease him, but he felt so good right where he was. His lips, even brushing against yours, felt so good, but the first real kiss was enough to make you see stars. 

Groaning into your mouth, Soobin slides his fingers along your thighs to your hips, where he squeezes again and pulls you closer to him as he rolls his hips towards yours. His tongue glides along yours before he swallows your soft, sweet moans to keep them for himself, knowing with each moan from your mouth he is leaking against your panties like a teenager, soaking through to your skin. 

It’s when you do finally reach between your legs and wrap your fingers around Soobin’s cock, your smaller hand tightening around his shaft and stroking him from base to tip, that he throws his head back against your headboard, breaking the kiss. “Shit, that feels so good. I’m too worked up, baby. I won’t last if you—ah.” 

You could tell from how Soobin was whining into his groans and the way he was short of breath that he was already close. Pre-cum was running along your fingers, making each stroke of your hand smooth as you rocked your hips towards his until you suddenly released your grip and met his eyes. 

“Wh—why? Why are you teasing me? I was so close. Pretty girl, please!” The last plead from Soobin’s mouth is sharp, his usually deeper voice going up an octave as you sit back on his legs, wrapping your fingers back around his length and pressing his tip against the center of your panties before stroking him against your clothed, warm pussy. 

“Why do you act like I’m punishing you, Binnie? Does this not feel good? What if I just wanted to feel a little bit?” 

Eyes rolling back, Soobin bites his bottom lip as he thrusts up between your hand and panties, feeling the damp cotton under his sensitive cock. There aren’t many thoughts in his brain as he shakes his head and mutters your name, staring to lose himself in the feeling. He finds himself wishing, praying, and hoping to feel your pussy around his cock when he feels soft and warm skin pulling him back to reality. 

Glancing down between your legs, Soobin only has seconds to watch his cock sliding between your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing your clit before he’s done for. Warm, sticky, white ropes paint your lower stomach and folds as Soobin pants through his climax, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Shit, Soobin…” The words fall from your lips on a soft moan as your clit throbs, begging you for more, but you know that he’s done. You can feel Soobin’s cock start to soften in your hand as he whines your name, his fingers still kneading your thighs. 

Searching your face, Soobin watches the pout start to form on your lips, your bottom lip jutting out just slightly as your hand loosens around him and you start to scoot back on your bed. It wasn’t fair. He felt great. You had taken him to heaven and back, yet he could see the disappointment written on your face. That just wouldn’t work for him. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” 

Soobin’s compliment brings your attention back to him, your eyes meeting his as he licks his lips. Quickly your cheeks warm up, words getting caught in your throat as you try to think of the right thing to say—anything when you feel the tightness in your stomach from want though you don’t know or want to ask for something when you had only offered to help. 

“Baby…” Whining the pet name, Soobin slides to his knees, his hands once again finding your hips as he helps you to the center of your bed. “Can I touch you? Make you feel good?” Letting his eyes move between your legs, Soobin groans at the sight of his cum on your stomach and the peek of it between your legs—how your pussy lips aren’t quite covered by your panties that are painted by him. He finds himself wanting to run his finger through it... Put it where it belongs—inside you. “Are you—mmm, this is a really personal question but probably important to ask, since we are in bed together. Are you on birth control?” 

Your thighs tremble at Soobin’s touch, suddenly shy at his attention and his question. It was a valid and fair question, and yet how he asked it made you feel like you were burning up, as if you were right beside an open flame. Unable to find the words, you just nod quickly and suck on your bottom lip. 

“Yes? To which question, pretty girl? I asked two.” 

Closing your eyes, you whine Soobin’s name and lean your head back, causing him to laugh under his breath even as his fingers trail along your thighs. “Both of them. Please… I helped, right? I was good?” 

The question makes Soobin furrow his brows, his throat suddenly dry as if sand were poured in his mouth instead of water. Why were you able to say something so simple and innocent and it sound so filthy? Why did you have this sort of effect on him? Pushing his mouth against his bicep, Soobin nods before moving one hand from your leg to push his glasses up his nose. “Very fucking good, baby. The best. Now let me be good for you.” 

You want to tell Soobin that he is already good, but the words get lost on your tongue when his lips press to your knee as his fingers pull your ruined panties to the side and his other hand is free to explore. Mouth falling open in a silent moan, you try to watch carefully as Soobin’s fingers carefully push your sticky folds apart, giving him access to everything he wants. 

“You got so messy with my cock..." Soobin was muttering, not even really speaking to you as he studied what was in front of him, his thumb circling your clit as he spread his cum along your skin. Finally meeting your eyes again, Soobin swallows hard watching you lick your lips, your chest rising and falling hard and fast with each panting moan. “Can I fuck you with my fingers? That okay?” 

Clinging to the bedding, you nod hard, wanting to feel more of Soobin’s touch. You weren’t blind, and you knew he probably wasn’t either. You had been staring at his hands. His hands were big, his fingers thick, and the idea of Soobin just touching you had you leaking and mewing like a cat in heat. “Yeah, Binnie. Want it, please?” 

You wanted it. That was even better than him asking for permission—hearing you beg for it. Smiling against your leg, Soobin nods as he slowly drags more of his cum down before slowly easing the first finger into you. He had cum, and yet feeling you clench around his finger had Soobin’s cock throbbing against his leg. He could lie to himself and you and say that he was using the cum on your skin as lube to fuck you on his fingers, but in reality you were so wet he didn’t need it—it was an added bonus being able to know that he was inside of you. 

“Doin’ so good, beautiful. Gonna add another one; you can take it.” Nodding along with you, Soobin grins when you cry out his name on a moan when he pushes a second finger in to your pussy alongside the first. Your warm, soft walls hug his fingers and pull them in as if you are trying to fuck yourself, too eager to wait for Soobin to do it. “Like that? Feel good?” 

It was almost a stupid question, but you nod anyway and mutter out a yes and pleas for more. It was almost too easy for Soobin to get you drunk on him and dumb with just his fingers. You could already feel the coil inside of you winding so tight that it was threatening to snap. Each brush of his fingers and every deep thrust as his thumb circled your clit, and muttered praises pushed you to the edge. 

“Good fucking girl, yeah? My girl?” 

Soobin knew that was crazy asking you that, making you admit to being his, but when you nod and repeat the words back to him, it makes his head spin. You might not even mean it; most people didn’t mean what they said during sex, but that was okay. Right now, it didn’t matter if you meant it; he would replay it on a loop for the rest of his life, just like he would never forget the feeling of you cumming on his fingers. 

“Soobin! Yes, yes! Ah… right there!” 

Thighs shaking, tightening around Soobin’s arm, you throw your head back as your orgasm rips through your body, leaving you breathless and spent on your bed. Fingers brush over your cheeks, soft lips meet yours, and you find it impossible not to smile as you return the sweet kiss, feeling Soobin’s arm wrap around you. There was a lot left unsaid. Much of your project was left undone, but you were enjoying the moment as you threw caution to the wind. 

Soobin, on the other hand, was letting his mind run in circles as he held you against him. He wanted this. Not just the sex, but this. He wanted you. He wanted you to say you were his and mean it. But how in the fuck was he supposed to say that when he had just now gotten the courage to talk to you during a stupid ass group project? 

It could wait. Nothing could possibly happen, right? He just needed a little more time to get his shit together.

Sunghoon had been waiting for something, anything from you or Soobin about what the two of you had gotten done the day before for the project, but yet his inbox was looking bare. Maybe the two of you had decided he wasn’t privy to that information. It wouldn’t surprise him if Choi Soobin decided to pull some shit like that, but you? Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t allow it. Would you? 

Sipping on the same beer he had been nursing for an hour, Sunghoon narrows his eyes at the clock on his phone as he bounces his leg along with the music from the next room. Most of the other members of his frat were already pre-gaming, actually enjoying their afternoon, and he was sitting here with a half-stale beer waiting on you. 

It shouldn’t piss Sunghoon off as much as it does, but he doesn’t do shit like this for girls. Not for school... not for any reason. Chicks are chicks, and that’s it, so why do you have him sober while Jake Sim was already throwing up in the sink? 

He was about to give in and get something stronger than his beer when your name caught his attention on his phone. 

Y/N😇: Do I just come in? Should I knock? People are just going inside, but I feel weird. Doesn’t the party start at like 11? 

God, you were so cute; it was killing Sunghoon. You rambled even over text. Sliding off the sofa, Sunghoon pockets his cellphone and pushes past a few of the early comers to open the front door and see you looking around like a lost puppy. 

Devastating. You were devastating him. Fuck, he was screwed. 

“Princess, get your cute ass in the house. Have you never been to a frat party before?” 

Eyes widening, you hold the strap of your bag tighter to your shoulder as you turn to meet Sunghoon’s eyes after hearing his voice. It was a valid question, and yet it made you feel small and insecure. Sunghoon wasn’t like you. He was cool and super rich. Everyone wanted him or to be him. You weren’t much different than them supposed, but you were also the one he was calling princess. 

“Oh… I—no. Not really. I—” 

Scooting to the side as a girl shoots you a dirty look, her attention turning immediately towards Sunghoon, you look away as she coos at him making her way into the house. “Sunghoon! Oh my god, you look so fucking good. Do you wanna, like, you know, chill before—” 

This was what Sunghoon had gotten used to. Maybe that was narcissistic of him to expect it, but he was used to girls throwing themselves at him. Yeah, he had accepted a few offers. He had a reputation, but he liked to have fun. He knew at the end of the day none of these girls mattered. They saw status and dollar signs. He saw tits and a distraction, but when he looked at you, he saw something else—frustration and desire. 

Shaking his head and sidestepping to get away from the pretty girl and her advances, Sunghoon sighs, giving her a half glance. “Nah. I have shit to do.” When you don’t move, making no effort to meet his eyes again, Sunghoon rolls his eyes, moving down the steps to grab your hand, much to the dismay of the girl as you are ushered inside the house past her. “I told you to come inside, baby.”

“Sunghoon…” Your voice is quiet, almost embarrassed, as you meet the eyes of the girl he had turned down when she hears him call you baby. You can feel the daggers come from her eyes and meet your skin until you are finally out of her sight and heading up the stairs away from the music. “Sunghoon.” Saying his name again, you tug back on his hand at the top of the stairs, landing finally managing to get him to look back at you. “There is so much going on downstairs. Aren’t you going to miss it by doing this with me? I’m not nearly as much fun as that. You don’t have to preten–” 

“God, Y/N, shut the hell up already. I said we can work on the project today, and we can.” Pushing his bedroom door open, Sunghoon ushers you inside as your cheeks burn from his words. Watching you move slowly into the room, he narrows his eyes and sighs before running his fingers through his hair. “You’re annoying, you know that?” 

Tears prick at your eyes as you walk towards one of the beds in the room, sitting your bag down on it as Sunghoon moves closer behind you. You weren’t sure what you had done to him to make him be so mean to you, but his words were making your stomach twist up in a knotted mess of anxiety and low self-confidence. 

Hearing you sniff under your breath, Sunghoon closes his eyes and leans his head back, knowing he upset you. It hadn’t really been his intention. He wasn’t great with words. He just said what was on his mind, and you were annoying him. He just hadn’t clarified why. “Fuck, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I—listen, okay?” Hands slide over your arms as Sunghoon slowly turns you towards him, his eyes moving over your face carefully. “What I mean is that you aren’t like the other girls. You make me chase you. I don’t chase girls, Y/N.” 

You could understand every word that Sunghoon was saying, and yet nothing he was saying made any sense to you. Shaking your head, you sniff back your tears and lift your shoulders, causing Sunghoon to groan in annoyance before he cups your face with both of his hands leaning in to press his lips to yours. 

Every cell in your body misfires at the feeling. Your mind screams for you to run. You quickly think of every rumor you have heard about Sunghoon. You picture every heartbroken girl crying over him as he smirks with his friends the very same day, and yet as he kisses you, his tongue gently gliding along your bottom lip, you start to melt into him. You shouldn’t enjoy feeling Sunghoon’s lips on yours, but you do. You whine into the kiss, and Sunghoon’s brows furrow as his entire body reacts to the sweet sound. 

“Holy shit. You sound so pretty, Angel. Do that again for me?” 

Sunghoon was different than Soobin. Every touch was precise and calculated. Each step, while not planned, led you right where Sunghoon knew he wanted you. Knees hitting the end of his bed, causing you to fall backwards with another whine, your back hitting the bed, eyes wide as you look up at Sunghoon. 

Leaning over you to pick up your bag, Sunghoon moves it to the floor before laying over you and putting his lips back on yours. This hadn’t been the plan. He really was planning on being true to his word and working on the project with you, but then you just had to be so fucking cute and so goddamn frustrating, and now Sunghoon was throwing himself at you. 

One hand sliding along your side to your hip, Sunghoon breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with a question hanging in the hair as his fingers play with the end of your dress on your thigh. He would let you say no, but god, he hoped you wouldn’t. He was being pathetic; he could feel his cock throbbing in his pants. The moment you whine his name again and nod, Sunghoon is groaning your name and sliding down in the bed to push your dress up to your stomach. 

“You are so cute, princess. Always dressed so pretty.” Shaking his head, Sunghoon traces your bellybutton with his pinky, watching you suck in your stomach on a deep breath, causing his lips to pull up in a smirk. “Won’t lie, recently I’ve been telling myself you’ve been dressing like this for me... Even if I know it’s probably not.” 

Carefully pushing the tips of his fingers into the elastic of your panties, Sunghoon lifts his brows in a question again before tilting his head and licking his lips. “Can I? Wanna taste you so fuckin’ bad. Been dreaming about it for days.” 

His words have you breathless; you feel almost faint as you nod and lift your hips, letting Sunghoon work your panties down your thighs and off your legs. He had been dreaming about you. More specifically, Park fucking Sunghoon, the wet dream of 90% of all of the girls at your university, had been dreaming about eating you out? There had to be a glitch in the matrix. This couldn’t be happening. You had just spent an evening with Soobin, and now—Sunghoon? 

You don’t get much time to process when Sunghoon’s warm, wet tongue runs from your dripping entrance to your already throbbing clit in one smooth motion. Clinging to the comforter, you gasp Sunghoon’s name, closing your thighs around his head, feeling him chuckle against your folds as his hands wrap around your thighs, working them back apart over his shoulders. 

There was a reason for many of the rumors that Sunghoon was involved in; most of them had a layer of truth to them. It wasn’t Sunghoon’s fault that he was good in bed or that he loved to eat pussy. There was nothing like listening to a girl squeal his name as he drove her crazy with his tongue alone, but you were something special. No one tasted or felt like you. You were driving him crazy. There was enjoying eating a girl out, and then there was enjoying eating you out. This was heaven. 

“Fuck…” Drawing the word out as he runs his fingers over your soft folds, Sunghoon groans, resisting the urge to push his hips against his mattress as he watches your arousal begin to drip and mix with his saliva. Unable to stop himself, Sunghoon uses his thumbs to spread your folds and buries his faces between your legs, hungrily lapping at you like you’re oozing nectar that will sustain him for weeks. 

Any coherent thought you once had was gone. Between Sunghoon’s tongue and the groans he was letting out between your legs, you were dumbstruck. Your thighs had already begun to quiver, your stomach tight as your orgasm hung right on the precipice with each drag over Sunghoon’s devious tongue, but it isn’t until he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks that you lose a battle you weren’t really trying to win. 

“Cumming…ah! Sunghoon!” In your mind, somewhere buried deep down under the pleasure, you could feel the shame wash over you at the same time as you wonder if you were another notch on the bedpost under your hand, but the kisses to your thigh and the sweet praises bring you back to reality. 

“Taste so good. Best fuckin’ girl. Not letting you go, swear to god.” Sunghoon was pussy drunk; he knew it and he knew that you probably knew it, but that didn’t mean the words he was muttering against your skin weren’t real. He loved the feeling of your fingers running through his hair as he licked your cum from his lips, and what Sunghoon loved even more was seeing the fucked-out look on your face, knowing he caused it. “You are so goddamn pretty. No one deserves you; do you know that?” 

He was full of pretty words as he moved up in the bed to lay over you, his lips once against pressing to yours before moving along your jaw and neck. You weren’t sure he was telling you the truth. You wanted someone to deserve you. You weren’t sure if that person was him or Soobin, but... someone. 

Furrowing your brows, you shift in bed, wanting to return the favor. Sliding your hand over Sunghoon’s jeans, you feel him push towards your hand, a soft groan slipping from his lips. 

“You don’t have to do that, Angel, but fuck... I’m so fucking hard.” 

He didn’t have to tell you that. You could feel how hard he was even through his jeans, and you knew you didn’t have to do anything; it was more that you wanted to. You knew something like this could distract you from thinking too hard. This was fun. It was easy. Thinking was too hard. 

Pushing Sunghoon to his back on the bed, you smile shyly, moving to your knees beside him. You feel his eyes on you as you slowly undo his jeans and let him help you push them down with his boxers, letting his cock rest back against his stomach, leaking heavily. 

He was a bit smaller than Soobin—of course you would never tell Sunghoon that, but despite the small size difference, it didn’t mean that his cock wasn’t just as pretty and enticing. You had found yourself taking control with Soobin, but in Sunghoon’s bed you were docile and nervous. You found yourself wanting to prove that you were good enough to be in his bed. 

“It’s yours, baby girl. Whatever you wanna do with it—ah, fuck!” Sunghoon was a talker in bed. He might not be good at words that mattered, but he could dirty talk. Only your mouth around his cock could silence him. Hissing as his stomach tightens, feeling you hollow your cheeks as you take in more of his length, Sunghoon curses under his breath. 

Normally he could handle getting head. Most girls weren’t that great at it if he were honest, and usually he wasn’t. He’d tell them how good their mouth was, that they did a good job, and he’d cum on their lips or wherever they wanted as he jerked himself off, but you—god, he didn’t have to lie to you. Instead, Sunghoon was digging his fingers into his bedding, forcing himself not to cum down your throat after thirty seconds of his cock being in your mouth. 

“So fucking good. Oh, shit. Just—slow down. Baby!” Throwing his head back, eyes rolling back as you let his tip brush the back of your throat, Sunghoon smacks the bed under his hand, pushing his feet into the mattress. You were sucking the soul out of him and not leaving a drop. If this was how Sunghoon was going to die, it was worth it. “Gonna—ah, fuck. It’s too—cumming!” 

Furrowing your brows, you close your eyes tighter when Sunghoon cums in your mouth even after warning you. The salty, sour taste hits your tongue, and rather than letting it linger in your mouth as you pull back, sucking one last time to make sure you have every last drop, you swallow. 

Sunghoon stares at you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath when you sit back on your knees to wipe your lips clean of his cum. He was seeing double, and you literally looked like you were glowing, a halo around you like a real fucking angel. 

“You tried to murder me.” Licking his lips, Sunghoon moves one of his arms over his head to rest his head on his forearm as his eyes start to focus more. He watches the small smile form on your lips—how shy and sweet you look even as you search for your panties on the floor, reaching down to pick them up and pulling them back on. “Are you leaving me? We still have a project to work on, and I thought I had a date to the party.” 

Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you swallow hard, finally meeting Sunghoon’s eyes as he relaxes half naked on his bed as if this is a normal Friday night, which you realize it might be; the shame slipping back in your mind causes you to look away and down at the floor. “Um, I—it’s—you know... Your party starts in like an hour now and I’m not much of a partier—” 

“Y/N… seriously? What did I do wrong?” Sitting up, Sunghoon reaches for his own clothes, pulling them back on before scooting closer to you. When you still won’t look at him, shrugging and adjusting your dress over your lap, he gently cups your chin and guides your head back towards him to make you look at him. “Do you regret what happened? Should I apologize? I just—I thought you wanted me too, and I like you, so…” 

Shaking your head, you sigh and let it out on an exasperated breath, pulling away from Sunghoon. You can’t help but think he’s said this exact thing to every other girl he’s ever fucked in his bed. “I don’t know, kinda... maybe? I’m just—I’m like, what? The flavor of the week? You’ll get bored and move on? It doesn’t feel good, Sunghoon.” As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you feel a different kind of shame wash over you, Soobin’s face in your mind as you realize you’ve done something similar to both of them. “Sorry, that’s not fair. You don’t owe me anything. Neither of you…” 

Furrowing his brows at your words, especially the last, as your volume drops almost to a whisper, Sunghoon shifts closer to you and turns you towards him with both hands on your shoulders. “Could you fucking just talk to me? Not just assume shit? You aren’t the goddamn flavor of the week." Tilting his head, Sunghoon glances towards the sound of the party picking up downstairs as he licks his lips, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Wha—what do you mean, neither of you?” 

Sunghoon’s eyes follow your eyes as you look away, avoiding his eyes. He knew that look; he had given it to other people, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end before. There was someone else besides him. Who else were you hooking up with? As soon as he asks the question in his head, the answer comes to him. There is only one answer. Soobin. 

Nodding as if you had answered him yourself, Sunghoon chews at his cheek, sliding his hands along your arms, comforting you as he thinks of what to say or do, weighing his options. He could be mad. He could lash out at you for not telling him before the two of you did something, but you didn’t owe that to him. How serious were you and Soobin? From how you were acting and from what had happened between you and him, Sunghoon had to assume not very serious. So then that was something else to consider. He could ask you to tell Soobin to fuck off, or he could tell Soobin himself... But looking at your pretty face, Sunghoon could see the conflict written all over it. You liked Soobin. You liked him. You didn’t know what you wanted. 

“Does he know?” 

Shaking your head no, you blink back your tears, causing Sunghoon to move closer to you when he notices them. “Hey… none of that. Why are you crying? I’m not mad at you, baby.” 

“I’m so shitty, Sunghoon. I—who does this? I like you.” 

Nodding, Sunghoon sighs before pressing a kiss to your forehead as tears roll down your cheeks. “You aren’t shitty. It’s a shitty situation, but I’m not gonna flip my shit. Listen, I—he—” Sighing, Sunghoon groans at his own thoughts before leaning his head back in disbelief that he’s the one suggesting it. “Soobin is coming to the party tonight, right? Talk to him. We can talk it out and see what happens. Cool?” 

He made it seem so easy, like they would just shake hands and choose a winner, like you were a prize. Blinking tears from your eyes, you shrug watching Sunghoon shake his head, his thumbs sliding over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. He wasn’t the pretentious fuckboy asshole everyone made him out to be after all. 

“It’s worth trying, baby. I’m willing to see where it goes... for you.”

Sighing into the red solo cup in his hand, Soobin glances around the room, looking for a way out. He hadn’t seen you, and ironically, he hadn’t even seen Sunghoon. It wasn’t like he didn’t know anyone at the party, but this wasn’t his scene. The music was loud, smoke was making his nose feel funny, and he didn’t even like beer that much. 

Soobin wasn’t sure why he had even agreed to this. You had probably ditched on it. He didn’t blame you if you had, but Sunghoon? It was his frat house. Surely he was around here somewhere. 

Glancing towards the stairs, Soobin furrows his brows as he quickly glances away from a couple making out against the wall. That was probably the answer. Sunghoon probably had some poor, pathetic girl trapped in his bed already. Rolling his eyes, Soobin takes a big sip of his drink, starting to turn towards the front of the house when his eyes lock on to you and his stomach tightens with nerves. You were so fucking pretty. God, of course you always were... but it felt different now. You were like a beacon, so bright that it took a few seconds before it dawned on him that Sunghoon was standing behind you with his hand on your hip whispering in your ear. 

It wasn’t fair for Soobin to be upset or jealous. It made sense that you were with Sunghoon. That had been the plan; you were going to meet up with him before the party and work on the project. So why was it making it hard to breathe seeing his hand on you like that? Why did it feel like you were slipping from his fingers and into Park Sunghoon’s arms? 

Soobin downs the rest of his drink, making a sour face as he clenches his fist around the cup, and it crushes easily in his hand. He could give up, walk away, and find the door, but meeting your eyes and seeing the pretty smile on your face has him stuck where he is. There was no world where you were going to smile at him like that; he didn’t at least have a chance. 

Glancing back at Sunghoon, you watch his brows lift in question before he nods his head towards Soobin as he leans down to speak next to your ear over the music. “He looks annoyed, but when isn’t he? I’ll be around; come find me in a bit.” Nodding, you slide your fingers over his on your hip, meeting Soobin’s eyes with a smile on your face. 

“Hey.” You try to talk over the music, but your voice still sounds too small for the space that you are in, even as you move closer to Soobin. “I was—I hoped to find you. You know—that you’d come, you know, here—to the party.” 

Furrowing his brows, Soobin still can’t stop how his lips pull up in a small smile hearing your voice even under the bass of the music. Leaning in a bit closer to you, he glancing behind you, trying to find Sunghoon, but is pleased not to see him lingering. “Well, I promised I would so—” 

“You wanna maybe find somewhere quiet—” The words get cut off by a gasp when you feel your body being pushed towards Soobin’s as someone accidentally knocks into you. Lukewarm beer soaks into the front of your dress, drawing your eyes down to the wet stain starting to spread across your stomach. “Fuck…” 

Soobin had started to nod along with your suggestion. He knew how the sentence ended; you wanted to find somewhere quieter to talk, or maybe something else, but then you had landed in his arms. Letting his eyes follow the girl who had bumped into you seemingly on accident, Soobin frowns when he sees her look back at you and laugh with her friends. It hadn’t been as much of an accident as it had seemed. This was why Soobin hated these sorts of parties. People who came to these things were all assholes. The people who threw these parties were even bigger assholes. 

Taking the cup from your hand, he sighs under his breath as you pout down at your dress, stepping back to assess the damage. You would need to change, and you could feel your cheeks heating up even though no one was really paying that much attention to you; it felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. 

Linking his fingers with yours, Soobin looks for a way out when you tug at his hand, pulling him towards the stairs. That would work. He wasn’t sure what you had in mind, but as long as he was with you, he didn’t care. 

"Man, fuck off. You are too good at this.” Smirking at Heeseung’s complaint as he sinks another ping pong ball into a cup, Sunghoon’s attention is suddenly taken from the table in front of him and towards you as you guide Soobin up the steps. That hadn’t been discussed. He couldn’t help the lump that was forming in his throat at being left out. Tossing Heeseung the last ball in his hand, Sunghoon ignores his roommates questioning looks as he makes his way through the sea of people to follow you.  

“Y/N, you okay?” Soobin could actually hear himself think on the second floor. The music was still loud, but at least the bass was at a dull thud instead of threatening to bust his eardrum. 

Wiping your hand over the front of your dress, you lean back against the wall next to Sunghoon’s bedroom door, letting out a sigh. This wasn’t going how you had planned. You were starting to get a headache, and you smelled like stale beer. There was so much you wanted to say to Soobin as he looked at you with those big, puppy dog eyes... And now it was harder; the guilt was starting to wash over you again. 

“I’m fine. It’s just a dress. I—Soobin…” 

Furrowing his brows at your hesitation, Soobin takes a step towards you, resting his hand on your waist. He could feel the tension in the air. Something had changed, and now he felt like he had to do something, anything, to keep things in his favor. “What? Why do you look sad? Can’t stand it. What’s wrong, baby?” 

Your hands move to hold Soobin’s biceps when he moves closer, pressing his body against yours. You know you should tell him to wait, to just stop until the two of you have really talked, but then he calls you baby, and all your hesitation melts away. Brushing your lips against his, you whimper Soobin’s name, feeling his knee slide between your legs, pinning you to the wall in the middle of the hall. 

“You’re just needy? Maybe you missed me?” 

Where had this Soobin come from? Meeting his eyes, you whine out a yes against his lips that barely rest over yours. There was something in his eyes that was different. His gaze was locked on you, intense—possessive, as his thigh pressed against you. 

“In the middle of the hallway? And I didn’t even get an invite?” 

Sunghoon’s voice brings you and Soobin out of your lust-filled haze and back to reality. You glance at him over Soobin’s shoulder, a small smile on your face. Soobin, on the other hand, clinches his teeth and lowers his head, feeling annoyance rush through him. “Of fucking course he’d show up.” 

This had been one of the reasons you had wanted to talk to Soobin in the first place. This was your fault for not saying anything before things started to get out of hand with Soobin, but it was crazy how much both of them affected you. Sliding your hands along Soobin’s chest, you shake your head and meet his eyes as he tilts his head, obviously confused. “Don’t be like that, okay? I—see, I need to talk to you about something. Things happened, Binnie…” 

Licking his lips, Soobin glances from you to Sunghoon over his shoulder before sighing out his words. “What things?” 

“Things that maybe we can talk about in my room?” 

Sunghoon was right. You had gotten caught up in the moment, but now that you were more aware of your surroundings, you could feel the embarrassment washing over you from how many people were walking through the hall to get to other rooms. Taking Soobin’s hand, you gesture with your head towards the door, hearing him sigh one more time before he gives in. Opening the door, he let’s Sunghoon follow behind, locking it. 

“So, now does someone wanna fill me in on what I’m clearly missing?” 

You could almost feel the frustration and hesitation radiating off of Soobin as his fingers trailed from yours. Following him with your eyes first, you pout at Sunghoon before moving towards Soobin, your fingers fidgeting with the end of your dress at your thigh. “I don’t want you to be mad at me or at Sunghoon—” 

“Y/N, just tell me what the fuck happened.” 

Slightly taken back by the tone of Soobin’s voice, you drop your dress from your fingers and sigh, lifting your hands and dropping them back at your sides. It wasn’t like you were dating either one of them. You hadn’t committed yourself to either one. You hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“We did stuff, you know, like... together.” You weren’t really sure how to explain it. It wasn’t like you had fucked Sunghoon. You hadn’t fucked Soobin either, but either one could have ended up that way. “I—I like you, Soobin.” 

Tilting his head at the second part of your explanation, Soobin’s mouth opens and then closes. He was a bit confused. You and Sunghoon had “done stuff together." What, like you had done stuff with him? Now you were telling him that you liked him? It felt like Soobin was on a rollercoaster, and he had just hit the top of a drop only to get stuck with that feeling of his stomach in his throat. “Explain that to me, Y/N, ‘cause... I don’t get it.” 

Rolling his head, Sunghoon leans his head back, resting against his desk, as Soobin makes you explain yourself. It wasn’t that hard; he had figured it out so surely Soobin could do the same. “Seriously, dude? Put two and two toget—” 

“Stay the fuck out of it, Sunghoon. I’m not talking to you yet.” Soobin hadn’t meant to sound as pissed as he did when he snapped at Sunghoon, but he was confused, and it wasn’t as easy as he was trying to make it out to be. At least it wasn’t to Soobin. 

Holding his hands up, Sunghoon gives Soobin an impressed look before crossing his arms and shutting his mouth. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know." Your voice had gotten small. The sound of it made both Soobin and Sunghoon’s stomach’s tighten; the urge to move to you and to make you feel better is strong, but both stayed where they were and let you speak. “I do like you. I like you both. I know that’s weird and it’s stupid. I have to figure it out... I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m not like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Shaking your head, you furrow your brows, glancing towards the door, your voice once again dropping in volume. “I should just go home and leave you guys alone.” 

Watching you start to turn towards the door, your feet moving in that direction with that sad look on your face has Soobin headed towards you faster than he realized he could even move. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you back against his chest and rests his lips against your head, taking a deep breath of you unwilling to let you just go. “Stop it. I’m not—it’s not ideal, no, but I’m not mad. It’s confusing, yes, but I’m willing to figure it out with you.” 

You close your eyes to the feeling of Soobin’s warm breath against you, his fingers pressing against your wet dress over your stomach as he keeps you against him. “And with Sunghoon?” 

Groaning under his breath, Soobin glances towards the other man before wrapping his other arm around you and walking backwards towards the unmade bed sitting on it so you can rest on his lap. “Fuck, I guess so. Whatever this fucking means, I’ll figure out how to make it work.” 

“You make it sound like I’m a bad date.” Pushing away from the desk, Sunghoon smirks at you and Soobin once he gets closer. “And for the record, I already said I’d make it work. I’m pretty good at sharing. Seems like I’m better at it than you, Soobin.” 

Shaking his head, Soobin presses his lips to your neck, unable to stop himself when he hears you finally laugh, even if its at Sunghoon’s stupid attempt at a joke. He loved that sound—the sound of you happy. Happy looked good on you, and if he had his way, that’s how you’d always look. None of that pout on your lips like you had been just a few minutes ago. That shit had broken his heart and made him want to climb mountains to fix shit for you. 

“Shut up, Sunghoon. You talk too fucking much.” Smiling against your neck, Soobin tests the waters by sliding his hands along your hips and down to your legs, feeling them part at his touch. “I can share... a bit, if that’s what you want me to do, pretty girl.” 

Nodding, you slide your hands over Soobin’s, guiding them along your thighs and pushing your dress up as you turn your head towards his, capturing his lips between words. “Uh huh, share me, please?”  

“Greedy little angel. One just isn’t enough?” Grinning at your shy reaction and how you tuck your face against Soobin’s neck, shaking your head no to answer his question, Sunghoon runs his fingers along your warm cheek. “That’s okay, baby, but I wanna know something. You never told me. What did you and Soobin do without me? ‘Cause I’m sure he wants to know what you and I did when we played earlier.” 

That had Soobin’s attention. As jealous as he was that Sunghoon had touched you somehow, he was trying to give into it and make it work as you rocked your hips over his hardening cock. He was very curious what you and Sunghoon had been up to and why you were whining Sunghoon’s name as he chuckled your name in return, urging you to spill the details. 

“Go on, baby girl. It’s a safe space with us, right, Soobin? We won’t judge our baby.” 

Helping you spread your legs over his, Soobin nods along with Sunghoon’s words before trailing his fingers along your soft thighs. “I won’t judge you. Go ahead, sweetheart, tell him. I wanna know too.” 

Shivering to Soobin’s light touch, you arch your back, managing to roll your hips down over Soobin’s lap once again, granting yourself a deep groan against your ear. “I—mmm, fuck. Soobin and I—we... I used my hand.” Whining softly, you meet Sunghoon’s eyes as he bites his lips, nodding for you to continue. “And against my—” Stopping short out of embarrassment, you glance back to Soobin, who smiles softly at you, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. 

“You teased me with your pussy, didn’t you, pretty? Got me so close but didn’t let me put my cock inside of you.” Soobin smiles against your lips when you shake your head, whining in protest that you weren’t teasing him. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to us. You aren’t a fucking liar, Y/N. You’re a real slut when you really want it, and that’s okay, baby, ‘cause why?” 

Stealing a kiss from Soobin, you lean your head back, moaning softly to the feeling of his lips against your throat and his fingers barely brushing over the center of your panties. “You touched me. You helped me too. Ah, Binnie… please? Do it again? Put them in?” 

“That what he did? Binnie? Did Binnie fuck you with his fingers, princess?” Lifting his brow when you finally give him some attention, Sunghoon smirks at you, letting his eyes drop to Soobin’s fingers, brushing over the wet spot growing on your panties. “You give him a cute name, and yet while you were in my bed, I didn’t get any of that shit. I’m hurt—” 

“No, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know if you’d like it. Hoonie?” Pouting at Sunghoon, you watch his smirk only get wider at the shortening of his name, his hand squeezing lightly over his obviously hard cock through his jeans as he watches Soobin finally pull your panties to the side. 

“I do like it, baby. Now tell Soobin about our playtime together while you drip on his fingers.” Scoffing, Sunghoon runs his free hand over his mouth, realizing what he is saying and how lucky he is to be in this room with you and even Soobin. Nothing was going to compare to this. He was harder than he had ever been in his entire life, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to touch you yet. It was almost enough watching another man’s fingers slide through your soft pussy lips and your thighs jerk in reaction. 

“Yeah, okay. Ah!” Biting your lips, you nod, trying to focus as Soobin’s middle finger circles your clit slowly. “Hoonie ate me out, felt really good.” 

Lifting his head towards Sunghoon, Soobin lifts his brow and rolls his eyes openly as Sunghoon grins at him. “Yeah? He made you feel good? He better. Did he make you cum with just his tongue, pretty girl?” 

Trying to remember, you lean your head back on Soobin’s shoulder as you nod once again, pushing down towards his hand. “Mmhm, yeah. He’s good, his mouth. Oh my god, Binnie, more?” 

“When I’m ready, little slut.” Soobin’s sweet voice against your ear sends shivers down your spine as his finger circles your wet hole. “What did you do for Hoonie since he was so good for you, hm?” 

Grabbing Soobin’s forearm, you feel tears gathering on the rims of your eyes as he barely pushes his finger inside of you, rocking his finger back and forth patiently waiting for your answer. When the tears roll down your cheeks, Sunghoon tilts his head, taking another step towards you to push them away gently, making sure you are okay. 

“He—oh… Uh, I—I sucked his cock, right? I did okay?” Meeting Sunghoon’s eyes, you find him smiling at you, his fingers lingering on your jaw when you finally speak up. 

“Better than okay, angel. Never had someone go down on me like that before. The things your mouth can do…” 

Soobin could feel the jealousy rising in him once again. Yes, he had gotten time with you; he had felt your skin against his, your pussy against his cock, his fingers inside of you like he was now, but Sunghoon had felt something different. Taking a breath to steady himself, Soobin nods against the side of your head. He breathes in the scent of your perfume and body wash, letting it wash over him and calm him down. He had promised to try to share. 

Pushing his finger into you deeply, Soobin feels your body react, how your walls clench around him and how you try to roll your hips over even just a single finger to get more. “You got all of that today and you still want more? You’re still fucking yourself on my finger? What else do you want, huh? My cock?” Meeting Sunghoon’s eyes, Soobin almost challenges him before he smirks and sighs against your ear giving in. “Sunghoon’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes... please? I need more. I’ve been so good for both of you, haven’t I?” 

Sunghoon couldn’t argue against that and the look on Soobin’s face told him that he couldn’t either. Though Soobin was a bit less enthused with how this was starting and he was still getting the girl, there was some poetic justice buried deep in this tangled mess. 

“Course you have, baby, but you gonna let me taste you? I don’t think it’s very fucking fair I haven’t gotten to. You can’t take anyone’s cock in this tight little hole if you aren’t stretched out a little  anyway." Soobin hisses out the last of his words against your cheek as he adds a second finger, carefully working it into you beside the first feeling your warm, wet wall throb around them. “How are you gonna sit on my cock like this? You can barely take my fingers, pretty girl. You want my tongue too?” 

Soobin’s dirty talk had you drooling and feeling dumb as you nodded along with everything he was saying. The sweet boy who had been ready to get on his hands and knees for you yesterday had you dripping like a common slut around his fingers today as Sunghoon watched curiously. 

“If that’s what you want, princess, then get your ass up and sit with me. What isn’t fair is just watching. We are sharing, so let’s fucking share.” Sitting on the bed behind you and Soobin, Sunghoon rests his back against the headboard and pats his thighs as you and Soobin look back at him. “Won’t fuckin’ ask again. Fair is fair. You can get between her legs, Binnie.” 

Biting at his tongue, Soobin slowly slides his fingers from you, listening to your pitiful whines as he does. When you stand up and move away from him, he wants to scream and pull you back, but he watches instead as Sunghoon grins at you, grabbing the end of your dress and sliding it up your legs. 

“Good fuckin’ girl, Angel. You don’t need this anymore. I didn’t get to see anything, ‘cept your pretty little cunt earlier, huh? Let’s see all of you.” 

Lifting your arms, you bite at your lips as Sunghoon helps you out of your now stained dress, leaving you in your unmatching bra and panties. Crossing your arms over your stomach, you glance down before you feel Sunghoon’s fingers on your chin lifting your head back up towards him so he can meet your eyes. "Uh, uh, none of that shit. You are perfect. Prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever had in my bed, swear to god. Come here…” 

Long, skilled fingers make quick work of the clasp of your bra so that Sunghoon can work the straps down your arms, letting you drop the garment into the floor at your feet. You watch as he shakes his head, a smirk on his lips, his fingers walking the line of the top of your panties before he helps you slide them down and letting gravity do the rest. 

“So pretty, baby.” 

Soobin’s voice brings you back to the room. Your head had started to get cloudy with Sunghoon’s fingers tracing your skin, but that voice brought you back to reality. Meeting his eyes, you smile at Soobin as he stands up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before quickly getting rid of his jeans and boxers, not leaving you the only one naked in the room. 

Just like the day before, you can’t help when your eyes fall to Soobin’s cock. It surprises you again how big he is and how pre-cum is dripping from his tip as he puts his knee on the bed and reaches for you, pulling you towards him for a kiss as Sunghoon shifts to his knees undressing behind you. 

It isn’t until you feel skin against your back that you realize that Sunghoon is naked too. Hands grip your hips and you feel his cock bump against your outer thigh as Sunghoon chuckles next to your ear, hearing your soft gasp. “What? You didn’t want my clothes off too? I can put them back—” 

“No, oh my god, please don’t.” You knew that Sunghoon was teasing you. You knew that he wouldn’t get dressed again, but yet you felt like you had to beg him to stay like he was so that you could feel his firm chest against your back as his hands found your breasts and squeezed gently, bringing a moan from your throat and into Soobin’s mouth. 

“So pretty, god, I love when you sound like that. Lean back against him, Y/N. I wanna taste you so bad.” There was the whine in Soobin’s voice that you had heard yesterday. He sounded desperate again and you were dripping down your thigh because of it as Sunghoon settled back against the headboard and let you rest between his legs with his cock against your back. 

Patting your thighs, Sunghoon guides your legs over his and smiles against your neck when you do as you are told. “There you go, beautiful; give him some room to work.” 

Soobin wants to tell Sunghoon he doesn’t need his help for this, but the moment he spreads your legs for him, that all dies on his tongue at the sight. He had seen you before, but this was different; Soobin could watch the slick drip from you and run towards the bed as you anticipated him. It all had his mouth watering, and he couldn’t wait anymore. 

Sliding down in the bed, his face level with your pussy, Soobin groans as he uses his thumbs to pull your folds apart, watching how they try to stick together from how wet you are. With one last glance up at you, Soobin closes the gap and flattens his tongue against you letting you feel the drag from your ass to your clit in one slow, smooth movement. “Fuck this pussy..." Soobin wasn’t even sure what he was saying; all he knew was heaven was between your legs and he was tasting it. With each pass of his tongue through your folds, he lets his nose nudge against your clit before getting frustrated when his glasses bump against your thigh, causing him to growl into each groan. 

For you seeing Soobin between your legs, his glasses fogging up as he ate you like his last meal was a wet dream come true. You could almost see yourself covering his glasses with your cum, but after a few minutes, Soobin takes that from you when he angrily rips them from his face, putting them on the bed, making you whine out a no and making Sunghoon laugh behind you. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Are you mad, Soobin isn’t fucking you with his tongue and keeping his glasses on?” Tsking as you try to turn your face from him, Sunghoon uses one hand to turn your face back towards him as he reaches for Soobin’s discarded glasses with the other carefully putting them on himself, lifting his brows at how strong the prescription turns out to be. “You’ve got some interesting kinks, princess. Tell me, you want to fuck me harder now that I’m wearing them?” 

Moving your eyes over Sunghoon’s face, you can’t help but moan even louder when Soobin pushes his tongue into you, his thumb on your clit massaging it in tight circles. There was no way you could lie your way out of this so you just nodded instead. 

“What a little slut we have on our hands, Soobin.” Pushing the glasses up to the top of his head, his soft hair pushed back under them, Sunghoon smirks at you as your eyes follow his every move with the glasses. “Don’t you worry about them, baby girl. I’ll keep them safe right here. Why don’t you cum on his tongue like a good girl?” 

Glancing up at you and Sunghoon, Soobin groans against your folds before turning his attention fully back to you, as if demanding that you follow through with what Sunghoon is asking you to do. If Soobin had his way, you wouldn’t be cumming on anyone else’s tongue besides his. He would even keep it from Sunghoon if he could. But looking up the length of your body and feeling your hips roll against his tongue, Soobin knew that wasn’t going to happen. You were enjoying being between them both too much and he was getting off on it more than he would be willing to admit out loud. 

“Good fucking girl.” Chuckling against the shell of your ear, Sunghoon traces each of your nipples, feeling you arch against his chest. You were driving him crazy and it was making his cock throb to have you rocking your body against his as Soobin ate you out like someone who hadn’t eaten in weeks. He knew you were sweet—the best thing he had even tasted, but there was something feral about how Soobin was almost growling possessively between your legs as he licked up every last drop of your cum. It was impressive. 

“You got his face messy, Princess. The things we’d do for you. Look at that... " Fingers grip your chin tightly as Sunghoon tilts your head down so you can watch Soobin kiss your thighs, finally moving away from your pussy. “Face that has graced our university’s prestigious little newsletter so many fucking times because he’s some goody two shoes—” Smirking, Sunghoon meets Soobin’s eyes as he narrows his eyes back up at him from between your legs. “All covered in a pretty girl’s cum.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Sunghoon, and move. I’m fucking her first.” 

Sunghoon slides his hands to your waist and shakes his head as he nuzzles his nose against your neck, listening to you whine out a soft moan. You were so gone, just a dumb little fuck toy for them to play with at this point that it didn’t even matter, but it mattered to him. “No. Why the hell do you get to go first? You already got to go first—” 

Lifting your head, you lick your lips and force yourself to focus on Sunghoon and Soobin arguing. It was ridiculous and just like when the group project had begun, no one seemed to care what you thought—until you spoke up. “Why can’t I choose? It is me you’re fucking.” 

That was a good point and it caused both men to stop bickering immediately. Hands trail along your sides as Sunghoon nods along with you, his lips finding your ear as he kisses it gently. Soobin also nods, his fingers lifting yours towards his wet lips for a lingering kiss on your knuckles as he tries to wait patiently, hoping you’ll make the right decision. 

“I—” Now that you had their attention and the ball in your court, it was scary and overwhelming. Soobin’s cock was right in front of you, thick and enticing you to climb into his lap while Sunghoon’s pressed against your back, leaking on to your skin, reminding you that you could so easily let him ease you on to it. Thinking was hard, but after a moment you just sigh into a pout and meet Soobin’s eyes, making him tilt his head like a question. “Can I have both? Is that too greedy?” 

It was incredibly greedy, but it made Sunghoon’s lips pull up into a full smile as he held you closer to him. “That what you want? You want to be full?” 

The words cause your face to heat up instantly when you remember how good at dirty talk Sunghoon is. Nothing seemed to really phase him; he would just say what he wanted to and get it—just like now as you nod, turning your head to meet his eyes even with your face so close to his. 

“Fuck…” Soobin could feel his cock jerk involuntarily against his thigh at your words and the way you were shyly looking at Sunghoon. He had never done this before, but for you, he’d figure it out. From how Sunghoon was acting, this wasn’t his first rodeo and that somehow made perfect sense. If this had been any other day, Soobin might have been more annoyed. He probably would have made some comment about how much of a whore Sunghoon was, but right now he was grateful for his experience as he ushered you into Soobin’s arms and sighed. 

“What—” Closing his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck, Soobin groans, feeling you slide over his thigh. Your warm, wet pussy gliding over his skin almost scrambles his brain as he tries to keep his wits about him and ask logical questions. “Pretty girl, you’re killing me.” Scooting along the bed with you to where Sunghoon once was, Soobin rests against the headboard, letting you rock your hips over his thigh. Holding your hips, he glances from you towards where Sunghoon searches through the nightstand beside the bed on the other side of the room. “The fuck are you looking for?” 

Making a triumphant sound as he holds up a small bottle of lube and a couple of condoms, Sunghoon glances back towards you and Soobin before letting out a low groan at the sight. “Baby… I was hurrying. So fucking desperate you are trying to get off on his thigh like a cat in heat?” Dropping the items on the bed beside you, Sunghoon leans to kiss your shoulder before groaning in disbelief as you lean your head back and rest your hands on Soobin’s shoulder for stability, trying hard to get yourself off as he looks down at you. “Our pretty little needy slut. You want me to fuck your ass? Huh? Yeah, well, you are gonna have to let me prep it first or it’s gonna hurt too much.” 

Suddenly your hips come to a stop, your orgasm lingering on the edge as Sunghoon slaps your hip. You watch him offer one of the condoms to Soobin as he puts the other between his teeth, ripping the foil open with ease. With one small shuddered groan, Sunghoon manages to roll the condom on and turns his attention back to the bottle of lube. 

“Be gentle with her. Be still, baby.” Cooing into his words, Soobin runs his fingers along your cheek to your hairline, never taking his eyes off you. He hadn’t minded feeling you grind on his thigh, but he could understand why Sunghoon wanted you to be still. He didn’t want any of this to hurt you. He was glad it seemed that he was going to be the one who was going to be in your pussy; the idea of doing anything else made Soobin’s anxiety spike. He had been told enough times that his cock was big, including by you, but he wasn’t ready to try to figure out the logistics of what Sunghoon was doing. 

“Yeah, be still, baby. Hoonie is trying to work... Sit up on your knees for me, Princess; let me see that ass. Fuck…” This wasn’t something that Sunghoon had done often. None of these supplies were his, but the person he was borrowing from had invited him to participate in a couple threesomes and he had watched it being done. Warming the lube between his fingers, Sunghoon rests his free hand on your ass before he carefully drags his lubed fingers over your tight hole, watching it clench. “Relax.” 

That was easier said than done, but taking a deep breath, you nod and lean your forehead on Soobin’s shoulder, arching your back to let yourself give into the experience. The first finger up to Sunghoon’s knuckle has you digging your toes into the bedding as your breath caught in your throat until he eases his finger in more, letting more of the cold lube run between your ass and over his fingers with each slow movement. 

“Okay, Angel?” 

“Mmhm. Feels weird, but I like it.” 

Sunghoon could tell you were already pushing your hips back towards his finger after just a couple minutes of him letting you get used to one. “Want another? And how ‘bout a distraction?” 

Nodding quickly to both, you glance over your shoulder to Sunghoon, finding him smirking at you. “Yeah, Hoonie, please? I’m—it feels good, but I’m empty. I want something. I wanna do something.” 

Soobin furrows his brows and leans his head to the side to watch Sunghoon’s fingers as he holds your ass firmly with one hand and slides his finger out almost all the way before putting them together and slowly pushing them back in. The sound that comes out of your mouth is enough to make Soobin wish he were already inside of you or that he prayed more often. 

“That’s it… You are so tight, beautiful. Gotta stretch you out, huh?” Nodding towards Soobin, Sunghoon keeps his brows furrowed in concentration as you dig your nails into Soobin’s shoulders. “You have a perfect distraction in front of you, Princess. Mark him up, make him pretty. The other girls around campus won’t know what the fuck happened when Choi Soobin shows up on Monday.” 

Whining under his breath, Soobin meets Sunghoon’s eyes before glancing down into yours as you smile at him. He wasn’t against it, but it wasn’t the other girls he was concerned about. He had classes and professors who looked at him like he was going to be part of leading the next generation on the business front, and he couldn’t really be covered in hickies. “I—just nothing visible—” 

“Yes visible. Baby, let them see who you own. Fuck that. You want us both, right? I’d be proud to wear them. You aren’t proud, Binnie? 

With his eyes darkening with a challenge, Soobin grits his teeth before baring his neck for you. This wasn’t how he was going to lose to Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to prove he was more worthy of you just because he was more willing to display that he had been in bed with you. That was ridiculous; Soobin wasn’t ashamed of it… He’d gladly take anything you gave him, no matter who saw the lingering marks—classmates, professors, or his parents. 

Running your fingers along Soobin’s neck, you whimper under your breath as Sunghoon’s fingers scissor into you slowly. It was tempting to mark Soobin and to leave him ruined for anyone else. You wanted to do it to both of them. You did want both of them. You perhaps didn’t know how much you wanted it until Sunghoon said it and then you couldn’t help yourself. 

At first you simply press a kiss to Soobin’s neck, enjoying the soft groan that spills from his lips, but quickly the kisses turn into bites as you suck on his skin, which has him holding on to you tightly. With each deep thrust of Sunghoon’s fingers, another finger added, lust drips from you and finds its way to Soobin as you moan against his skin, making him yours. 

Feeling his third finger moving with a bit more ease inside of you, Sunghoon smirks when you start to pant into your moans against Soobin’s throat. He could see the red splotches covering the other man’s skin and he couldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t want that for himself. He wanted you to mark him as much as he wanted to mark you. He wanted to ruin you for anyone else besides him. The only fucking person he would ever let touch you again would be Soobin and that was only because it’s what you wanted. 

“Gonna cum? From me fingering your ass? My dirty little princess is full of surprises.” Sunghoon listens to you sob out a moan when his fingers slip from you and leave you empty and right on the edge of your orgasm, once again edging you. “I love when you cry like that, Angel. I’d rather you cum on a cock. You wanted them so bad, you’ve made Soobin wait... sit on it.” 

That was music to Soobin’s ears. His skin was on fire and he was starting to be afraid he was going to cum from just your mouth on his neck. Leaning his head back for a deep breath, Soobin licks his lips and focuses his eyes on you. “Ready, baby?” Sliding his hand to your hip, he strokes his cock from tip to base one time with the other, keeping himself in place for you. 

“Mhm, please? Sunghoon is being bossy.” 

Your voice is quiet and teasing, but just loud enough for Soobin to hear, making him laugh. Nodding along with you, he starts to speak to tell you that you are right, when all words die on his tongue as you slide your hips forward and over his shaft and fingers much like you had the day before. 

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.” 

You could tell that Soobin was being serious, and yet it was too tempting to keep teasing him. You almost wanted to see what would happen if you kept teasing him. In your mind, you could picture him throwing you down on the bed and fucking you hard and fast. Every scenario in your mind had you dripping over and more over his fingers and cock so when he does finally snap, growling your name, you barely have time to react. 

“I said don’t fucking tease me. You want to be bossed around, little slut?” Fingers dig into your hip as Soobin pulls you against his chest and nudges his cock into your entrance, lowering you down over him carefully. “You want me to just use you like a toy?” 

“You know she does. She’s pushing your buttons for a reason, Soobin.” Knocking one of Soobin’s legs to the side, Sunghoon moves to his knees behind you as he strokes his cock, his hand covered in the same lube he had used to prep you. “Just wants her little holes filled up so she doesn’t have to think, right princess?” 

Sunghoon waits until Soobin has you settled completely on his cock before he repeats the process he had with his finger with the head of his cock. He watches how you clench around nothing before he painstakingly eases himself into you, letting you adjust and fall forward towards Soobin. 

There are no words spoken at first, only moans and deep breaths, as each one of you has to focus on not letting go in that exact moment. You feel overwhelmingly full and Sunghoon and Soobin struggle with how tight you suddenly are and how even without moving they can almost feel each other inside of you, making their head’s spin with how different it is. 

“Shit… Someone’s gotta move. She’s too tight. I’m gonna cum if we don't.” 

Nodding along with Sunghoon’s pleas, Soobin holds your hips steady as he makes the first move, rocking his hips up towards yours. A chorus of moans fills his ears, including his own, causing him to repeat the motion only deeper and harder than the first. 

Sunghoon rests his head forward on your shoulder, letting Soobin move you over him like a toy. He knew he should be trying to do more, but you felt so tight around his cock that he felt like he was going to explode at any moment. You sounded too good and the entire experience was too good; he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was—but he was just letting himself go. 

You were too far gone. You were full and the moment that Soobin started to move, that was it. There were no more thoughts that could ever enter your mind. There were only Soobin and Sunghoon. You didn’t need anything else to survive. No water or food would ever sustain you like they would. Only being in their arms, having them in your life, or them making you feel this good could keep you alive. 

No one had to tell Soobin or Sunghoon that you were going to cum. You weren’t saying any words that made sense at this point, only whines and their names, but they didn’t need words to tell them what was coming. Your body was telling them everything. Even though Sunghoon wasn’t the one you were cumming around, it didn’t matter; he could feel it. You were tighter and it took him over the edge with you so quick that he didn’t have time to catch his breath. 

Soobin tried to commit the moment to memory for the rest of his life as if this would never happen again. The feeling of your soft walls closing on his cock as he buried himself completely inside of you, only to feel how you didn’t want to let him go when your orgasm ripped through you. Nothing about how his own climax followed suit was elegant, but it was something he would remember as Soobin groaned your name loudly and thrust into you hard and fast, hearing not only you but Sunghoon say his name when he came hard. 

You weren’t sure who moved you or cleaned you up, but it wasn’t until the sun was peeking through the window the next morning that you realized that you were still in Sunghoon’s room. Lifting your head, you furrow your brows, feeling an arm over your stomach and legs tangled with yours. 

On one side of you, Sunghoon had his cheek squished into a pillow of a bed that he and Soobin had apparently pushed together with his in order to make a bed big enough for the three of you to sleep in. On the other side, Soobin lay on his back, arm over his eyes, letting you get a clear view of your art work beginning to bloom along his neck. 

Glancing down, you bring the shirt covering your upper half to your nose, realizing you don’t recognize it but it must be one of Sunghoon’s. They had even taken time to dress you after you passed out. Your body was sore; you felt like you could lay back down between them and sleep the day away, but then your mind starts to wander and the confusion and shame starts to seep in, causing you to look for the emergency exit as you wiggle from under the sheet, trying not to wake either of them. 

“Where are you going, baby?” Peeking under his arm as you struggle with the sheet tangled around your foot near Sunghoon, Soobin yawns under his breath before stretching. You were even cuter this morning. God, he was screwed when it came to you. He had never cooperated so much with Sunghoon in his life as he did when you had fallen asleep and they had to clean you up. Reaching for his glasses, Soobin pushes them up his nose and rocks his neck back and forth as he sits up, watching you settle on your knees in the middle of the bed, realizing you had gotten caught. 

“Um… nowhere?” 

“Liar… You moved my covers. It’s cold. Can’t you lie to me from under the covers, Princess? Come back to bed.” Sunghoon’s voice is whiny and makes your heart tighten as he reaches blindly towards you, his fingertips running over your knee before resting on your leg as he yawns. 

“I think—I thought maybe I should go home. Let you guys do whatever it is you do—” 

“Ouch. The walk of shame?” Sighing louder, Sunghoon turns on his back, exasperated that you had made him get out from under the covers and look at you. 

Opening your mouth and closing it a few times, you shake your head before looking down in defeat and nodding while shrugging. “I guess so. It was just sex, right? So I just need to bite the bullet and put on my big girl pants and get over it.” 

Looking around in confusion, Soobin runs his fingers through his hair before Sunghoon laughs and sits up, putting his face in his hands, still laughing as you whine his name embarrassed. 

“It’s not funny, Sunghoon! Oh my god… Why are you making fun of me now? Was I that much of a joke—” 

Reaching out for your arm, Sunghoon pulls you back towards the top of the bed where he and Soobin are, causing you to gasp in surprise by being forced to move so suddenly. “I am making fun of you, idiot. You aren’t a joke, but this is some kind of joke if you think you are still the flavor of the week. I already told you that I like you. I don’t pass that out like currency, Y/N.” When you wiggle in his arms, Sunghoon rolls his eyes and looks down at you annoyed before looking at Soobin for help. 

“We said we’d figure it out, Y/N. Don’t you want to?” Shifting a bit closer on the bed, Soobin holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “I don’t sleep around and I don’t do this. I don’t have threesomes, especially with—” Letting out a sigh, realizing he doesn’t want to fight with Sunghoon or push his buttons, despite their past relationship, Soobin tilts his head and leans down to push his lips against yours as you rest against Sunghoon’s chest. “Wanna give it a try?” 

You must still be asleep. This must be a weird, fucked up, wet dream that you were going to wake up from. Opening your eyes, you glance down at your arm before pinching it and wincing loudly, causing both Sunghoon and Soobin to laugh in disbelief. “I’m not dreaming.” 

"No, you idiot... God, you are so cute.” It was Sunghoon’s turn to kiss you; if you thought you were dreaming, he wanted to help you realize you weren’t and it wasn’t fair that Soobin had already gotten a kiss and he hadn’t. Letting his lips linger on yours, Sunghoon lets his fingers fall from your jaw and watches you open your eyes once more, your chest rising and falling quickly as you seem to realize it’s all real and you nod. 

“Two boyfriends is a pretty good deal, Princess. We are both smart, handsome, and wealthy. We’d spoil—” 

Loud knocking at the door makes you jump against Sunghoon and Soobin’s arms before you all hear a loud sigh and a pleading voice. “Just tell them yes and get the fuck out of my room. I need to get some clothes and take a shower!” 

Wincing at Heeseung’s voice, Sunghoon gives you a strained smile before looking around the room and back at the door. “Can—hey Hee? Can you give us like an hour?” 

“No! Fuck, no man!” 

More insistent knocking makes you wince and recoil in the bed as Sunghoon slips out from one side and mutters under his breath towards Soobin. “We gotta move his bed back and don’t fuckin’ mention I used his shit from his nightstand. He’s sensitive about that shit.” Looking back at you, Sunghoon winks and waves his hand towards you to get you moving. “Up, princess. Heeseung’s being a little bitch. We have to move our beautiful moment.” 

“Sunghoon, you’re the bitch. What’s that sound? Did you move my bed again?” 

READ THE SVT VERSION NOW

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[thebarneschronicles]

Nine Lives

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

Trigger Warnings: Bullet wounds, unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it!), p in v, dirty talk, BUCKY BARNES (he needs his own warning)

Author’s Note: I had been tinkering with a few scenes in this and the Thunderbolts trailer made me finish it. Hope you like it! B x

-- Bucky Barnes was going to be the death of you.

Whether it was because he got on your last nerve or because you were desperately, irrevocably, undeniably in love with him—either way, he’d be the reason your heart stopped beating.

And honestly? It might happen in the next five minutes. Because God help you, the man was insufferable.

The room smelled like burnt coffee and bad decisions.

Sam stood at the front, gesturing at a holographic map as he laid out the mission plan, his voice steady and patient—too patient, the way a parent speaks when they know their kids are about to cause problems.

You were paying attention. You really were. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky leaning against the wall, arms crossed– and looking bored out of his mind.

Every once in a while, he flicked his gaze to you, not saying anything. Just watching.

And you knew that look. That I’m about to do something reckless and you’re going to yell at me for it look.

You gritted your teeth.

“—we’ll go in through the east entrance,” Sam continued, pointing at the building layout. “Stealth is key. No unnecessary attention.”

Bucky made a quiet sound. It wasn’t quite a scoff, but it was close enough.

Sam’s jaw flexed. “Got something to add, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged, like the whole thing was barely worth his effort. “I just think you’re overcomplicating it.”

Your brows shot up. Oh, here we go.

Sam closed his eyes, visibly counting to ten. “What part is complicated?”

Bucky shifted, pushing off the wall. “The part where we’re tiptoeing around like we’re on a damn field trip. We go in, take out the threats, get what we need. Done.”

You turned in your chair, slowly. “Take out the threats?”

Bucky smirked. “What?”

“What?” you repeated, voice rising. “You mean brute force? Like some kind of rabid raccoon?”

Sam sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.

Bucky grinned, which somehow made it worse. “I’d say more wolf, but sure.”

Your grip tightened on the edge of the table. “Barnes, if you go off-script, I swear to God—”

“Relax, doll,” he said, casual as anything. “I’ll mostly follow the plan.”

Your eye twitched. “Mostly?”

Sam exhaled sharply, muttering to himself. “I should start charging overtime for this.”

Bucky wasn’t done, though—he turned that damn smirk back on you. “You do love bossing me around, don’t you?”

And that? That was the last straw.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, planting your hands on your hips. “We are sticking to the plan, Barnes. No improvising. No wandering off. No turning this into some solo hero death mission.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through gritted teeth as you fought for patience you absolutely did not have. “Why is your solution to everything brute force? Sam has a plan. A good plan. A plan that does not involve you punching your way through every obstacle.”

Bucky folded his arms across his broad chest, looking completely unfazed. If anything, he seemed amused. “First of all, rude. Second of all, my way works.”

“You mean it works when it doesn’t get us killed?” you shot back, voice rising. “Which, by the way, is not a guarantee.”

His mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin. “C’mon, doll, you’re overreacting.”

And there it was. That goddamn nickname.

You felt it like a spark in your bloodstream, a rush of heat you refused to acknowledge. Instead, you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “Don’t ‘doll’ me, Barnes. I’m serious. We are sticking to the plan.”

“I am sticking to the plan,” he said, far too casually. “I’m just… modifying it.”

Your jaw dropped. “Modifying it?”

“Enhancing.”

“You mean ignoring it?”

He shrugged and you had never wanted to strangle and kiss someone in equal measure more in your life.

God, this man was going to be the death of you.

You took a slow, deep breath, curling your fingers into fists at your sides. “Bucky. No modifications. No enhancements. No Barnes-ifying the plan.”

He tilted his head, looking irritatingly pleased with himself. “Barnes-ifying? Huh. I kinda like that.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Of course you do.”

Sam, who had been observing this entire exchange with the long-suffering patience of a saint, let out a loud sigh. “Are you two done? Or should we clear the room so you can work out all that tension?”

Your head snapped toward him. “There is no tension.”

Bucky, the absolute menace that he was, had the audacity to murmur, “Oh, there’s tension.”

Your entire body went rigid. Your face felt hot. You whirled back to him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “I will kill you.”

His lips twitched. “I’d love to see you try, doll.”

You weren’t sure what infuriated you more—the way he said it— doll —like it was his own private joke, or the fact that you liked it. Loved it, even. That it sent a pulse of something traitorous through you, something that made you want to either punch him or grab him by the collar and—

No. Focus.

You squared your shoulders, planting your hands on your hips. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Barnes. You’re going to follow the plan. No making things up as you go along. Got it?”

His blue eyes glinted with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

Bucky grinned, slow and wicked. “Kinda looking forward to that.”

Your breath hitched. Your brain short-circuited. You opened your mouth, then shut it again, because there was absolutely nothing appropriate to say to that.

Oh. Oh, that son of a—

Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying the way he’d just rendered you speechless. Then he leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to something low and smug.

“Face it, doll,” he murmured. “You’d miss me if I was gone.”

You scoffed, even as your stomach flipped. “I’d miss arguing with you. That’s it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The knowing look on his face made you want to smack it off. But more than that, it made you want to—

Nope. Not going there.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m done. Sam, let’s go before I change my mind and let him get himself killed.”

Sam snorted, giving Bucky a pointed look. “See what you did? Now you’ve pissed her off.”

Bucky only smirked, watching you walk away. “Nah,” he said, mostly to himself. “She likes it.”

—

You didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

And do you know why? Because you knew—knew—he wasn’t lying.

Bucky Barnes didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He wasn’t the type to play games with words, wasn’t the type to tease just for the hell of it. If he said there was tension, if he said you’d miss him, then he meant it. He knew.

He knew before you did.

And that was the worst part.

You had no idea when your constant bickering turned into something else, something deeper, something dangerous. One day, you thought you hated him—the next, you realized you couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

It had terrified you.

So you fought.

You fought harder, argued louder, refused to let him see just how deeply he had burrowed into you. You clashed over the stupidest things—his reckless plans, his stubbornness, the way he called you doll like it was a secret between you. Because if you didn’t fight, if you let the walls slip for even a second, you weren’t sure what would happen.

And it infuriated you.

How dare he?

How dare he make himself at home in a corner of your heart you didn’t even know existed? How dare he take up permanent residence there, until that tiny space expanded into the whole damn thing?

How dare he make you want him when you were supposed to be angry at him?

How. Dare. He.

The memory took over before you could stop it…

It had been a disaster from the start.

The mission was supposed to be a simple recon—go in, get intel, get out. No unnecessary engagement. No close calls. No getting shot.

But Bucky Barnes? He didn’t believe in simple.

You were fuming as you dragged him into the safe house, your grip tight on his arm, ignoring the way his blood seeped through your gloves. He was bleeding all over the place, but of course, he still had the audacity to smirk at you.

“You’re manhandling me, doll.” His voice was rough, teasing. “If you wanted to get handsy, you could’ve just asked.”

You pushed him down onto the rickety cot in the corner, none too gently. “I swear to God, Barnes, if you don’t shut up, I will make your injuries worse.”

Bucky groaned dramatically as he flopped back, far too casual for someone who had just taken a bullet to the shoulder. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—should I be nice to the guy who just got himself shot?” You tore open the med kit, grabbing a pair of scissors and snipping at the sleeve of his tactical suit. 

Bucky’s smirk vanished. “Hey, whoa—this is a perfectly good jacket.”

“You’ve bled through half of it, Bucky!” You glared at him, slicing the fabric open with zero hesitation.

Bucky scowled. “Still wearable.”

“Still ruined.”

“You’re ruining it more.”

“Oh my God—do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to keep you from bleeding out you reckless, metal-armed asshole?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, because of course he did, the sound painfully casual. “Little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Your hands shook as you tore open the med kit, fingers fumbling over the supplies. “Shut up.”

“Oh, come on, doll, it’s just a—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘scratch.’”

Bucky sighed, dropping his head back onto the cot. “I’m not bleeding out.”

“You got shot, you dick,” you snapped, peeling the fabric away to get a better look at the wound. Through and through, just above his bicep. A clean hit, but it would scar if you didn’t take care of it properly.

Bucky peered at the wound like it was barely an inconvenience. “It is just a scratch.”

Your eye twitched. You gritted your teeth, pressing an antiseptic wipe to the wound with zero mercy.

Bucky hissed, body tensing as he glared at you. “Jesus—are you trying to kill me?”

“Oh, now you feel pain?” You didn’t let up, pressing a little harder just for good measure. “You didn’t seem too concerned when you ran into a hail of gunfire like a rabid golden retriever with a death wish.”

Bucky scoffed. “Golden retriever?”

“You just charged in, Bucky! What part of ‘stealth mission’ do you not understand?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t!” You grabbed a fresh gauze pad, pressing it against the wound. “Sam and I were handling it just fine before you decided to be stupidly heroic.”

“Doll, you were cornered,” Bucky argued.

“No, I was waiting for backup.”

Bucky gave you a pointed look. “You were outnumbered and had a jammed weapon.”

You locked your jaw. Because okay, maybe that was true.

But he didn’t have to jump in front of a bullet for you.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound unimpressed. “I was fine.”

“You were two seconds away from getting shot.”

“I know, Bucky!” You slammed the antiseptic wipe against his skin, not caring when he hissed. “But you didn’t have to—you didn’t—you— I told you not to do it!” you cried out. “But no, you just had to go full Terminator and jump in front of a goddamn bullet for me—”

You stopped.

Because suddenly, your throat was too tight, and your breath was coming too fast, and you hated that the panic was winning, that it was spilling over.

You weren’t just mad.

You were terrified.

Bucky blinked at you, actually looking concerned now, which only pissed you off more.

“Doll—”

“You think you’re indestructible, don’t you?” You threw the used gauze aside, grabbing another one, your hands shaking as you pressed it to the wound. “Just because you have the serum, you think you can—can take all these stupid risks—”

Bucky sighed, clearly exasperated. “I heal faster than you do, sweetheart. It’s not that deep.”

Something inside you snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky!”

His eyebrows shot up at that.

“You think the serum makes you invincible?” you seethed, eyes burning. “Is that why you keep throwing yourself into danger? Why you never hesitate before taking a hit? Why you jump in front of bullets like it’s your damn job?”

Bucky opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.

“Guess what, Barnes? The serum doesn’t make you immortal! One day, your dumbass luck is going to run out! And what then?”

Bucky stilled, blue eyes searching yours.

But you were unraveling too fast to stop now.

“I swear to God, Bucky, I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep—” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

Something changed in Bucky’s face. The teasing, the smirking—it all vanished.

You didn’t want to see whatever was in his eyes.

You dropped your gaze, fingers moving on autopilot, taping the bandage down over his shoulder. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but you pretended not to notice.

You felt him watching you.

For the first time since the mission, Bucky was quiet.

The weight of it pressed against your chest.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat. “Just—just try not to die next time, okay?”

Bucky let out a slow breath, something almost amused slipping into his voice. “Not really my style, doll.”

You snapped your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve got a real stubborn track record of coming back from the brink of death.”

Bucky grinned, slow and lazy, like he couldn’t help himself. “What can I say? I’m persistent.”

Your jaw tensed.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be the one watching you zero out your nine lives.”

The smirk disappeared.

A flicker of something serious passed through his eyes—so fast you almost missed it.

For a second, you thought he was going to say something that would change everything.

But then, as quickly as it came, he shoved it away.

He exhaled a soft chuckle instead, shaking his head. “You worry too much.”

You clenched your jaw, standing abruptly. “And you don’t worry enough.”

Bucky watched you, his expression unreadable.

You grabbed the med kit and turned away, before he could see just how badly your hands were still shaking.

Because the truth was—

You weren’t sure what scared you more.

The fact that Bucky Barnes kept coming back from the brink of death—

Or the fact that, one day, he might not.

–

You exhaled sharply, shoving the memory aside.

No. Not thinking about that.

You couldn’t.

Because if you let yourself sit with it for too long—

If you let yourself acknowledge how much he meant to you—

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to breathe through it.

Bucky must have sensed the shift in you, because as you stalked ahead, fuming, he was suddenly there—keeping pace beside you, his presence entirely too much. Too close, too solid, too him.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured. “That’s never a good sign.”

“Maybe I just ran out of things to say,” you snapped, not looking at him.

He made a low sound, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “That’ll be the day.”

You whirled on him before you could stop yourself, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Do you enjoy driving me insane, Barnes? Is it, like, a hobby for you?”

His lips twitched, that damn smirk already forming. “I mean… yeah. Kinda.”

You let out a frustrated noise, turning on your heel, ready to put as much distance between you and that insufferable smirk as possible. But before you could take two steps, his fingers curled around your wrist—gentle, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you. His grip wasn’t rough, wasn’t forceful, but it was steady, intentional. And for a split second, you couldn’t breathe.

When you looked up, his blue eyes were locked onto yours, unreadable, intense.

“I’m not trying to drive you insane,” he said, his voice softer now, but laced with something heavier, something that made your chest feel tight. “I’m just trying to figure out why you won’t admit it.”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. “Admit what?”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was searching for something, peeling back layers you weren’t ready to let him see. His gaze dragged over your face, lingering—too long—on your lips before flicking back up.

Your breath hitched.

He was going to say something else. You knew it. Could feel it. But whatever he saw in your expression made him change his mind at the last second. His features shifted, the quiet determination giving way to something smug, teasing. A deflection.

“That it’s a good plan.”

Your pulse stuttered.

This wasn’t what he wanted to say. Not even close.

But he was giving you an out. Letting you pretend, letting himself pretend, like this was still just another argument. Another round of your never-ending bickering instead of… whatever the hell this was becoming.

And that? That scared you more than anything.

“It’s not,” you shot back, seizing the escape he’d handed you. You took a step back, yanking your wrist free of his grasp. “It’s stupid. It’s reckless, and it’s going to get one or all of us hurt if we do it.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, his smirk faltering for the first time. His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering in them before he asked, voice quieter, but rougher—”Why do you never take my side?”

The question hit like a sucker punch.

It knocked the breath from your lungs, left you reeling in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I—” The words caught in your throat.

He wasn’t teasing now. Wasn’t throwing out some cocky remark just to get under your skin. This was something real, something raw, and it left you woozy.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Second time I’ve got you speechless today, huh? Must be a new record.”

His voice was light, teasing again, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely.

Then, before you could recover, before you could shove something sharp and defensive between you, he turned and walked ahead—leaving you standing there, heart racing, breath unsteady.

Completely, utterly furious at him.

And even more furious at yourself.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to breathe. In. Out. Don’t let him get to you.

Except he had. He always did. And the worst part? He knew it.

You glared at the back of his head as he walked ahead like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just thrown you completely off balance and left you scrambling for solid ground.

Why do you never take my side?

You hated that the question still echoed in your head. That it stung in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

You stormed after him, your boots crunching against the pavement. “Barnes, we’re not done talking about this.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. “Seemed pretty done to me.”

Your jaw clenched. “God, you are infuriating.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.” He threw a glance over his shoulder, his smirk still in place, but his eyes? His eyes were still sharp, still waiting.

You caught up to him in two quick strides, grabbing his arm to yank him to a stop. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Bucky arched a brow, glancing down at where your fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Thought you couldn’t stand being near me, doll.”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the nickname. Ignored the way your traitorous hand lingered for a second before you let go.

“That plan of yours?” You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “It’s reckless. And you know it.”

His smirk faded, just slightly. “And what if reckless is the only option?”

“That’s bullshit, and you know that too.”

Bucky let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You think I’m some idiot who just punches his way through problems—”

“I know you are,” you shot back.

He glared at you, jaw ticking. “But maybe—just maybe—I actually know what I’m doing this time.”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but something in his expression stopped you.

There was no smugness, no teasing. Just raw frustration, something worn down underneath.

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast, the words dying on your tongue.

“Right,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “Should’ve known better than to expect you to trust me.”

The words weren’t loud. He wasn’t even looking at you when he said them. But they landed like a slap.

Your breath caught. “That’s not—”

“Forget it.” 

— 

Shockingly, Bucky had followed Sam’s plan.

And—even more shockingly—it had gone wrong.

In the end, brute force had been the only way to get all three of you out alive.

You weren’t sure when the dust had settled, when the ringing in your ears had finally faded enough for you to hear your own breathing again. But when your vision cleared, Bucky was still standing.

Standing over a pile of bodies, bloodied and exhausted, his chest heaving with exertion.

There was a split in his lip, a gash across his forehead, and a bullet graze along his ribs, the fabric of his tactical suit dark with blood.

And you hated it.

You hated how your stomach twisted at the sight of him hurt. Hated the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides to stop yourself from running to him, from touching him, from grabbing his face and checking.

Most of all, you hated that you had doubted him.

Bucky Barnes had a century of combat experience. He had spent his entire life surviving fights he shouldn’t have walked away from, and still, you had dismissed him. Still, you had refused to listen.

And now? Now all of you were bleeding. All of you were shaken.

But the worst part—the part that made your throat tighten and your breath shudder—was that Bucky wasn’t even gloating.

No smirk. No I told you so.

Just silence. Just his sharp, assessing gaze, scanning the aftermath like he was still bracing for another fight.

By the time Torres had you all back on the plane, you were shaking.

The adrenaline should have worn off by now, but the weight in your chest only grew heavier. You knew—you knew—Bucky would heal faster than you or Sam. Logically, you understood that.

But logic wasn’t stopping the tightness in your throat when your eyes landed on the bruising around his temple.

It wasn’t stopping the way your fingers trembled as you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down in front of him, against every warning screaming in your head.

Bucky exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the seat. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” you shot back, voice sharper than intended.

“So are you.”

You ignored that. “Just—hold still.”

For once, he didn’t argue. But when you reached for him, when your fingers ghosted over his skin, his gaze flickered—just for a second—to your hands.

He noticed.

Noticed the tremor in your fingers, the way they weren’t steady.

His brows drew together, just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his stare, felt the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Your breath hitched. You curled your fingers tighter around the antiseptic wipe, focusing too hard on dabbing at the cut on his forehead.

When he flinched, you huffed. “Big bad super soldier can take on twenty guys at once but can’t handle a little stinging?”

His lips twitched, but the teasing was half-hearted. “Not my fault you’re rough.”

You shot him a look. “I wonder why.”

His jaw flexed. “You do like making things difficult.”

“Oh, I make things difficult?” You shook your head, pressing a little too firmly as you cleaned the wound. “I don’t remember me running in headfirst with zero regard for a plan.”

Bucky scoffed. “Right, because your plan went so well.”

You froze, fingers stilling against his skin.

His voice hadn’t been sharp, but the words still landed heavy in your chest.

“You didn’t have to follow it,” you murmured.

Bucky let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Well. I did.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and weighted.

You forced yourself to move again, forced yourself to focus on the cut rather than the way his eyes lingered.

Your throat was dry when you spoke. “You were right.”

His expression didn’t change, but you felt the shift in the air.

“We should have done it your way,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s fingers curled over the edge of the seat. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you knew he was watching you.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice quiet. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”

You pressed your lips together. “Would’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in.”

His eyes flickered. His jaw worked, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy for it.

“You don’t have to say that,” he murmured.

“I do.” Your voice wavered, but you swallowed hard, pushing through it. “Because I was wrong.”

Bucky was still. Unreadable.

Then, after a beat, his voice dropped lower. “That an apology?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real fire behind it. “Don’t push your luck, Barnes.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

But his eyes? His eyes told a different story.

—

The hum of the jet was steady beneath you, the vibrations deep in your bones, but it did nothing to ground you. The cabin lights were low, throwing long shadows across the metal walls. Sam was already passed out in the back, his breathing even, the tension from the mission finally easing from his shoulders.

You should be doing the same. You should be closing your eyes, letting exhaustion take over, shutting out the memory of the chaos you’d just escaped from.

But you couldn’t.

Because Bucky was still watching you.

He sat across from you, silent and unreadable, his blue eyes darker in the dim light. He hadn’t spoken since you finished patching him up, but he hadn’t stopped looking, either.

It wasn’t his usual sharp-edged irritation or teasing smirk. No playful bickering, no cocky remarks about how he’d been right. Just this.

Something softer. Something heavier.

Something you weren’t ready for.

“You should get some rest,” he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges.

You shook your head, fingers curling into your palms. “I’m fine.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, like he didn’t believe you. “Yeah? You don’t look fine.”

You hated that he could see it. The tremor in your fingers, the tension in your shoulders, the way you were still breathing too fast, like your body hadn’t realized the fight was over.

You hated that he noticed. That he cared enough to notice.

And then—because you were tired, because you were furious, because he had almost died and you were still trying to claw your way back from the sheer panic of it—you snapped.

“You could have died, Bucky.” Your voice was sharper than you meant, thick with something you didn’t want to name.

His brow twitched, but his expression didn’t change. His voice stayed infuriatingly even. “Yeah. That’s kinda what happens when people shoot at you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing out there?”

“That’s not—” You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

The question hung between you, thick with unspoken things.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched you—his gaze steady, patient, like he was giving you the space to say it.

And God, you wanted to.

But the words sat like stones in your throat, impossible to force out. You clenched your jaw, tried to shove them back down, but they wouldn’t go away.

Because the truth was, you weren’t just shaken by the mission.

You were shaken by the way seeing him bleeding had made your stomach drop, by the way his pained groans had made your hands shake, by the way you had wanted—needed—to run to him, to wrap yourself around him and never let go.

You were terrified.

Because this wasn’t just anger or frustration or a heated argument in the middle of a mission.

This was Bucky.

And you couldn’t lose him.

So instead of answering, instead of trying to put words to the panic still rattling inside you, you did the only thing you could do.

You reached for him.

It wasn’t sharp or defiant, wasn’t out of frustration or anger.

You just—needed to touch him.

Your fingers brushed over his wrist, barely there, hesitant. A point of contact. Something to anchor you.

Bucky stilled.

For a second, he just stared at your hand, at the way your fingers curled against his skin like you weren’t even sure if you had permission to hold on.

Then, slowly, he turned his wrist under your palm, letting your fingers slide over his pulse point. His skin was warm, his pulse steady. Alive. Here.

Your throat went tight.

Bucky’s voice was quieter this time. Rougher. “You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t let go.

Your thumb ghosted over his pulse, barely a whisper of touch, but it still wasn’t enough.

You didn’t know what you needed, what you were searching for beneath your fingertips, but the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat wasn’t easing the raw ache in your chest.

Your eyes flickered around the cabin.

Sam was still dead to the world, Torres nowhere in sight. The only two people awake on this jet were you and Bucky.

Something inside you snapped.

One second, you were gripping his wrist, tethering yourself to him like that alone would make this feeling go away. The next, you were moving before you could stop yourself—sliding out of your seat, crawling into his lap, wrapping yourself around him like holding on tighter would somehow keep him safe, keep him yours.

Bucky made a sound—something low, something confused—but his hands came up anyway, large and warm and steady as they settled on your hips, instinctive.

His breath hitched, and you felt it against your temple, the subtle shudder of his inhale.

You buried yourself closer, curling into his chest, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of his neck. His scent was everywhere—gunpowder and metal and something distinctly him—and you could have drowned in it.

“If you ever tell anyone I did this,” you muttered, voice muffled against his neck, “I will find ways to kill you.”

There was no bite to it. No real threat.

Just you—raw and exposed in a way you didn’t know how to take back.

Bucky let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t shove you off like he should have.

Instead, his arms shifted, wrapping around you fully, pressing you into him like this was what he had been waiting for, like this was something he had been needing just as badly.

Like he wanted to.

His metal fingers flexed at your waist, pressing against the fabric of your suit, a steadying grip. His other hand flattened against your back, tracing over the curve of your spine as if he was committing the shape of you to memory.

His touch burned.

His warmth was everywhere.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers sliding from his hair to his cheek, brushing over the stubble there, the still-healing cut on his temple. And then—before you could stop yourself—you were tilting his face toward yours.

For the first time since the mission, since the gunfire, since you watched the blood dripping down his temple and felt your entire world tilt on its axis—you met his eyes head-on.

Bucky swallowed.

His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips.

It was enough.

Your resolve snapped like a frayed wire.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before you could remind yourself that this was Bucky, before you could convince yourself that you didn’t love him like this—

You kissed him.

It was desperate, messy—nothing like the slow, sweet build-up you had imagined in the deepest corners of your mind.

Your lips crashed against his, your hands fisting in his suit, pulling yourself closer, closer, closer, needing more, needing everything.

Bucky froze.

Didn’t move when your lips parted against his, when your tongue flicked against his bottom lip, when your teeth caught the cut there, tasting blood.

Didn’t react when you kissed him again, soft and searching, when your nose brushed against his, when you sighed against his mouth, the sound fragile and aching.

Didn’t kiss you back.

The realization hit slow, creeping in at the edges of your desperation, sinking its claws into your chest.

He wasn’t—

Oh, God.

The sting of rejection burned hotter than the wounds littering your body.

You tried to breathe, tried to steady yourself, but your lungs felt too tight, your hands shaking as you forced yourself to pull back, to put distance between you before you shattered entirely.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a shaky breath washing over his lips. Your throat was tight, your vision blurring at the edges. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Your voice broke.

Bucky was still silent.

And that was somehow worse.

It took a second to register the weight of what you’d done, to catch up to you.

You had kissed him.

You had kissed him and he hadn’t—

Your stomach plummeted.

“I’m—” Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your ribs. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

You tried to untangle yourself, tried to scramble out of his lap, to preserve whatever dignity you had left, to put distance between you before you completely fell apart in front of him—

But then—

God.

Then his hands tightened on your hips.

Hard.

Before you could even get further, Bucky dragged you back against him, fingers digging into your skin, like he wasn’t about to let you go. He maneuvered you until your legs were astride his hips, your arms around his neck, your chest pressed to his.

Your breath stilled, eyes wide, heart hammering against your ribs.

His expression had changed.

The shock, the hesitation—it was gone.

In its place was something darker.

Something heated and unrelenting.

Something like want.

Bucky’s breathing was uneven, his lips parted, his pupils blown wide as his gaze flickered between your eyes, your mouth, back up.

Then—

Then his fingers traced up your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His metal hand trailed over your ribs, up your arm, curling at the back of your neck, tipping your face toward his.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Doll,” he rasped, voice wrecked and low. “Can you do that again?”

Your stomach flipped.

“I—” You swallowed, your pulse hammering against his fingertips. “You didn’t—”

“I froze,” he cut in, jaw tight. “I won’t now.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your lips parted, heart stumbling over itself.

Bucky let out a breath, something between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your hips flexed, strong and sure, and for a split second, all he did was look at you.

Like you were something he didn’t know how to handle.

Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to devour you or worship you.

Then—slower this time, more sure—he leaned in.

And kissed you.

You had been right.

Bucky Barnes would be your undoing.

He’d kill you with the way he kissed, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to ruin you, like he wanted to take you apart with nothing but the sweep of his tongue and the heat of his mouth.

You felt it—every glide of his tongue against yours, every careful press of his lips, every sharp inhale between kisses—like a spark lighting up your spine, sinking deep, settling between your legs with a heat so intense you could barely breathe through it.

You shook on top of him, the way he touched you sending shockwaves through every nerve ending in your body. His hands were everywhere—tight, possessive squeezes against your hips, reverent drags of his fingers down your back and thighs, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

A whimper escaped you, completely unbidden, and Bucky groaned, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrated against your mouth.

Then, suddenly, his lips left yours.

You gasped at the loss—until you felt him move.

Felt the warm brush of his breath against your throat, felt his nose skim along the sensitive skin there before his mouth followed.

“Bucky—” His name left you in a sharp breath as he kissed down your neck, slow, teasing, his lips dragging over every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

The problem was—there wasn’t enough.

Your suit covered too much, kept him from truly touching you, and it was driving you out of your mind.

You arched into him, restless, desperate. “Take it off,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Bucky stilled, his lips pausing against your collarbone.

His hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. Didn’t continue.

“Take it off,” you begged, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit, tracing over the zippers, tugging uselessly at the buttons, trying to feel more. “Please, take it off.”

His breath was uneven, ragged. “Doll, there are people—”

“I don’t care.” You tugged at his collar, leaning in, pressing another desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “They won’t see.”

Bucky’s hands flexed against your waist, like he was warring with himself.

You kissed him again, lips parting over his, trying to convince him, trying to make him understand, to feel just how badly you needed this, needed him.

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing to yours, his chest rising and falling unevenly beneath you.

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Please, before you change your mind—I need this. I need you.”

That did it.

Something snapped in him.

The hesitation vanished.

And then, suddenly, you were weightless.

Before you could even process what was happening, Bucky was standing, lifting you effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist as he carried you toward the back of the jet, moving with a singular, determined focus that made your breath catch.

Your back hit the cool metal wall of the jet, the impact sending a shiver down your spine, but you barely had time to react before Bucky was kissing you again—hot, rough, devouring.

You gasped against his lips, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life.

His hands roamed down your back, over your thighs, squeezing, gripping—and then, finally, finally, he found the zipper of your suit.

“I’m not changing my mind,” he murmured, his voice thick, edged with something raw that made you shiver. His fingers curled around the fabric, tugging just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. “And you’re not changing yours.”

You nodded without thinking, without hesitation, without fear.

There was a faint awareness of the reality around you—the steady hum of the jet beneath you, the wall of gear shielding you from the others, the knowledge that Sam and Torres were mere feet away. The fact that you were both bloodied and bruised from the mission, that maybe this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place.

But then Bucky moved, and all of that faded.

The zipper came down in a slow, deliberate slide, the rasp of it against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His hands worked quickly, efficiently, but gentle, pushing the suit down your arms until you could shake it off completely. The moment it was gone, he pulled your arms around his shoulders, guiding them to hold onto him, like he needed you to keep him close.

“Hold on to me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, almost reverent, before dropping to his knees.

Your breath caught, your pulse hammering as his hands gripped your hips, firm and unshakable, guiding the rest of your suit down your legs. His head dipped, his lips grazing the fresh bruise blooming along your hip. He kissed it once, then again—soft, lingering. Worshipping.

You swallowed hard, your fingers threading into his hair as he nuzzled along your thigh, your knee, before rising back to his full height.

“Not getting these off,” he muttered, his fingers ghosting over your soaked panties. You’d be ashamed if it weren’t for the way his lips parted, like he was desperate to get back on his knees, get his mouth on you, There was also something else. The look on his face - regret, you thought - like he wanted to take his time with you, but was disappointed he couldn’t.

His hands moved up your body, skimming over your waist, tracing along your ribs. You shivered at the sensation of warm and cold, flesh and metal. His eyes darkened at the sight of you trembling under his touch.

“We have to be quick.”

You nodded, obedient, but there was something clawing at your chest, something making your breath catch, making your hands shake as you reached for his belt, undoing it with frantic fingers.

“This—” You took a breath, sliding the zipper down, pushing his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already slick with pre-cum. You ached at the sight of him. Ached to drop to your knees and taste him.

Instead, you swallowed hard and met his eyes. “This isn’t how I imagined doing this with you.”

Bucky let out a low, disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. “Me either.” His voice was rough, wrecked, breaking apart at the seams. His lips brushed your ear as he groaned, deep and ragged, when you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slow, teasing. “Fuck, sweetheart—”

A shudder rolled through him, his forehead pressing to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, voice thick with something dangerous, something devoted. “I promise.”

His arms wrapped around you again, lifting you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your hips rolling forward to grind against him.

“Bucky—”

“You want this?” he asked, pressing you back against the cool metal wall, the contrast making you gasp. His mouth was everywhere—dragging down your jaw, across the swell of your breast, open-mouthed and hungry.

“I do. I—”

The words faltered on your tongue.

Your heart was hammering, your chest was aching. This was reckless. This was insane.

This was everything.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressed your forehead to his, your lips brushing his with every ragged breath. “I want you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “All of you.” Your fingers twisted into his hair, tugging just enough for him to feel it. “Please.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. “You have me.”

His words were iron, unbreakable, true.

Something cracked inside you.

And then—there was no more hesitation.

His lips crashed into yours again, raw and consuming, leaving no space between you, no air, no room for anything but him. His free hand slid down, tugging at your panties, dragging them to the side. Your own hand moved between you, wrapping around his cock, guiding him to where you needed him.

“Jesus, doll—”

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was one full thrust, his cock pressing inside you inch by inch, filling you completely, stretching you to the edge of pain. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as a gasp tore from your throat.

You felt full. Too full.

Your legs shook around him, your walls clenching tight around his cock, the overwhelming stretch making your eyes slam shut, your mouth parting on a silent moan.

Bucky groaned, deep and wrecked, his forehead pressing to your temple. His body was shaking too, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against your skin.

“Fuck,” he ground out, metal hand locking around your thigh, keeping you open for him. His other hand tangled in your hair, his grip tight, desperate. “Fuck, you feel—Jesus, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, your arms trembling as you clung to him. “I can’t believe you’re inside me,” you whispered, voice barely there, overwhelmed and ruined. “Oh my god, Bucky—”

He snapped his hips forward, and your world split apart.

The pleasure was sharp, blinding, a lightning strike surging through your veins. Your body clenched around him, gripping him so tight he groaned against your neck, his rhythm faltering for a beat. His hands tightened on your hips, metal and flesh both possessive, both desperate to hold on.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he choked out, voice strangled, roughened with something close to reverence. He thrust deep, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, every sensitive place that made your stomach coil so tight you thought you might shatter.

“For you,” you confessed, arching into him, letting him feel it, letting him know. “All the time. Every time you look at me—”

Bucky snapped his hips forward, harder, deeper, tearing a cry from your lips.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice breaking, cracking at the edges. “Shit, shit—”

“You’re so deep,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, pleading, needing. “Bucky, I—I can’t—”

“I’ve got you, doll,” he groaned, pressing his mouth to yours, swallowing every sound you made as he ruined you completely.

Every thrust was a curse, every breath a kiss, and you were careening toward the edge so fast it was dizzying.

The pleasure ripped through you before you could warn him, before you could even process it. Your walls tightened, pulsing around his cock, body shaking so violently that he had to pin you to the wall with his hips, burying himself to the hilt, his hand cradling the back of your head, shielding you as you contorted in his grasp.

His mouth devoured your cries, catching every broken, pleading gasp as the orgasm tore you apart. It was an explosion that didn’t stop, that kept rolling through you, wave after wave.

You rocked against him, desperate for more, still chasing, still needing, barely hearing the way he rasped your name, telling you to slow down, telling you to look at him, warning you that he was—

“God, you’re heaven,” Bucky breathed against your ear, grinding deep inside of you, his voice wrecked, every syllable tinged with something broken, something beautiful. As you slowly came down, you could feel how close he was, how tightly he was holding on, trying to keep himself from falling over the edge. “I can feel you—fuck me, I should pull out.”

“No.”

It came out fast, urgent, a whisper laced with something dangerous. Your legs locked around his hips, keeping him trapped in your hold.

His entire body went rigid. His breathing stilled.

“Baby.”

Bucky’s voice was low, frayed at the edges, filled with disbelief. The word hung in the air between you, unspoken until now.

You froze.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t have given that away. Shouldn’t have let it slip, shouldn’t have handed him something so fragile, something you couldn’t take back.

But what was a drop to someone who was already drowning?

Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. If he wanted to, he could have pulled you off of him without lifting a finger. You had always been painfully aware of how much stronger he was, how easily he could overpower you.

And yet, he stayed still, locked in your hold. Completely at your mercy.

You swallowed, your fingers shaking as they curled into his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let him run.

“C’mon, doll,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, stealing a kiss that felt like it was more for him than for you. “Let go.”

His hips rolled, his pelvis grinding against your clit, making you whimper. Your body was still trembling, still oversensitive, but fuck, if he kept going just a little longer—

“I want you to cum inside me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, your nails digging into his skin.

Bucky froze.

The words echoed between you like a shot fired into the silence.

His hips stilled. His breath hitched. His hands trembled where they held you.

You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out, from begging him to move.

“Doll,” he rasped, warning in his tone, his forehead pressed to yours. He looked wrecked, as undone as you felt.

“Stop arguing with me,” you shot back, voice shaky, grinding against him, dragging your soaked, sensitive heat over him, pulling a moan from his throat so deep it made every hair on your body stand on end.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his grip on you bruising.

“I want this.” You tightened your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer, wrapping him in you, cocooning you both in the moment. “I’m begging you, Bucky. Please.”

“It’s—” He swallowed thickly, voice strangled.

“Irresponsible, yes, but what’s a little irresponsibility?” A breathless laugh escaped you, but your voice broke at the end, too raw to keep up the teasing. You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m on the pill.”

His jaw clenched.

“I need this,” you whispered, the truth clawing up your throat before you could stop it. “I need you.” Your voice cracked, your breath hitched, emotion swelling too fast, too much. “You don’t get it, I—”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he softened.

Something in his eyes clicked, something changed, and suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you tighter, his hands cradling your face like you were precious, like you were fragile, like he had to hold you together before you broke apart completely.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

And then he moved.

His thrusts were slower, deeper, his lips brushing yours between each movement. His hands wandered, soothing, worshipping.

“Giving you exactly what you want, yeah?”

You nodded frantically, breath labored, losing yourself in the way he felt, the way he surrounded you, consumed you.

“Don’t pull out,” you begged, voice barely there, a whisper of devotion, of desperation.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, forehead pressed to yours. “I won’t, baby,” he promised, voice breaking. His pace picked up, hips rolling against yours, pushing deeper, harder, dragging against your oversensitive clit in a way that had you whimpering. “Gonna fill you up like you wanted.”

Your toes curled at the words, at the image, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you gasped, rolling your hips, needing, aching.

Bucky groaned, his head dropping back as his rhythm faltered, as he snapped his hips harder, chasing the end, giving you what you wanted, giving you everything.

“Fill me up, baby,” you pleaded, your voice a broken, desperate thing. “Make me yours..”

And that—

That was what finally broke him.

Bucky snapped.

A curse tore from his throat, his grip on you bruising, unrelenting as his hips slammed into you, chasing the inevitable, giving you everything. His rhythm turned frantic, needy, his body demanding what you had just offered.

And you took it.

You craved it.

Your body tightened around him, coaxing him deeper, begging for more. Every thrust was an answer to a question neither of you had spoken aloud, a declaration in the language of skin and breath and longing.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath hot against your mouth. His hand slid down between you, his metal fingers finding your clit and pressing, rubbing tight circles, dragging you back to the edge with him.

Your body shook, every muscle tensed, the pleasure sharpening into something unbearable, something deadly.

“Bucky—”

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his voice cracking at the edges, his own body trembling as he held himself back, as he waited for you. “Give it to me.”

You did.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, knocking the air from your lungs, blinding in its intensity. Your body locked around him, your hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as the pleasure ripped through you in violent, unrelenting waves.

And that was it. That was everything.

Bucky followed, slamming into you one last time before breaking, burying himself as deep as he could go, a shuddering groan torn from his chest as he spilled into you, filling you like he promised. You felt it as his warm cum Costas your walls, so much of it you weren’t sure there wasn’t some spilling out.

His body trembled, his arms locked tight around you, holding you close as he gave in, as he let go, as he let himself have this.

For a moment, there was silence.

Just the sound of your breathing, labored and uneven. The quiet, lingering shock of what you had just done.

Bucky’s forehead pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart hammering so hard you could feel it through his suit.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you moved.

You stayed like that—wrapped around him, his cock still twitching inside of you, his arms cradling you like you might disappear if he let go.

You let your eyes drift shut, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the back of his neck, the weight of him comforting, grounding, even as reality started creeping back in.

You should let go.

You should move.

You should say something.

But when Bucky finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to frame your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones—

The words died on your lips.

Because he was looking at you like you had just ruined him. Like you had just changed something fundamental inside of him.

Like you had just made him yours.

And you had.

Slowly,, Bucky eased his grip, his arms still wrapped around you, his hands still mapping the shape of you, like he needed to memorize every curve, every ridge, every place he’d touched.

His lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft, tender kisses that made your heart clench, made something deep inside you ache.

It felt too big.

Too much.

But you couldn’t stop touching him.

Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the stubble rough beneath your touch. You pushed damp hair out of his face, ran your knuckles down the slope of his nose, his cheekbone, memorizing him the way he was memorizing you.

A hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek, his expression unreadable.

When he finally spoke, his eyes were soft, but serious.

“You meant it,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed, lips parting, breath hitching.

“Bucky—”

His other hand was still pressed to your lower stomach, like he could feel himself inside you, like he could brand this moment into your skin.

“I felt it,” he whispered, almost to himself. “The way you—” He exhaled sharply, like the words were too heavy to get out.

You closed your eyes, trying to give yourself some kind of reprieve from the enormity of it all.

“Don’t run from this.” His voice was so calm, but it cut through you like a knife. “Please, doll.”

Your throat tightened.

You weren’t sure if it was the aftershocks of pleasure or the overwhelming emotion of it all, but your body was still trembling—and Bucky felt every bit of it.

His arms tightened around you, securing you to him, anchoring you.

“I’m not running,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, like he didn’t quite believe you.

And maybe you didn’t quite believe yourself.

Because what came next?

What happened after this?

There was you before Bucky Barnes.

There was you after Bucky Barnes.

And they weren’t the same.

[tonycries]

F*ck You! (Literally) - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, angry séx, spítting, degradation, y’all are both mean, rough, jealousy (Toji’s side), bréeding, smackíng, arguíng during it, cúmplay, overstím, oral (female receiving), mentions of Megumi and Shiu, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.7k

A/N. Gojo next week because I miss my man smh.

It’s not often that you contemplate something that would definitely end up with a night in jail - but it seems that somehow whenever you did, your ex-husband Toji was always sure to be the cause of it.

Like that time he had the audacity to ask you out to dinner right outside the divorce attorney’s office, mere moments after signing those papers. Or when he “accidentally” sent you some mouthwateringly shirtless photos - through email, of course, because you had him blocked otherwise. Although, you’d saved those pictures - a secret you’d take to the grave.

And now. 

Standing right outside your front door, on the night of what would’ve been your fifth anniversary. His imposing figure filling the frame, that tiny scar you loved and hated so much quirking up ever-so-slightly as he shoots you a sly grin. 

He’s here.

Looking as devastatingly handsome as the day you left him.

“Happy anniversary, ex-wifey.”

And just as irritating, too. 

That snaps you out of your traitorous little reverie, and before long you’re sputtering out a shaky, “Y-you. What do you think you’re doing here?” Not even waiting for his response before moving to shut the door in his face.

“Oh, believe me,” Toji lets out a humorless little laugh, reaching up a sculpted arm to stop the door in its tracks. “I wouldn’t be here even if I wanted to.”

That was a lie - and Toji knew that. He had half the mind to think that you knew that. But it didn’t matter when you’re glaring up at him so prettily. The confusion evident on your face as you grit out a shrill, “Then why am I seeing your stupid face tonight?”

“Chance? Luck? A blessing?” 

Scoffing, “A curse.”

“That mouth’s still as sharp as ever, huh?” He cocks his head in amusement, “Did you not see my email?”

“No, I uh-” you mumble, face burning. And oh you wish you could stop yourself from thinking back to those photos - stop yourself from wanting to smack the smirk off Toji’s face that told you he was, too. “-blocked you on…that…as well.”

“Mhm.” he hums, eyes lingering too long on your comfy pajamas - his favorite ones -  and the way you’re squirming so adorably under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, m’just here to pick up one of that brat’s toys. Won’t take long n’ I’ll be out of your sight, doll.”

And you can’t say anything about that familiar little petname, because it hits you with a pang - oh, how you missed Megumi. 

He’d thrown a tantrum until he was allowed to visit you occasionally, of course. But still, it was nothing compared to how inseparable the three of you were before your relationship with Toji soured. His line of work too dangerous, the fights more frequent until you’d had enough.

“Ah, yes. Megs probably won’t even leave the house without it.” you chuckle, opening the door wider. “I was surprised to find it the other day since he said that lil’ plushie was his best friend. After me.”

“After me.”

“Liar.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fitting for our anniversary, huh?” And oh how Toji enjoyed riling you up. To spy that little furrow between your brows as he strides inside your apartment like it was his own - he did know it like the back of his hand. “I already know where the bed is, after all.”

“Yeah, and you know where the door is too.” you mutter, acting like it didn’t make your head spin to think of Toji - in your home. With you. You and Toji. In your home. You and Toji in your home. 

You hadn’t seen him since the divorce just four months ago, and here he was looking so unfairly like he fit right in. Taking up much more time than necessary as he walks towards that little wolf toy on your couch. Eyeing up the sappy romance movie paused on-screen, and those familiar photographs on the wall. 

You still had that one of the two of you from that beach getaway two years ago, he noted with delight. 

“Heh, for someone that hates me so much, s’funny you have my face hung up here.” he smirks, words just dripping with that familiar dark tone that has shivers running down your spine. “Knew you were still into me.” Defiant - challenging, even, because he always did like to push all your buttons. 

Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for-

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, walking towards where Toji stood. “I jus’ use it to scare off clingy dates in the morning.” 

And you loved to push his buttons even more. 

“Oh? Dates, huh?” And something about those words make you feel like something’s too-tense. Exciting, even. Especially as he repeats - more to himself than you, “Dates.”

“Jealous?”

“Heh, of whatever scrub took you out? In your dreams, doll.” Maybe it was the way Toji was joking - but didn’t sound like he was at all. Or maybe it was the way he didn’t move as you stepped closer, enough that you’re almost toe-to-toe with him. Probably it was the way he murmurs out a strangled, “M’not jealous.”

Oh. 

You watch the way his body stiffens, darkened eyes flitting between you and the picture and you- Smirking “Good, because m’having one over soon.”

“Oh, you little bitch.” He spits out the words, gaze hardening in a way you knew did not bode well for your - or down there. Hitting it where it hurts, “This is why I’m so fuckin’ glad we divorced.”

“Fuck you,” you tilt your head, anger simmering beneath your skin - and you didn’t know who was pissing each other off more. “So then you can get out before my date gets here.” And the emphasis on “date” isn’t lost on him.

“Such a liar.”

“M’not lying.” You were - but you didn’t care if Toji could tell because it was ticking him off just the same. “You could say he’s an-” Now close enough that you could feel the heat of his proximity. A finger stabbing right in his pecs with each word, “-upgrade.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled to his rock-hard chest, all the dips and curves of his body so sinfully obvious against your skin as he questions, “How so?”

“Well, for starters he’s-” you gasp, casting a sidelong glance at the way the muscles in his arms ripple. And it takes everything in you to try and keep your voice steady, “-bigger.” Thighs pressing together at the tiny grunt of disbelief that leaves your ex-husband, too-aware of the strong hand wrapped around your waist. “And sexier.”

“And?”

“And what?” you gulp, raising your head to blink up at him in confusion and oh- 

Oh, shit. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Toji’s eyes were wide, a mirthless smirk spreading across his face, jaw tensing as he leans down to whisper hotly against your ear, words hoarse - stilted, like it pained him to even speak them into existence. “And what other lies are ya gonna make up?”

And you might be a genius - you might just not know what’s good for you. 

Because you’re batting your lashes just the way you knew he liked, the words - saccharine sweet, and falling from your lips faster than your whirling brain could even register them. “And he makes me cum so much harder.”

Toji’s lips are crashing against yours - and you knew it was coming. You wanted them to. Bruising, angry - like he was telling you to just shut the fuck up, another word of your imaginary date and it would kill him. 

He tasted the same as he did all those months ago. Sweet, like those cheap lollipops he would buy you and that absolute sin of his scar rubbing against your lips. 

“Fuck-” he lets out a guttural groan into your lips. Only a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he kisses you with the collective desperation of a little over four months. “Hate how you’re-” Like he didn’t even care if it left your poor lips swollen and bruised - at least that might give whatever loser coming here a hint. “-still addictive.”

With that, he picks you up like it’s just nothing, your traitorous legs easily wrapping around his toned waist. Letting you pull off that sinfully snug t-shirt to feel the smooth planes of all his muscles. Soft. Warm. 

You gasp at how he manhandles you so that your thin pajama pants are just above his achingly hard cock, throbbing, and so so angry against your core. Trousers already so damp with- precum? Your slick? 

“Hah- not jealous my ass-” you hiss, grinding down on his bulge.

And Toji’s parting mere millimeters, chuckling darkly at the disappointed little whine that escapes you. “Yeah, well, does he ever get you like this?” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, purposely not giving you what you want. “Does he ever get you this-” Grinding you against his straining erection, two fingers sliding down, just teasing the drenched front of your shorts. “-this fuckin’ wet?”

“Nah,” you pull on Toji’s silky locks, nipping at his collarbone. “He gets me wetter.”

“You little-”

It’s like something snaps - whatever’s left of Toji’s sanity, your patience, possibly you by the end of this. Anything but the thick, suffocating - tension in your living room. Now too small. Too hot. 

Before you can react, your back  is hitting the soft cushions of your couch. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw as Toji looms over you. 

“Thought you knew where the bed was?” you manage to get out, in the heat of it all. 

“Thought you hated me?”

“Gonna kill you if you break this cou-” but the rest of the retort on your tongue dies as Toji’s hands are suddenly everywhere.

Groping your breasts - your waist - your ass. Barely giving you time to even think before fisting your shirt in one hand. Too impatient - too starved - to do anything other than pull down, down, down until it-

RIP!

“Oh you fuckin’ slut.” Toji’s jaw drops into a soft little oh! at the sight of your heavenly breasts before him. No bra - exactly how he liked it. “How I missed these.” Massaging them under his hands, “Is this for him or ya really had no idea I was coming?”

“You’re t-too fuckin’ hah-” you whine as he immediately takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipples. “-full of yourself.”

And you don’t even know if Toji registered the insult - looking like he was on cloud nine as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. Pulling off with a lewd pop! only to say, “Wonder if you’re the same down there.”

You are - Toji discovers, with wonder. 

Hooking a finger underneath the hem of your already-soaked shorts to pull them off. And, hey, Toji hasn’t had this view in months - so he really can’t help himself from bringing them up to his face. Your jaw drops at his pure audacity as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy with a strained, “M’keepin’ these, doll.”

“You’re sick.” 

“And you’re soaked.” strong hands spread your legs so shamefully. You can’t fight it - how fucking wet and glistening you were for him under the dim-lighting. Toji grins cockily, “Who’s she this wet for, huh? Me or him?”

“Not- not you-” you whine, despite how your sloppy cunt was leaking all over your legs - such a mess. A mess that Toji was shifting down the couch to lick up. Slow, lazy circles right at your inner thighs. Sweet - so sweet, his favorite. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste and oh, how Toji missed this. 

Missed teasing you until you broke. 

Which, it turns out, happens fairly early.

“Y-you’re just fucking talk.” you hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. Your voice betraying how badly you wanted him. Needed him to do something - anything. “He-”

Toji doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - and you don’t need to - because without another word, he’s surging forward until he was nose-deep in your messy cunt.

Licking one, long stripe up your swollen folds - up and down, up and down, up and- He murmurs into your cunt, “Do ya still like when I-” Hot tongue flicking roughly against your clit. Just barely, and you’re bucking wildly underneath him. “Ah, you do. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Of course, the only response that Toji gets is a wet, pathetic murmur of something - maybe a plea, probably a curse at him to shut up. 

But it’s something that has all the blood rushing to his aching cock, something that has him biting down lightly on your inner thigh - just a little punishment. 

“What was that?” he purrs, “Didn’t seem to hear you right, wifey.”

It takes everything in you to gasp out, a barely-audible determined little, “I-I said-” fingers threading through Toji’s hair, pulling up his face. Hard, so that he’s forced to meet your eyes instead of admiring your pretty lil’ cunt. “-fuck you.”

And you don’t know what you expected - maybe an insult back, maybe for him to get up and leave you all high and dry right then and there.

But oh you should’ve known your ex-husband better, because he has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh, more to infuriate you than anything as he promptly spits on your quivering pussy. 

Once. Twice.

You flinch as some splatters against your thigh, and you both know it’s on purpose. Because Toji Fushiguro always had perfect aim - but when it comes to you, well, he had to knock his bratty lil’ wife down a few pegs. 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders to lick all over your sloppy pussy once more. “Fuck me, huh?” he groans out little profanities into your cunt, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me-” 

Smack!

You register that delicious little sting on your ass far before the realization that Toji smacked you - and even later do you realize that you liked it. Slick beading through at the painfully good feeling.

Liked the way his rough palm was soothing over the sting, words strangled and slurring together as he smacks his lips against your swollen, sensitive ones. “I’d rather you fuck me than some hah- other loser.”

“S-so fucking mean-” you moan.

“So what?” His thumb draws tight little circles on your throbbing clit, the other hand looping around your waist - bruising - as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his hot mouth. “No one else could do this.” Soft tongue going all the way up from your base, “Get you this wet-” Just dipping into your clenching hole. “-taste you like this.”

“Hngh- fuck-” you groan, as he alternates between flicking your clit so mean and squeezing his tongue into your tight cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck- s’too much-”

Too much? Toji wanted to laugh - if he wasn’t so addicted to the feeling of your gummy walls stretched out so obscenely on his tongue, anyway. He knows you can take it - you always did. 

And he tells you that - a little over ten times, actually, as the hand on your waist arches you deeper and deeper onto Toji’s tongue. Fucking you so harshly - merciless. Unrelenting. Like he was taking any and every shred of anger out on your ravaged cunt.

Bucking your hips wildly, you tipping your head down to look at the sight below you and oh-

You gasp at how sinfully blissed out Toji looks between your thighs. Eyes glassy and hooded, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. Your slick glossing his lips so prettily - and if you angled your head just right you could catch the way it drips down his jawline. Yeah, maybe you really did like his face between your legs. 

“Always knew ya did, doll.” he echoes against your glistening lips and shit, did you say that out loud? 

It doesn’t matter, because Toji has his lips smushing against yours, such a filthy mess of spit and fingers and tongue - everywhere. Like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to taste more. “Knew your pussy missed me, even when you’re such some other bastard. She’s still so sweet.” Thrusting in and out faster past that first, feeble ring of resistance. “So messy f’me. Fuckin’ my tongue so good for s-someone that hates me.”

And you have half the mind to wonder whether it hurt - how his fingers weren’t cramping up yet, lips aching. Letting you push his face deeper into your pussy, ankles locking around his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to shut him up. Close. 

“Y-you talk ngh- too much.” Blood roaring in your ears, feeling his smirk against your cunt. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Nah, I know you ah- love it.” Smack! Another handprint on your ass that has you stuttering and jolting on his face. “Can feel you clenching all around me because I-” Toji gives you such an infuriating wink from below,  “-eat this pussy the best.”

 And you would be mad at how cocky he was being - if you weren’t cumming all over his pretty face. 

Stars behind your eyes with each little lick of Toji’s tongue as he fucks you through your high, lapping up all your sweet sweet juices. 

“W-wait oh-” you were letting out such delirious little whines. “S’too sensitive- too- hngh-”

“No-” he grits out, voice shot. “No no no no- wan’ it. Need it.” Scrambling to pull your hips back onto his mouth. Fingers just bruising on your skin. 

He was like a man possessed, and you can only lay there and take it as Toji tips his head back to let your slick slide, down, down, down his throat. Voice shot, as he grits out, “Oh fuck, been holdin’ out on me.” Eyes unfocused and miles away as he comes up to squish your cheeks together in an embarrassing little pout. “Open that fucking mouth.” 

And you barely even realize it when you are - tongue lolling out so sinfully. The only thing jolting you back to whatever senses you have left is Toji spitting in your mouth. 

A steady, angry stream of saliva before his lips are clashing once more with yours. Purposefully letting your juices smear all over both your lips, tasting yourself and him and how desperate you were on his tongue-

“O-oh my god.” you break the kiss at the feeling of something so hard against your cunt. Delicate strings of spit snapping as you whirl down to look. Shit, when did he even take off his-

Ah, how Toji loves the breathless little whimper that leaves your lips at the sight of his too-tight boxers, the insults failing you now. Humming, “Like what ya see?” 

As if to prove his point, he tugs them down just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free. Fuck, you think you’ll never get used to it, even after so long - Toji was so fucking massive. Flushed red, soaked in beads of precum that drip down, down, down all the way to the tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

So thick and angry that your legs were clenching together just at the mere sight. And Toji notices - how could he not?

“Yeah…” he murmurs, as if continuing a conversation from before. Muscled arms pushing your thighs apart to watch how your sloppy pussy was drooling all over the couch. “She definitely missed me, look how much she’s gushing.” Pooling your juices on his fingertips, “Clean your act up, doll”

“Shut up.” you squeal, embarrassedly, giving Toji a glare that makes his balls squeeze so painfully. Smirking, “You’re not even as big as him.”

Oh. 

Well, Toji didn’t like that - not one bit, in fact, as he shoves his dripping wet fingers in your mouth - pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knows will have your pretty eyes welling up with tears.

“Then why aren’t you with him, you little bitch. Think I like you better when you’re f-fucked dumb.” he spits dangerously against your lips. Fisting his cock to lazily drag up and down your puffy folds. “Don’t you hah- agree?”

He doesn’t get to find out if you agree - and he doesn’t care, either. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to give an answer even if you wanted to. Because his swollen cock was too thick, the stretch too sinful, too dizzying as Toji splits you apart on his unforgiving cock. 

“Mmmpf- fuck! Hah-” you mewl, torn between running away from his cock and bucking down for more more more-

“More?” he laughs, “Ya ask him for more like this too?”

And oh how so very cute and pliant you were being stuffed full. He barely gives you the time to adjust because - why would he? Toji has his mouthy wife all breathless and splayed out so shamefully, desperately trying to milk his cock for all he’s worth. 

Barely even halfway in, yet he rocks into you in shallow, teasing little grinds just to fit himself inside your tight pussy. So mean. Not giving a fuck about those teary whimpers leaving your mouth.

“They ever ngh- fuck you like this?” he rasps, dropping his head to leave little bites down your tender neck. “Ever h-having you crying for his dick like ngh- this?” And despite all his confidence, Toji didn’t want to hear the answer - didn’t want to know the truth. “Such a slut.”

Your nails rake angrily down his sculpted shoulders - a warning, and it’s about the only thing you can do as Toji speeds up. Faster. Deeper. 

“Heh, what? Markin’ me up for others to hah- see?” he cooes, mockingly. And you could just cry as his grin widens, finally - finally - pulling his fingers out. “Why don’t you ngh- use your words instead?”

And you should probably breathe, probably tell him to fuck you exactly the way he wants to - to confess to him that this is all you’ve ever wanted on those lonely nights these past four months. But the both of you know that it’s more fun this way.

So instead, you smile sweetly, “F-fuck you. They do - a lot better, too.”

If only your voice hadn’t cracked so unconvincingly at the end - if only you hadn’t let out such a pornographic moan as Toji pulls your face to meet his. Kissing you over and over and his hips-

“I’m the one fucking you, doll.” he bites down on your lower lip, tugging and pushing at a senseless little rhythm - the complete opposite of his hips. “Remember that.” And that’s all that’s said before Tojis finally bottoming out all the way to the hilt. Heavy balls smacking sinfully against your ass, fat head just kissing your cervix. “It’s me. I don’t give a hah- shit if it’s been f-four mouths, it’ll always be ngh- me.”

The couch creaked in protest as Toji fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do. Like he was trying to fuck every thought of whoever came after him right out of you - along with those silly little thoughts about the divorce.

“B-but-” your eyes widen as Toji runs his mouth - as hasty and urgent as his movements now. Fingers snaking up to toy with your still-sensitive clit, not even drawing circles anymore - just messy, little patterns just to get you off. “We’re already-”

“You s-still think we’re oh- nothing but exes?” he questions, sounding as surprised as you felt. “We can’t stay ah- God, we can’t stay apart and you fuckin’ know it. So…”

You gulp, already knowing the answer to the question he was just goading you into asking. “So?” 

“So…” Toji muses, giving your swollen lips a short, chaste peck. Whispering against them, “M’gonna hah- fuck you till everyone knows you’re mine.”

A promise that Toji Fushiguro was well and fully intent on fulfilling. And you didn’t doubt that he’d have any trouble with it, in fact. 

Because he’s rutting into you so animalistically now, so so sloppy. Torn between savoring the feeling of your plushy walls squeezing him to insanity and abusing your poor cervix. Prominent veins making you feel a maddening little thump thump thump as he roams for that one-

“Ah! Hngh- Toji!”

Found it. 

And Toji had everything he needed - you, his wife, spread so sinfully and stuffed to the brim with him. Hitting your sweet spot over and over- 

“No loser’s gonna fuck you like this.” he breathes against your ear. “Have you ngh- feeling this good.”

“I- ngh- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” you let out, hips mindlessly bucking down in a pathetic attempt to meet his rough thrusts. “S’too- hah- oh my god. S’too good-”

“Shut up.” Oh he sounds so absolutely wrecked. Sanity crumbling away bit by bit every time he’s plunging his cock - so painfully hard - into your wet pussy. “Do you even ah- realize how sexy you look right now?” Toji throws his head back, eyes still locked on you like it killed him to look away. “Never lettin’ anyone else s-see ya like this. They’re gonna look at you and see me-”

You don’t even know what he’s babbling about anymore. Just that his achingly hard cock was making such a mess of you, pulling back only to go deeper. Massaging all the right spots as fucked you harder into the couch. 

“Me-” he gasps. “That date is gonna fuck- know,” Hips stuttering and absolutely filthy, “That cashier d-down the ngh- street that eyes you up every time is gonna know-” Angry. Desperate. So, so needy. “Your fucking lawyer- ngh- s’gonna know. They’ll s-see you and see me me me me-”

At this point you can only nod deliriously, letting out a broken little, “Hngh- yeah, wan’ that, Toji. Wan’ you so bad.”

Toji presses another chaste kiss - this time to your forehead. Whispering a quiet, “Then cum f’me, doll.”

You do - the hardest you ever think you ever have in your entire life. Thighs shaking, vision spotty, sparks of white-hot electricity going all the way from your hazy brain to where Toji was fucking you through it.

Muffling your moans with his mouth as he gives one, harsh thrust. Then spilling into your gummy walls, painting it all an obscene white with rope after rope of hot cum. 

So wet and hot - with him. All him. 

And you look so cute taking it all like the good little wife that you are, that he can’t help but press down on your lower stomach. Awe-struck at how your cunt gushes around him, coating his twitching cock as Toji fucks his seed deeper and deeper into you. 

But, hell, that wasn’t his favorite part - not by a long shot. Instead, it was probably when you pulled him into his arms, whispering sweet little nonsense in his ear about “how you missed this” and “that date wasn’t real anyway” as he fucks the two of you through your highs. Sweet. Familiar. 

“Oh, God-” he mutters into the crook of your neck, slightly calmer now. Much more clear-minded than the two of you were mere seconds before. “We broke the couch.” 

And it was true - one side was sagging much more than the other. Though you can only let out a giggle in response. Doesn’t matter, the two of you’ll pick out a new one tomorrow - he always hated this new one, anyway. “Happy anniversary, wifey.”

---

“Damn kid, that ol’ dad of yours sure is running late.” Shiu crosses and uncrosses his legs with slight nervousness. Eyeing the small, dark-haired boy playing with blocks a few feet away, “Maybe we should-”

“It’s okay. He’ll be back.” Megumi deadpans, sounding like the absolute last thing on his mind was why his dad was taking way too long for what should’ve been a half an hour errand. Shiu - on the other hand - had his mind whirling with imaginations of traffic accidents or murders or- what if the two of you killed each other- “And he’ll bring back mama too.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. The older man stared wide-eyed at a slightly-smiling Megumi. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait- no, what did you-”

“Nothing.”

Because, hey, Megumi might’ve had to go without his favorite wolf plushie for a bit - but a magician never reveals his tricks, right?

A/N. So how does it feel to be played by a kid, hm?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[wwinterwitch]

friendly introductions – bucky barnes

summary: bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, and he's brought a few people with him

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (ft. the thunderbolts*)

word count: 3.4k

tags: thunderbolts* shenanigans, spoilers here and there obvs, slight miscommunication, big happy dysfunctional family in the making, google translator was used for the russian words (sorry), kissing, little bit of angst and little bit of fluff

notes: i just saw the movie yesterday and as soon as i got back home i decided to write this, which is loosely connected to this fic i posted recently. i just loved the thunderbolts* so much they mean the entire world to me right now. perhaps more fics are coming in the future because i have lots of ideas!!! as always, i hope you enjoy

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 1 (not strictly necessary to read this one tho) | next part

“Sorry for such short notice,” Bucky mutters as soon as you open the door for him and the rest of the entire group. You could tell he’s been having a pretty rough time just by looking at him. Hair messy, frowning more than usual, dirty clothing and a cut on his left cheek. The rest of the people he’s with don’t look any better. It wouldn’t take an expert to figure out they’ve been in some kind of combat and, most likely, they didn’t come on top. 

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassure him, leaving the door open until every single one of them were inside your apartment, closing it behind them. “Can I ask what happened?”

“We…uh, got our ass kicked, basically,” he replies, sounding quite exhausted. 

You take a second to look at the group. Unfamiliar faces of people you could only assume are in the superhero/villain/whatever business. There’s a blonde woman who immediately leans against one of the walls of your living room, trying to get some sort of rest after the fight. The other woman stays by the entrance and you can’t help but admire how cool her suit is. There’s algo a guy in a red suit and he looks absolutely huge and terrifying, but the smile he sends your way with the silly little wave he makes as you make eye contact gives you the impression that he might not be as intimidating as you initially thought.

And then, your eyes focus on the other person in the room.

“You,” is all you say, your voice sounding anything but welcoming.

Everyone turns to look at Walker, who offers you an awkward smile. “Yeah, hi.”

“You two know each other?” the blonde one asks.

“Unfortunately,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the guy at all times. You know enough about John Walker to be stupid enough to let him out of your sight. “Listen, I don’t know what just happened to you guys, but in case Bucky hasn’t warned you already, you can’t trust this piece of shit.”

Noticing you’re starting to get a little heated by his presence, Bucky wraps an arm around your waist from behind, just in case you decide to go over him and confront him for everything that has happened in the past. “It’s okay. He’s here to help.”

You turn to look at him like he just said the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard in your life, but he simply stares back at you with a serious expression, nodding as if to emphasize on his previous statement, trying to let you know you can actually trust the guy. When you turn back to look at Walker, he raises both hands in the air as a sign to further prove that he’s harmless.

“I’ll be keeping an eye out,” you warn him, pointing your finger at him. 

“That’s fair,” he nods.

“Whoa, she’s feisty!” you hear the excited voice of the guy in the red suit as he lets out a short chuckle. “I like her already!”

You feel Bucky’s grip around your waist tightening. “We’re just here to get some cover and figure out our next move.”

Suddenly remembering the fact that all these strangers are standing in various spots in your living room, you get away from Bucky to walk over to your couch. “Oh, so sorry! What a terrible host,” you attempt to joke a little in hopes of lightening the mood, quickly removing your laptop and various papers scattered across your couch. “Please, take a seat!”

None of them move at first, but they eventually accept the invitation and walk towards your couch to sit down. All except Walker, who decides to stay in the same spot he’s been since he entered your apartment. Not like you care, so you just let him stand there on his own.

A few awkward introductions later and you already know everyone. Alexei, Ava and Yelena. One a total stranger and the others slightly familiar to you due to them being related to Natasha. You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name out loud, though. If you struggle to think about her without bursting out crying, you can’t even imagine what it would be like for her dad and sister. Last thing you want is to cause them any discomfort.

“And how exactly do you know each other?” Yelena asks you and Bucky after you introduce yourself to them too.

“Former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Bucky replies before you can say anything, and you can’t help but turn to look at him with a slightly confused expression. “We’ve been friends for a very long time.”

Friends. Sure. Whatever. If that’s what he wants to call it…

After what happened last time you were in D.C., Bucky was constantly making trips to New York to visit you. You’re not officially dating, but it’s established that you’re exclusive. Long distance isn’t ideal, but you’ve made it work so far. Probably the happiest months of your life. But now…you hear him introducing you as his friend. It’s not really a big deal. Technically you are friends? It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, but…you’re internally fuming right now.

Still, you decide not to say anything regarding that. He’s always been quite a reserved person, so perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable enough to share that information with them just yet. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you decide to ask, looking at everyone else.

“We’re not-”

“I’m sure a glass of water won’t kill anybody,” you say, immediately cutting Bucky off.

There’s a brief silence before Ava speaks. “I’ll have a glass of water. Thank you.”

You look at Yelena as she shortly nods before you focus on Alexei. “Do you perhaps have something else other than water?”

“Dad,” Yelena warns him.

You ignore that short interaction. “Something like what?”

“Like vodka,” he replies simply, like it’s a normal request. Perhaps the russian accent and the fact that he does look like a walking Soviet propaganda adds context to it.

“Dad!” Yelena repeats herself, this time in a louder voice, before hiding her face in her hands. The scene of her getting embarrassed by her dad’s behavior is actually hilarious.

“Two glasses of water and one glass of vodka, got it.” Then it was time to acknowledge Walker again. Even when you deeply hate the guy, you still want to be polite. “Do you want anything?”

“Uh…just water,” he mutters, still unsure on how to really talk to you. It’s ironic how quiet he is right now, considering he had a hard time shutting his mouth when you first met him. “Thank you.”

You offer the group a smile before excusing yourself to go to your kitchen, leaving them momentarily alone. Bucky was about to speak, wanting to initiate a debate on what their plan is going to be to fight against someone as powerful and seemingly invincible as Sentry, but Yelena speaks before he does.

“Now, would you mind telling us how you really know each other?”

Bucky looks immediately confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know I was trained to be a spy since I was very little.”

“Surely you don’t say it enough,” Walker mutters, earning an unamused look from her.

“That must really bother you, Mr. I-was-in-the-military,” Ava chimes in, rolling her eyes.

Ignoring both of them, Yelena decides to continue. “I’m very good at reading people, Bucky. She almost wanted to punch you in the face when you said you two were friends, which let’s me know the comment upset her,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Why is that?”

“Ah! That’s your lover!” Alexei comments with pleasant surprise.

“And you didn’t introduce her as your girlfriend?” Ava says shortly after, giving him a disapproving look. “No wonder she would want to punch you in the face.”

“Yeah, that’s not cool, man,” Walker agrees from his spot in the living room.

Alexei’s cheerfulness dries down, nodding. “I agree. It’s not very nice.”

Bucky scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest in a defensive manner. He couldn’t believe these people were judging him over something he thought was meaningless. It was just a way to keep his private life private. Why should they know he’s dating anybody? They’re not his friends to be sharing information like that with them. And it’s not like they’re ever going to see you again anyway. Why is this such a big deal?

“Whoever I date or don’t date it’s not your business,” he simply replies.

Ava scoffs this time. “Don’t bring us to your girlfriend’s flat then.”

“When did you guys became a thing?” Walker asks this time, looking like he's thinking back on it in hopes of remembering any indication that might've gave it away.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, getting more and more exasperated. “We barely got out of that fight against Valentina’s experiment and it’s a matter of time before we have to face him again. Why are we even talking about this?”

“Oh, Bucky,” Yelena shakes her head in a condescending manner. “You’re right, we do not care about your lovelife. Thinking about it makes me sick, actually. But she looked really hurt by what you said, so perhaps you should go talk to her and make things right.”

The other three agreed with Yelena almost immediately, and Bucky just stood there looking at them in disbelief because why are they giving him their input on his relationship? Why is Yelena giving him advice? Why are they getting involved in Bucky’s personal life?

But instead of arguing, he decides to listen to them and heads towards the kitchen. He walks in just in time to see you pouring Alexei an entire glass of vodka as he requested, the other three glasses of water already filled.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” you say nonchalantly, like what Yelena said about you wanting to punch him in the face was just something she misread in your body language. You surely don’t look like you're thinking about violence right now. “Could you help me with the drinks, please?”

Perhaps Yelena was wrong, but just in case she wasn’t, he decided to ask about it. “Are you okay?”

You let out a quick and confused chuckle as you store away the almost finished bottle of vodka. “Why would I not be okay? If you’re asking because you brought them here, I think they’re actually very nice…aside from Walker, of course.”

“No, I mean…the way I introduced you to them,” he says in a soft voice, walking closer to you. “I probably shouldn’t have said you were my friend.”

There’s a brief pause between you, until you’re eventually shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” he insists, standing right before you as he grabs your hands in his. “Talk to me.”

You hesitate a little before eventually giving in. “I mean, you can’t expect me to be thrilled to hear you introduce me to a bunch of people as just your friend.”

Bucky sighs. Yelena was right. “I’m so sorry,” he says almost immediately, giving your hands a light squeeze. “I just met these people and I highly doubt we’ll keep in touch after this. I didn’t want to share that information with them. We’re not exactly…close like that,” he explains himself, looking genuinely sorry for what he said. “I should’ve considered how that would make you feel, or at least tried to explain why I did it as soon as I could. I didn’t mean to hurt you or downplay what we have.”

You can tell he’s genuinely sorry, understanding his reasoning behind it. Perhaps you forgot to put into perspective the fact that they’re just super people Bucky has been forced to work with. Not necessarily friends. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Bucky nods, but he still looks absolutely defeated. “I feel terrible,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You let go of his hands, wrapping your arms around his neck instead. “It’s okay, babe,” you repeat, offering him a soft smile to let him know you forgive him. “I understand you didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with them.”

“I promise I won’t do it again.”

“You’re not obligated to disclose anything with anyone if you don’t feel like it,” you say, just to remind him to do whatever it feels right to him. “But I’m glad we had this conversation to hear each other’s perspective.”

He nods again, still uncertain. You lean in to give him a reassuring kiss before deciding to move away from him to get back to the living room with the rest. He hands the glasses of water to Walker and Yelena, while you hand the other glasses to Ava and Alexei.

The last one takes a big gulp of his glass, letting out a growl of approval. “Smirnoff! Not that Absolut der’mo!”

“I adore him,” you say to Bucky, letting out a quick chuckle as you watch the guy drink the entire glass of vodka in less than two seconds.

“It’ll pass, trust me,” he mutters back to you.

You gently hit his arm as a way of telling him to not be rude, immediately focusing on the cut on his cheek, dried blood around the wound. “I should clean that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I do worry, Bucky,” you insist, patting his shoulder before pointing to one of the two chairs at your small dinner table. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

You excuse yourself to go find the first-aid kit to clean the wound on his face. By the time you get back, the group has already started discussing some sort of strategy regarding some ‘Sentry’ person you don’t know absolutely anything about. Perhaps you’ll ask Bucky to give you a proper update on what the hell this whole thing is all about next time you’re alone.

As obedient as ever, Bucky was already sitting on one of the chairs you previously pointed at before leaving, so you walked over to him to attend to his injury. Even if it was a small, almost insignificant little cut, you wanted to take care of him in any capacity you could.

You were gladly surprised when you feel one of his arms wrapping around you, keeping you close as you stand next to him cleaning the dry blood with a small cotton ball before disinfecting the area, finishing it off with a small bandage above the cut. 

The whole entire time you took care of Bucky’s wound, the group was talking about their strategy. Just listening to them was enough to figure out why Bucky didn’t think they’d stay in touch once it’s time to part ways. More than half of their interactions are more bickering than actual communication. They clash almost constantly and they don’t seem to agree on much. They’re quite honestly a complete mess. But still...even when it’s difficult to see how a group like this could work, they oddly do. There’s just something about them. Perhaps they’re the prime example of how opposites tend to work together perfectly. 

“Done,” you whisper to him, not warning to interrupt their conversation.

“Thanks, doll,” he whispers back, giving you a smile.

After a few more minutes of planning, it was finally time for them to get back out there in hopes to put an end to the threat that seems to loom over New York (and perhaps the entire world). You accompany them to the door, all of them saying their goodbyes to you.

“Thanks for letting us hide here,” Yelena says with a polite smile, offering her hand for a handshake as a way to further prove her gratitude. 

“Oh, it’s really nothing. I’m glad I was able to help out,” you reply, accepting her handshake. “And…you know, good luck. You probably don’t need it, obviously, but just in case…”

“You’re adorable,” Ava comments with a smirk, patting your shoulder as her way of saying goodbye.

Alexei doesn’t even say anything. He just straight up walks towards you and wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he gives you a tight hug. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you pat his back as a way of returning the hug, hearing how Yelena and Bucky are frantically telling him to put you down immediately.

The three of them are already outside your apartment and it’s time to face Walker. He just says a quick “thank you” before walking towards the others that wait for Bucky in the hallway, knowing you probably don’t even want to address him. For now, you decide not to say anything to him. If you do see each other again, perhaps then you’ll try to figure out if you can look past the awful things he has done.

Now Bucky is the one who stands before you and all you can do is hug him as tight as you possibly can, almost not wanting to let him go. You know he’ll be fine. You know he’ll come back to you. But still, you can’t ignore the knot forming at the pit of your stomach, anxiety and fear consuming you at the thought of something happening to him.

He senses how you feel, hugging you back just as tight. “Please be safe,” he whispers.

You break the hug, looking up at him. “I should be telling you that.”

The comment makes him smile softly because it sounds like you're reprimanding him for what he just said. Immediately after, he's placing a hand at the side of your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, still as anxious as you were before. The fact that you still don’t fully know what they’re up against makes your situation worse. If it’s anything remotely similar to an Avenger-like threat, you have plenty of reasons to be afraid. “Just…just take care, please.”

“I will,” he replies, giving you a kiss so sweet and gentle that it practically takes your breath away. He knows you’re worried like never before and he wants to make sure he’s able to give you as much reassurance as he possibly can.

After a few more seconds of him just looking back at you with a soft smile on his face, he moves back from you, knowing he has to leave already.

“Promise you’ll be back soon,” you blurt out as he’s leaving your apartment, still fighting the urge to just yank him back into the apartment to keep him from going back out there.

“I promise you I’ll be back, darling,” he says without any hesitation, knowing he’ll do anything he possibly can to keep his word.

Finally, he closes the door of your apartment, leaving you all alone in there as you try to calm yourself down until everything is back to normal again and he’s here with you. Until he’s back in the safety of the arms of the person he cares most about in this entire world.

You focus on the four empty glasses, the lingering presence of everyone, the trail of dirt their boots left on the floor, the chair Bucky was sitting on just seconds ago...you can only hope they stay safe. Meanwhile, you decide to clean up the living room as a way of distracting yourself.

On the other side of the door, Bucky is turning to look at the group, rolling his eyes when he sees all of them grinning and nodding their hands in approval after witnessing him being so lovey-dovey with you, discovering a sight of him they probably didn’t even know existed.

“Not a single word,” Bucky warns them, immediately walking in between them to get to the elevator.

“What? We can’t say you two looked disgustingly cute back there?” Yelena jokes as she follows after him.

"Who knew that was hiding beneath all that...grumpiness," Ava comments right after.

“I said not a single word,” he repeats, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling terribly embarrassed right now. Or like he didn't find the teasing slightly entertaining. Just slightly.

“I mean, you did look cute,” Walker agrees.

“So cute!” Yelena emphasizes.

Alexei wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, much to his discomfort. “That was adorable. You, my friend, had the eyes of love looking at your zhenshchina!”

“And you had to make it weird,” Ava mutters after Alexei’s comment, just as the elevator doors are closing.

translations: der'mo (shit), zhenshchina (woman). again, i apologize if the translation is wrong, i don't speak russian