#seriously just. add a fucking pop up saying “are you sure?” before confirming

[ilikecorndogs]

kinda hate how "copy link" and "report as adult material" buttons are RIGHT next to each other with no pop up for the later

there have been so many times i went to copy the link to OP (mainly an artist, to credit them directly) and i overshoot the copy link button and WHOOPS this very cool and very SFW art now has a warning going RIGHT to staff saying how its actually NSFW. (and dont get me started on my thoughts about staff and adult material)

[rafecameronssl4t]

the jarah pregnancy made me so happy, so i was thinking about thornton!reader finding out an unexpected pregnancy

Sweet Nineteen || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: I was thinking the same thing 🤯

Warnings: vomiting, mention of drugs, r is pregnant at 19

Word count: 1,960

MASTERLIST (rafe x Thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The bile rises, thick and sour, up your throat, and you throw off the sheets in a panic, bolting to the bathroom. You barely reach the toilet before you’re heaving, clutching the rim as the wave of nausea overwhelms you. It takes a moment before you feel Rafe’s presence at your side.

Gently, he gathers your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail as he kneels down beside you. His hand is warm and steady on your back, rubbing small, comforting circles. “Fuck,” you mutter in a weak voice, feeling the bile burn again as you throw up once more. Rafe doesn’t flinch, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch grounding you.

“You okay?” he asks softly as you finally catch your breath, reaching out to flush the toilet. He sounds genuinely concerned. “I thought you don’t get boat sickness.” “Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before reaching for your toothbrush.

The cool water on your teeth and gums is a relief, and you close your eyes briefly, trying to shake off the dizziness. “Probably something bad I ate yesterday,” you add, glancing up in the mirror to meet his gaze. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed as he nods slowly, a hint of worry still lingering in his expression.

~

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be nineteen in like…” Sarah pauses, glancing down as she counts on her fingers, her grin widening. “Ten hours,” she chuckles, nudging you playfully. You smile, popping a grape into your mouth. “I know, crazy, right?” you say, shaking your head. It feels surreal, like the year passed in a flash.

Before you can say anything else, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. Turning, you spot Rafe and Topper strolling onto the sun deck, looking relaxed, almost too relaxed. But then the sharp scent of weed hits you, making you wrinkle your nose. You sit up from the sun bed, eyeing Topper with a grimace as you spot the joint hanging from his mouth.

“Are you smoking weed right now?” you ask, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. Topper raises an eyebrow, the joint dangling as he gives you a smirk. “Yeah?” he replies nonchalantly, taking a slow, lazy drag, as if daring you to say more. Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand in front of your face, trying to clear the air. “Well, go smoke it somewhere else,” you mutter. “The smell’s making me sick.”

Topper holds your gaze, his expression shifting to mild confusion mixed with amusement. “What? Never bothered you before, sis,” he says, exhaling another plume of smoke, clearly finding this reaction from you entertaining. “Seriously, get the fuck out of here,” you groan, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as a wave of nausea rolls over you. “I feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

Topper’s smirk falters as he studies you, genuinely taken aback by your reaction. He glances at Rafe, clearly puzzled, as if to confirm whether this is real or just a joke. Rafe watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he turns to Topper. “Just listen to her,” Rafe mutters, giving Topper a nod of silent insistence. With a sigh, Topper raises his hands in surrender, then stubs out the joint against the railing.

“Fine, fine. You didn’t have to ruin the fun,” he says, tossing the remnants aside. With one last look—half-amused, half-apologetic—Topper ambles off, leaving you Rafe and Sarah in a moment of silence. You exhale slowly, the nausea finally beginning to subside as the smell dissipates, while Rafe lingers, his gaze still fixed on you, as if silently checking to make sure you’re alright.

Did you take any medicine?” Rafe’s voice breaks the comfortable silence between you and Sarah as he strolls over, his expression softened with concern. He sits down beside you on the sunbed, his hand instinctively reaching for your thigh, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.“Yeah,” you reply, offering him a small smile. Sarah perks up at the exchange, her brows knitting together in curiosity.

“For what? Are you sick?” she asks, tilting her head with genuine worry. You shake your head, hoping to ease her concern. “I threw up this morning. I think I just ate something bad,” you explain, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. Sarah’s expression shifts to one of cautious relief as she slowly nods, her eyes lingering on you for a moment.

~

You glance at your watch: five minutes until midnight. The bathroom is quiet and dimly lit, but inside, your mind races as you stare down at the test, barely able to breathe. With trembling fingers, you turn it over, bracing yourself—and your heart stops. Two clear lines. Positive. Pregnant.

The air feels thick, each breath you take heavy with the weight of this sudden, life-changing truth. Pregnant at nineteen. You feel a tear slip down your cheek as the reality of it hits: the uncertainty, the responsibility, and the tiny spark of awe that stirs in your chest at the thought of the life growing within you. Who would’ve thought?

Just as you’re caught in the storm of emotions, you hear Rafe’s voice calling out to you from down the hall, his tone carefree and excited. “Babe, where are you?” Your heart skips, and with a surge of panic, you quickly hide the test in the drawer, wiping away the tears from your face. You glance in the mirror, dabbing beneath your eyes to make sure there’s no trace of the overwhelming emotion that just ran through you.

“Here!” you call out, doing your best to sound cheerful as you step out of the bathroom, forcing a smile onto your face. You walk toward Rafe, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gives you that familiar, comforting smile, his hands settling on your waist. “There you are,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He glances down at his watch, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“C’mon, three minutes until midnight,” he says, a spark in his voice as he takes your hand and starts leading you down the hallway. As he pulls you along toward the top deck, you can’t help but glance back at the bathroom door, where the test lies tucked away, as if leaving behind the secret that’s only just beginning to dawn on you.

The cool night air brushes over you as you step onto the deck, where Sarah and Topper are waiting, chatting and laughing under the glow of fairy lights strung around the railings. The ocean spreads out beneath you, dark and endless, stars reflecting off the gentle waves. You try to take it all in, hoping the beauty of the scene will settle the nerves still buzzing under your skin.

“What’s the time now—” you begin, but before you can finish, the sky bursts into a riot of color as the first firework explodes overhead. You gasp, your hand flying to your mouth in surprise as another spark ignites, followed by another, each one brighter than the last, painting the sky in shades of red, blue, and gold.

Your eyes widen as the fireworks continue to light up the night, each one booming and shimmering against the dark sky. The sight is breathtaking, yet you feel tears pricking your eyes again, overwhelmed by the moment, by the beauty of it all, and by the tiny life that only you know about.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rafe whispers close to your ear, his arms slipping around you from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His warmth seeps into you, grounding you as you lean back against him, watching the fireworks burst above you. You turn in his arms, unable to stop the tears that slip down your cheeks, your emotions too strong to hide. Rafe’s face softens, his thumb brushing against your cheek to catch a tear.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern as his hands gently cradle your face. You hold him close, gathering the courage to tell him what you’ve only just discovered. Voice barely above a whisper, you lean in close, “I’m pregnant.” The fireworks continue to crackle overhead, and your words are nearly lost in the noise. Rafe pulls back, searching your face with a confused look. “What?”

A nervous laugh escapes you, and this time, you say it louder, “I’m pregnant, Rafe!” His face shifts, eyes widening as the realisation dawns on him. “You’re pregnant?” he repeats, his voice filled with awe, and you nod, unable to hold back the smile spreading across your face. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he pulls you into a deep, joyful kiss, his hands cradling your face like he’s afraid to let go.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “We’re going to have a baby,” he says softly, almost as if he’s speaking to himself, still in shock but brimming with happiness. “What’s going on?” Sarah’s voice cuts through, and you both turn to see her and Topper walking over, eyes filled with curiosity.

You beam at them, feeling a rush of excitement at sharing the news. “I’m pregnant!” you announce, your voice trembling with joy. Sarah’s jaw drops, her hand covering her mouth as she lets out a squeal of excitement, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh my god, y/n, are you serious?! This is amazing!” she cries, nearly bouncing with joy as she squeezes you.

Topper’s eyes go wide, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe with a grin spreading across his face. “Holy shit, dude! You’re gonna be a dad!” He claps Rafe on the back with enthusiasm, pulling him into a quick, celebratory hug as they both break into laughter. Rafe chuckles, patting Topper’s shoulder, a lightness in his expression that you rarely see.

“And you’re gonna be an uncle,” he replies, unable to hide the pride and excitement in his voice. Topper’s grin softens a little as he turns to you, arms wide open. “Congrats, sis,” he says warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. His embrace is solid and reassuring, swaying you back and forth as you both share a laugh. “Mom’s gonna be over the moon,” he says, chuckling as he releases you.

You smile, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “You really think so?” A part of you can’t help but worry about how your parents will react to the news, especially given that you’re only nineteen. Their expectations have always been high, and this wasn’t exactly in their plans for you.

“Oh, trust me, I know so.” Topper’s eyes twinkle with a mix of reassurance and amusement. “She might put on a big act and pretend to be shocked, but deep down, she’s been waiting for this. She’s dreamed of being a grandma for years.” He gives your arm a gentle squeeze, his playful grin easing your nerves a little.

As you pull away from Topper, Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist, drawing you close to his side. He looks down at you, his expression softening, and leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of wonder, as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around it.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you as you snuggle into him, resting your head against his chest. “Me neither,” you reply softly, your voice filled with quiet happiness. “But I’m glad it’s with you.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back as the reality of it all settles between you.

[kiridarling]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄

d.kaminari and h.sero | f!reader + corruption + weed/shotguning + praise + threesome + more! minors dni!

— 3.6k words

"I knew I wanted you the second I saw you."

Denki’s addicted to the pre-concert high.

His veins hum with a song that has yet to start, fingers drumming some mixed beat on the body of his electric guitar as he assumes his place on the dark stage. The theater’s dead silent, the room suspended in a titilating anticipation—and the steady rhythm Denki's heart dissapates into chaos when the faint crack of Eijirou's drumsticks bounce off the walls, and the click in his earpiece begins.

Eijirou hits the kick drum once. Twice. Then his hands fly across the set in a flurry, the rolling beat echoing into the packed arena and spurring the crowd to explode, fans flying to their feet to render their vocal cords for the night.

As the other instruments fill the blank space, Denki's hand grips the back of his guitar's neck, on hold for his solo, and by the time the electric blond steps up to the mic, pavlov's theory has already kicked in overdrive.

"Who’s ready to feel good tonight?”

“Dude, I’m on fucking fire!” Denki vibrates, nearly glowing in comparison to his bandmates as they sift through a flurry of fans at a meet and greet. It always seems like Denki and Eijirou are the only ones with energy after a good show—but what can he say? Being on stage lights him up like a live wire.

"You said that last concert, buddy," Hanta snorts, before his a fan ran sacks his attention by shoving a tiara into his hairline.

"And? My point still stan—" Denki cuts himself off with a gasp as a bra slings across his face, followed by a burst of pain when the metal hits him in the cheek. He peels the lacy thing off with an eye on the audience and an eyebrow raised in question, unsure of what to do with the undergarment (other than put it on) until someone screams:

“Sign it!”

Denki shrugs and pops the Sharpie cap with his teeth to sign the crest of both cups before flinging it back into the audience—he can only pray it pinpoints its rightful owner before the meet and greet ends.

Katsuki clicks his tongue (because he hates these events) and as the next round of fans lineup in front of their table, Eijirou stretches like this is a sport, saying, “Guess it’s go-time.”

"Go-time is when we perform," Katsuki grumbles in the seat to Denki’s right. "Go-time is when we're in the studio makin' a goddamn album, not meeting crazy fuckin' fans—no, I’m not gonna marry you, you obsessed fuckin—“

“Oh, you're just salty you're not popular with the ladies~“ Denki gushes, wiggling his eyebrows, and a fan hands him a canvas the size of his upper body. “Un—oh wow, did you make this for me—Unlike me, of course.”

"Okay, pretty boy." Hanta rolls his eyes, before signing a phone case and returning it to an overzealous fan. With a hand covering his mouth, he whispers, “Can you believe this guy? So full of himself, I swear.”

The fan giggles and Hanta meets the blushing cheeks with a satisfied smirk. Denki huffs from the disrespect, crossing both arms over his chest. “Full of myself? It’s not my fault I’m sexy—*an autograph? Of course!"

Katsuki chuckles, scratching under his chin with ink blue fingertips, "Call yourself sexy one more fuckin’ time and I'm projectile vomiti—no, I'm not signing your tits, give me a goddamn paper or somethin—"

"What?” Denki scoffs, chest collapsing with the disbelief that one could make such a lie. “I'm literally the definition of I'm sexy and I kno—"

"Um, excuse me?"

His gesticulations freeze at the passive voice, arms stretched wide and to the sky, and Denki knows he has to look absolutely ridiculous as he blinks down at the next person in-line; who's stood with bambi eyes and such a sweet smile the electric blond thinks it might make him sick.

"I-I'm your biggest fan! Could you—um, please sign this for me?"

She comes alive, shoving a poster into his chest with pink cheeks and shifty irises. Out of all the bras, all the breasts he's been asked to sign today, and here you are, with your pocket-sized poster and your lamb countenance. Denki beams.

"Of course, Sweetness! What's your name?"

"[Y/N]!" you say, giggling, and it's so. Cute. Denki opens the Sharpie and struggles to focus on signing instead of your gorgeous fucking face.

"Anything specific you'd like me to say?"

And he knows there's a rule—there always are when it comes to these things, and it's simple: don't fuck the fans. As tempting as it is, don't invite them back to your hotel room because there are too many uncertainties, and if something leaks to the press that’s possibly career ending, that’s it. So, Denki holds his tongue. For the future of himself and the band.

"Uhm, just write what you want! I...I think I'd like it best if it was authentic and came straight from you, so."

Fuck. Of course she does.

And maybe Denki just can't help it when he leans down to speak, perhaps a little lower, "You want something more authentic, cutie?"

You light up like a kid on Christmas, gasping, "Yes please Mr. Kaminari!"

So eager, too.

"Awe, you can call me Denki if you'd like," he coos, and you nod so quickly he starts to worry about whiplash. "Meet me out back, in the alley behind the venue if you wanna get to know me better. Sound like a deal?”

"O-Okay!" You nod, and when he returns your sign you grip it tight between both hands. "I'll um, see you soon Mr. Kami—I mean, D-Denki!"

You flush from the mix up and bow in apology, and Denki knows he's made the right choice when you light up, indicating you have no idea what he meant at all.

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream," you hum, sniffling. You’re unsure if your nose is running, it's too frozen to tell, and it has you patting to confirm it’s presence. With your hands stuffed in your pockets and a jacket wrapped tight around your body, you'd think you'd be warm, but no.

The alley is dark. It's dank enough that you can smell it and you're positive what you're dancing in is vomit, but none the matter—today, you met your favorite band. Literally the people you'd die for.

"Merrily, merrily," kicking the loose rocks in the gravel every which way, you enjoy the sound of them scattering against the surrounding brick walls. "Merrily, merrily..."

"Life is but a dream," a voice finishes, a yelp rips from your throat and you jump twenty feet in alarm. But you’d know that voice anywhere; Denki chuckles at your reaction and it has you recoiling with timidity, unprepared for the surprised audience. "You have a lovely voice, Cutie. You should use it more often."

"I..." but you're not exactly sure what to say to that, knowing Denki's heard so many professional voices in his career to last a lifetime, and yet yours is lovely. "T-Thank you."

Denki watches your reaction with a hum and a smile, his visible breath escaping between the slit of his lips and into the cool air.

"Of course, Cutie."

Another voice sighs, shattering the friction that fills your gut when Denki gives you that look. You're not sure what to call it, but it makes you shiver, and that's enough to make you to run and hide.

"...Denki, who's this?"

"Um," the blond places his frozen hands in his pockets and swivels his head around to Hanta, guilty written all over his face. "A fan?"

Hanta sighs again, head tilting to the right in exhausperation, “Denki—"

"I know, I know," the electric blond sighs, waving him off. "But it's fine as long as we don't get caught, right?"

Hanta's black hair threatens to fall into his face so he combs through it, and you try not to drool at the sight of his bicep flexing. "Yeah, until we get caught."

A honk blares and it has you shrieking, to reveal a parked tour bus in the alley once the lights flicker on. Denki points the car keys at the vehicle and the doors swing open. "Awe c'mon, don't be a sour puss. It's a one-time thing, alright?"

Hanta's eyes narrow into slits.

"Seriously, dude! I'm a man of my word! On God."

The noirette's shoulders sag, but he waltzes around both of you to get on the bus. Over his shoulder, he warns, "Denki I swear to fucking god—"

"I'll be careful, I'll be careful~" he singsongs, hopping onto the stairs after the pianist. When Denki notices not you're not moving, he stills at the top step. "You coming, [Y/N]?"

"O-Oh, am I um, am I allowed?" You ask, biting your cheek at the thought of what Hanta just said as you peer around the electric blond’s body. Denki snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you're allowed," he exits the bus, only to tug you on via your collar. "Now c'mon! Let's have some fun, yeah?"

"Okay!"

Denki steers you through the bus and into a space that looks a bit like a living room, with a couch, tv, and a makeshift kitchen in the corner. Following Denki to the kitchen, you look around.

"Where are Kirishima and Bakugou?"

"Out drinking," Denki tosses, flicking open a RedBull. You wonder if this is always the post-concert routine. Hanta fiddles in with something on the couch, but he still has yet to look you in the eyes tonight, even when you ask him:

"What are you doing?"

It seems he didn't realize you’ve relocated from the kitchen to the couch next to him from the noirette nearly jumps. The green stuff in his fingers crumbles, and you scrunch your nose at the smell.

"It stinks," you add. Denki snorts, jumping onto the cushion to your right. There isn’t a whole lot of room and his addition causes your shoulders to slush between the two of them, but it’s strangely comfortable.

"It's weed," he explains like it's obvious. "You smoke, Cutie?"

"Obviously not," you and Hanta say at the same time. You turn his way, and for the first time that night, Hanta looks you in the eyes—and it's a smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners, but there's...something else. Something else hidden behind the thinnest veil that makes you cower, if ever so slightly.

Something feral.

Denki, unaware of the crushing grip your hand has around your thigh, huffs, and tosses the energy drink down his gullet, "It was a genuine question! Geez."

"What are you doing?" You ask again, and the electric blond whimpers from being ignored.

"Rolling a joint," he utters, lifting the paper to his lips to lick the length. You watch, semi-disgusted, as Hanta finally folds over the last bit of paper around the crest of the joint, gluing it together.

"Know what a joint is?" The noirette implores.

"Yeah," you breathe, shifting at the new closeness Denki provides when you feel his chest against your back. "My roommate smokes, so."

Hanta taps it on a tray, or what Denki describes as "packing it down," before twisting the tip and tossing it back onto the tray in conclusion. Denki cheers.

"Aha! The joint-rolling master has blessed us! Everyone say thank you, joint-rolling master."

"Thank you, joint-rolling master!" You giggle when Hanta's face turns a ruddy red. He reaches over to pop Denki upside the head. Denki gasps, before lunging to return the favor, and you squeal from being jostled between two men.

"Okay," when Denki returns to his seat he's panting and so is the noirette. He picks the joint off the tray and though there isn't much room, turns so he's facing you, your legs smushed against his body indian style. "You ready, Cutie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," you huff, swinging your arms in preparation despite the lack of space. Just in case.

Hanta snorts, holding the joint to your lips, and Denki raises the lighter and raises it to the end until it's hot enough to burn on its own.

“Now suck."

You do, cheeks puffing, and you blow the smoke straight in Denki's face. It's...a lot.

"Not quite," Hanta chuckles, and flips you via the waist so you're facing him. Denki whines from the change but finds solace in hooking his chin over your shoulder. "Suck, and then inhale. Act like it's a big breath—you gotta hold it in your lungs for a sec."

"Okay," you assert with a nod, eyes burning with a new determination. When Hanta holds it to your lips, you suck and inhale, and start coughing your throat raw, in a flurry of smoke and tears, eyes watering and nose burning. You scramble for water, but by the time you get some, the only thing that's left to soothe is a sore throat.

"Here," Denki offers, grabbing the joint before flipping you his way again. "Take smaller hits, like this."

Denki's mouth wraps around the tip and smoke pours from his lips so smoothly you're determined to do the same. With a raised eyebrow, he passes it back to you, and though it takes a moment, you try again.

The back of your throat tingles but the glide is much smoother, and you find that it doesn't burn on your next exhale. So you do it again. And again. And agai—

"Okay," Hanta picks the joint from your fingers with a click of his tongue, before taking a hit himself. You frown, making grabby hands.

"Hey, wai—"

"Nu-uh," he tuts, pushing you down by your forehead. "You'll feel it soon enough, trust me."

You whine, crossing your arms over your chest. Hanta gives you nothing but a raised eyebrow as he takes another hit, and you're convinced it's to taunt you. "I'm not eve—"

But then the world blurs, a bit, and your legs hum in a way they haven't before; it's warm and it's nice, and it has you blinking down at your hands in bewilderment. Whoa.

"And there she goes," Denki announces, and somehow seized the joint from the noirette when you weren't looking. Your mouth drops to say something, but all you can produce is a light giggle before it melts into a guffaw that only comes straight from the gut, your hands trying to soothe your cramping belly. Tears come to your eyes fairly easily, and when Hanta asks if you're okay he sounds like he's underwater, and that's enough to send you flying through another fit of laughs.

"I—y-yeah, I'm just—just fine," you snort behind a hand, chest spasming as you finally gather yourself enough to calm down. "I'm good. Mhm."

"Yep. Totally fine," Hanta says, but something in his tone suggests he doesn't believe you at all.

You nod, biting your bottom lip to avoid another laugh attack with your hands bunching the bottom of your shirt for extra purchase. Hanta narrows his eyes while taking another hit, so you sock him in the shoulder with a huff. "Stop looking at me like that."

The noirette snorts, "Like what?"

"Like..." you start strong, but falter under his eyes. "Like you want to eat me."

Hanta hums at the comment but says nothing, and you're not sure if your mind fabricated the quick look he gives the electric blond sat behind you. Denki speaks first.

"Do you know what shotgunning is, [Y/N]?"

You frown, "Like a shotgun?"

"So no," Hanta answers for you.

"Here," Denki offers, turning you again. Plucking the nub of a joint from the noirette, he takes a big hit before picking your face up by the jaw and hovering your lips over yours. You're not sure what to do, but once your lips connect, smoke fills your lungs, and you don't exhale until Denki pulls away. You blink, a little dazed.

You just kissed Denki Kaminari.

"Feel good?" He asks, never leaving your personal space. You nod, and he grins. "Wanna do it again?"

Your hands fist his shirt, teeth tearing the inside of your cheek due to the amount of embarrassment this question encourages. "I wan—can we do it again but without the um...without the smoke?"

Denki's hands find your hips and it's hard for him to contain a sly smirk, biting his lips to move in on his prey.

"I knew I waned you the second I saw you."

Denki's lips feel much better when he puts a little weight into the kiss, pinning you between him and the noirette. You're not exactly sure what you're doing but he takes the lead, titling his head and kissing harder, rougher, so your lips are pink and swollen by the time he pulls away.

"A-Another," you whimper, tightening your grip around his tee.

Denki hums in contemplation, picking your head up by your chin. "Ask nicely, Cutie."

Flushing deeper, your eyes dart to the coffee table.

“Another, please."

"Good girl," Denki coos, and he's propping you up against Hanta's chest. You shiver at the comment, finding purchase on Hanta's thighs as Denki kisses you on the lips again. "Wanna feel even better?"

"Yes," you nod vehemently. "Yes please."

Denki hums at that, climbing down your body as his hands glide from your waist to the band of your pants. You frown, "What—What are you doing?"

"Eating you out, Cutie," the electric blond says, hands freezing once his thumbs dip under your waistband. "That okay?"

"Oh okay," you breathe, relaxing against Hanta's chest. "Y-Yeah, that's fine."

Denki rips your pants off at that, tossing them towards the corner of the room and ultimately, to a place you'll probably never find them. Pushing your panties to the side, he licks his lips at the sight of your pussy, and flicks your clit with a smirk. You jump.

"H-Hey, that's not—"

He flattens his tongue against your slit and chuckles when you shudder, and after tossing both of your legs over his shoulders. You're not sure what he does after that though, because Hanta picks your face up by the chin and presses his lips to yours.

Denki slides a finger inside and you squeal against Hanta's chapped lips. You hear the electric blond moan, readjusting himself between your thighs, before you finally peel your lips off the noirette's, chest having from lack of oxygen.

"Such a pretty pussy, Baby," Denki gushes before his warm lips fold around your clit and he sucks, humming in surprise when you buck against his mouth. Hanta hooks his chin around your shoulder with a second joint dangling between his lips—and where it came from is beyond you.

Once he exhales, the joint finds its way between your lips and he instructs you to inhale, and the head rush afterwards has you digging your head into his chest.

"You're so wet, holy shit," Denki pulls away, lips strawberry pink and glossed with slick as he trades his both for his thumb and inserting another finger. It crooks just right and that's enough to make your hips buck, nails carving crescents in Hanta's thighs.

“T-There,” you whimper, wiggling your hips again, and Denki grins, thumb pressing into your clit. Your thighs quiver with the strain it takes to hold them back and Hanta’s calloused hands skip to your waist after dropping the burning joint off in the tray.

��Pull his hair,” the noirette commands, but you hesitate, hands glued to his thighs. Hanta sighs, reaching over you to tug for himself.

“Mph—fuck!” Denki’s eyelids flutter as he moans into your pussy with a new passion, his hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you in place. You gasp at his reaction, fingers scrambling under Hanta’s own to thread through his electric blond hair.

“Move your hips—grind against his face, c’mon,” Hanta’s grip tightens around your waist as he offers the suggestion, and you whimper with a nod before your bucking into Denki’s mouth without abandon. As the noirette trails butterfly kisses up the column of your neck, the coil in your gut snaps, and you barely have time to squeak out a warning before you’re flooding Denki’s mouth.

“Good girl...ride it out—there you go,” Hanta coos, biting your ear. You shiver as Denki pulls away with a final (and obscene) slurp, grinning like he didn’t just shatter you to pieces with nothing but his tongue and fingers.

Denki’s lips are on yours in a blink—you moan, legs still buzzing from the afterglow as you weakly grope for the small hairs on the back of his neck.

“Taste good, don’t ya?” He says with a click of a tongue after pulling away.

“I guess so,” you flush, the humiliation from so shamelessly digging your heels into Denki’s back finally settling in. Hanta reaches under your arm for Denki’s chin.

“What? Want a taste too?” The electric blond giggles, wiggling his eyebrows. Hanta snorts.

“If you could be so kind.”

Denki hums at that, placing a hand on your inner thigh for balance as he slams his lips on the noirette’s for the first time that night. He dives straight for the kill, tongue and teeth and everything, and Denki moas when Hanta’s teeth sink into his bottom lip; you find that you like it a lot.

Though eventually you tired of watching, and press the heel of your hand on Hanta’s hard cock through the fabric of his jeans. The pianist hisses, and you grin—you’ve got their attention now.

“Whoa Sweetheart, what are y—“

“I...I want more,” you assert despite the tremor in your voice. Hanta raises an eyebrow in question which has you pressing harder in hopes he’ll cave just as easily as before. Just in case, you add, “Please.”

Denki redirects your attention by squishing your cheeks until you’re looking him in the eyes. With dark eyes, he says, “You sure you want more, Cutie?”

You nod despite the restriction, “Wanna...wanna get to know you better.”

You watch Denki’s pupils dialate at that, and he can’t even hold back a groan when he says:

“Gods, Baby. We’re going to ruin you.”

unpopular opinion: bakugou's the bassist and kirishima's the drummer. fight me.

not me projecting 12yo sun's fantasy of getting railed in the tour bus by 5sos um—

[ptergwen]

no sleep

pairing: singer!reader x tom holland || w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and many many many suggestive jokes

summary: you’re on jimmy kimmel to talk about your music, but he has other plans

a/n: y’all i’ve literally always wanted to write singer!reader and this idea just came to me and i had to get it out because it’s so cute :,) i really hope ya like it

-

jimmy kimmel invited you onto his show to promote a single from your upcoming album. you stepped out of the spotlight for a while, so this is your first official appearance of the year.

“my first guest tonight...” there’s a cheer from the audience. you grin to yourself, waiting for jimmy to finish announcing you.

“you wanna say it for me?” he chuckles and stands your picture up on his desk. “my first guest tonight surprised fans this morning with her new single ‘no sleep.’ it’s currently number one in over seventy countries.” jimmy holds for applause, which you get a ton of. you cover your hot face with your hands.

“she’s here to talk to us about the song and her short hiatus. please welcome y/n y/l/n!”

the music plays while you walk onstage, followed by more cheers and clapping. you’re beaming as you wave to everyone. you give jimmy a quick hug and exchange hello’s over the noise.

you’ve been in the industry for a few years, but you’ll never get used to responses like this. all the love really warms your heart.

“thank you!” you giggle out, taking your seat on the couch. the audience yells some more when the music dies out. “thank you so much! oh my god,” you make a face at jimmy, who laughs and gestures to everyone. “they clearly hated the song,” he jokes to you. “i was gonna say,” you agree, smoothing your dress down.

you look out at the crowd with a pout. “no, seriously. you guys are so cute.” jimmy copies your pout, earning a playful eye roll from you.

you’ve been on the show a couple of times before, so you two are friendly. tom has also brought you to chill backstage with him when he was a guest. you would’ve brought him this time if he wasn’t away for filming.

“so, you took most of the year off from making music,” jimmy starts the actual conversation. “mhm, i did,” you hum and cross one of your legs over the other. “how was that? was it weird not being in the studio?” you scrunch your face up, then he adds another question. “what did you actually do with yourself?”

“i mean, music is obviously a big part of who i am. making it, loving it, all that stuff.” a small smile crosses your face. “so, yeah. it sort of felt like something was missing at first.” jimmy nods along, you shrugging one of your shoulders.

“at the same time, i really needed to take a minute and just breathe. come back with my shit more together. i think i have,” you let out a reflective sigh. “it didn’t have anything to do with your boyfriend? a mr. tom holland?” jimmy teases, you waving a hand at him. “no, don’t give him all the credit.”

your break genuinely was for yourself. no one needs to know that tom was also off, or that he spent all his free time with you. that was just a plus.

“are you sure? because, it seemed like you two were getting really cozy.” a picture from your instagram pops up on the screen. it’s of tom under a blanket. he’s reaching out for you with a lazy smile. you lean over on the couch so you’re off camera, another giggle escaping you.

jimmy flips to another picture. “that was exhibit A. here’s exhibit B.” the whole audience coos, jimmy raising his eyebrows at you. this one is a mirror selfie from tom’s instagram. your arms are slung around his neck from behind, and half your face is hidden. tom is doing his signature eye crinkling smile into the camera.

“aren’t they just adorable?” jimmy asks the audience, making them erupt in more cheers. you sit up again and clear your throat. seeing those is bittersweet for you. “he’s very cuddly. anyway, back to the music!” you do a small clap. little do you know, there’s much more to come.

“yes, yes. back to the music. talk to me about ‘no sleep.’” the song is one hundred percent about tom. you’re not sure you should say that, considering the... explicit content in it. you and tom did get very cozy over your break, as jimmy would say. it was the only time you weren’t relaxing.

“well,” you plaster on an overly happy smile. that earns more laughter from jimmy. “it’s about what you do in bed when you’re, um, not sleeping,” you explain. “and who do you do those things in bed with?” jimmy glances up at the screen again. “you’re choosing violence today, jimmy,” you say under your breath.

there’s a chuckle from backstage that sounds eerily similar to tom’s. it must have been a PA. all this talk about him is seriously fucking with your head.

“well, everyone in my life inspires my work in some way. they’re such angels,” you dodge the question, thinking you’re clever about it. jimmy won’t let you get off that easy. “friends? family?” he asks you. “yeah, everyone,” you exhale in relief. jimmy widens his eyes at you. “so, that means ‘no sleep’ is about your mom?”

your mouth falls open. he’s really going to make you spill the details of your sex life.

“what the fuck, no!” you squeal, looking out into the audience for help. they join in your laughter. “it’s about tom,” you finally confirm so jimmy doesn’t suggest anything else. “it’s about tom, my god. next topic.” you’re smiling despite yourself.

“why? don’t you wanna tell us more about your lover?” jimmy glances off to the side. what is going on back there? you sit up straighter in your spot. “no, this is my interview!” you’re half joking, half serious.

although you and tom aren’t private at all, you’ve never talked about him this much. it’s overwhelming. besides that, this is making you miss him a lot.

“that’s too bad. we thought... we thought you might like to share it,” jimmy is already grinning about whatever he has planned. this isn’t supposed to be part of your segment. “huh? i’m literally so lost.” you furrow your eyebrows at him, lowering your voice. “we didn’t talk about this.”

he pats the arm of your couch. “they say there’s no time like the present. ladies and gentlemen, tom holland!”

on cue, tom runs out from backstage. the audience practically roars with how loud they are. people even jump out of their seats. you clasp a hand over your mouth in pure shock. this feels like a prank, like jimmy is about to say sike. then, tom comes up to the couch. you almost fall over, jimmy proudly watching on.

tom grins so wide it takes up his whole face. “happy release day,” he murmurs as you get to your feet. you’re not able to speak just yet, only staring up at him with glossy eyes. he brings you into a tight hug. his hands rub up and down your back, your arms snaking around his middle.

“tommy,” you try to whisper the nickname. you forgot your microphone is on. everyone “aw’s” at you both, including jimmy. “my love,” tom’s lips brush your cheek briefly. “hi, baby,” he speaks into your ear. you hide your face in his button up while he rocks you side to side.

he’s been away for a couple of months working on the third spider-man. this is the first time you’ve seen him since he left.

“shouldn’t you be in atlanta?” you ask louder this time for the audience to hear. you’re still doing an interview. “today’s a big day. i had to see you,” tom gives you one last squeeze. “in person,” he adds, before you can say you already facetimed.

the fact that him and jimmy put this whole thing together is making you emotional. you’d be fully crying if you two were alone right now.

“she doesn’t want you here, though. remember?” jimmy chimes in, tom breathing out a laugh. he sadly lets go of you. you flop back onto the couch, tom pointing behind him with his thumb. “i’ll just be on my way. five hour flight, no big deal.” “no, no, no, no. stay,” you whine and make grabby hands at him.

that’s all it takes for tom to slip into the spot next to you. he bites back a smile, putting an arm around you and the couch. you don’t want to annoy everyone with too much pda, so you subtly curl into his side. the people actually love you and tom together. jimmy claps his hands.

“we’ll be right back with y/n y/l/n and tom holland!” he says into the camera, the band playing more filler music. he steps out from behind the desk to greet tom. tom stands up, the two of them giving each other pats on the back. the camera stops rolling.

“hey, man. thanks for doing this,” tom puts a hand on jimmy’s arm. “anything for the happy couple. i’m gonna get some water, see you in five.” jimmy shoots you another smile on his way to his dressing room. you return it. that leaves you and tom to yourselves.

“baby,” you say in a sing song voice, dropping your head onto tom’s shoulder. “i’m so happy you’re here. i real life almost peed when you came out.” tom snakes his arm around your waist. “that would be upsetting,” he mumbles, his index finger drawing circles on you. “it would’ve ruined your very pretty dress.”

“you like it?” you knowingly tug at the form fitting material. tom shifts in his spot. “i’ll tell you what,” he leans in closer to you with a smirk, his breath tickling your ear. “we’re getting no sleep tonight,” he sings from the chorus of your song. you burst into a giggle and squeeze your eyes shut.

he ends up being right.

[mypoisonedvine]

The Perfect Fit | Bucky Barnes x reader (part 2)

(part 1)

summary: after getting fitted by you, bucky’s going to try on the custom-made suits he’s bought.  unless he makes his move now, he may not get to see you again, and he can’t let that happen.

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut!!, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), a little d/s energy, mirror kink, stomach bulge kink, slight pain kink?, creampie kink, pussy spanking, light bondage, bucky being jealous

Bucky had a bone to pick with Tony, which was usually true but this wasn’t work-related for once.  It wasn’t hard to find him in the same place he’d seen him last— eating his lunch in the kitchen, with Sam nearby chowing down on lo mein with a spring roll.

“Hey lefty, what’s cracking?” Tony greeted, mouth full but talking loudly anyways.  

"I went down to that tailor you recommended—" Bucky began, but Tony was quick to interrupt.

"You went there?  Dude, it's a really nice place, you can just call and she'll come to you instead, way more convenient."

"So now you say 'she'?"

Realization dawned on Tony’s expression.  "Ahh, I get it.  You're not used to a female tailor.  Adds a little spice to getting fitted, huh?" he grinned, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Bucky’s throat felt a little dry when he heard that.  "Don't tell me that's why you use her…"

"Hey now, I'm not a creep, I use her cause she's the best, and those house calls are great for discretion— you know, being a celebrity and all.  The eye candy part is just gravy."

"Gravy candy sounds disgusting," Sam chimed in, missing the point entirely.

"Yeah, well, she mentioned some stuff that sure made you sound like a creep."

"Okay, well, you can't blame me for getting caught staring when I'm surrounded by fucking mirrors.  Makes it hard to be stealthy."

"You could try not staring,” Bucky suggested flatly.

"Is that what you did?"

Tony smirked when Bucky failed to reply immediately.  "Okay, so it's easier said than done,” Bucky admitted with a frown, “but still, I hope these house calls were strictly professional."

“What’s it to you, man?  I think somebody’s jealous,” Tony purred.  

“What?  No, it’s not that,” Bucky denied.

“You love her,” Tony sing-songed, completely ignoring Bucky.  “You looooooove her!”

"You are so immature," Bucky rolled his eyes, even though his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was blushing.  

"No, it's good for you!  She's a catch, you're all brooding and stuff— maybe she can melt the Winter Soldier's frozen heart, hm?"

Sam laughed heartily.  "Stark, you read too many comic books."

"You're saying you don't wanna see Icy Hot here shoot his shot with my tailor?" Tony asked, turning his attention towards Sam.

Sam pondered that, much to Bucky's dismay.  "Depends.  How hot is she?"

"Mega," Tony smirked confidently.  "Legs for miles, and she wears these skirts that make her ass look—"

"I think I've heard enough," Bucky groaned.  "I'm leaving.  And don't ask when I'm going to see her again," he instructed, interrupting Tony just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, "because I won’t tell you.”

As Bucky left, he could hear Tony calling out into the hall: “But I’d be such a great wingman!”

//

Truth be told, Bucky had put off mastering the use of his smartphone.  It wasn’t just that new technology made him feel old, but that he knew nobody would be calling or messaging him anyways; if the phone didn’t work, he would spare himself the embarrassment of waiting up for nothing.

But once he knew you were going to call?  Suddenly, he was motivated to figure the sucker out.

A few hours later and now all he had to do was stare at it to make sure he wouldn’t miss you.  Luckily, you didn’t make him wait too long.  He recognized the number and decided to let it ring a few times before picking up, so it would seem like he had other things to do besides talk to you.

“Hello?” Bucky asked when he answered, so it would seem like he had other people calling him besides you.

You introduced yourself so formally that he was a little afraid that all that fun energy between you two would be gone.  Thankfully, once he asked what you were calling about, you were back to being cheery and casual again.

“I was just calling to schedule when I could come by with your new suits!” you explained, sounding chipper.

His fingertips were a little tingly just from hearing you talk, nervousness making him antsy (in a weirdly good way).  “I know you said it’s a one-person operation,” he responded smarmily, “but I figured you would outsource delivery.”

You scoffed, though it sounded more amused than irritated.  “It’s not just delivery, I have to check the fit and make sure everything’s exactly to your liking.”

“Oh, well, I’m free all day tomorrow— and I think you already know my address.”  Was it too forward?  Too obvious?  And why did Bucky spend half the time when he was talking to you second-guessing himself?

“Yes, Stark Tower is a relatively common destination for me.  If he doesn’t mind us using it, Tony has a dressing room with plenty of mirrors so you can get a good look.  But, I’d be happy to just go up to your quarters if that’s easier.”

He was not at all ready for you to see his room.  No way he could clean it enough in the next twelve hours; and even then, lots of the team had made fun of how empty and plain it was, so he knew it would just make you think he was boring.

“I’m sure Tony won’t mind you using his dressing room, but he might mind me using it,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well, if he makes a fuss I’ll be sure to set him straight,” you decided confidently.  Somehow, imagining you cursing out Tony was almost hotter than imagining you doing anything else.  “Be sure to bring down your dress shoes so you get the full look and everything.”

“Uhhh…” he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if he owned anything other than combat boots.  “Not sure I still have those, to be honest.”

"Okay, you'll need shoes too,” you noted aloud, your voice a little distant; he figured you were writing things down, which was why you sounded distracted.  “What size are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I'll bring a selection tomorrow,” you announced firmly.  “And socks, of course.  And some watches, maybe?  And pocket squares."

"Is that it?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh right, I’m bringing the ties you picked out, too.  I’ll throw in some alternates in case your original choices don’t match the way you were hoping.”

“You really are full-service,” he chuckled.

“I get that a lot,” you replied, a hint of coyness to your tone.

There it was again; that jealousy.  He hated it because he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop it either.  As much as his mind was completely aware that you were an independent, modern woman capable of handling herself, his heart was equally determined to protect you, and spoil you, and do whatever was necessary to make sure you were safe.  

Worse, his gut was less innocent.  Mine, it demanded, all mine.  Nobody else’s.

He pushed it down and just tried to get through the rest of the call without saying something he’d regret.  You confirmed the date and time with him, and he tried not to be too aggressive when he said he was looking forward to it.  

He hung up his phone and sighed, staring off into space.  Now all that was left to do was wait, and be overwhelmed with anxiety.  Thankfully, he was good at the second thing.

//

"So, what do you think?" 

I think you look so damn good from every angle.  I think I might spend all my money on suits just to be sure I can see you again.  I think you need somebody to love you the way you deserve.  I think you’d look like an angel waking up in my bed.  

You waved your hand in front of his face for a moment, calling his attention back to reality.  “Helloooo?”

Drawn out of his trance, Bucky finally looked in the menagerie of mirrors surrounding him and admired his reflection, amazed by the perfect fit of his first suit.  The difference in quality between this and something off the rack was beyond apparent.  Most of all, your talent was undeniable.  "I think it's beautiful."

You smiled proudly.  "Of course it is, but do you like how you look in it?"

"Honestly?  I feel a bit… out of place.  I'm obviously not classy enough for a suit like this."

"Oh, nonsense," you dismissed.  

He frowned, convinced this was all flattery.  "No, seriously, this is… maybe I should just wear tactical gear to every event."

"Well, you'd still look good, but you're not always a soldier.  Sometimes you're only a man.  And every man should own a fine suit."

It was much too profound of a thing to say while you casually straightened his jacket, only to pop out from behind his reflection to smile at him in the mirror.

“Let’s get the next one on you,” you decided, helping him lose the jacket but having him move into a private dressing room to switch trousers and shirts.  “I put a turtleneck in there instead of just a regular button-up,” you explained through the door as he changed, “in case you wanted to see it that way.”

Once he’d put it on, he stepped back out and you were looking at him so proudly— well, you were looking at your handiwork with pride, really, but he could pretend it was for him and hope actually impress you that much one day.

“I went with a shawl lapel on this one, as opposed to the last one which was notched,” you explained as you traced the line with your finger.  “Spoiler: the next one has a peak lapel.  But enough about that one: what do you think of this one?”

“This looks like something my friend Sam would wear,” Bucky decided as he looked at himself in the cranberry suit and black turtleneck.  The shoes you’d had him try on with this were intricate as well, with subtle stitching in the leather and a shine so immaculate he could almost see a reflection in them.  

“Well, is your friend Sam stylish?” you asked.  

“He would certainly say so,” he smirked.

“I’m inclined to agree, because you—” you gave him a thorough glance up and down, so thorough in fact that he felt a bit exposed under your gaze, “—look marvelous.”

“Not pretentious?” 

“No, no, it works on you,” you assured, “you’ve got the looks for it.”

“And what looks are those?”

“Um… good?  Good looks?” 

He definitely remembered a time when that seemed like the obvious answer, because he had relied on being good-looking for a lot of things in life, but that felt very far away now.  Maybe it was just that people who didn’t know what he’d done could still think he was good looking, but everyone else saw the evil within beginning to leak out the way that he did.  

But you knew what he’d done, didn’t you?  You had to.  You knew Tony, you were here at the Tower… unless you were intentionally not up-to-date on current events, you must have heard of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you huffed, “as if it’s a big secret or something.  You’re obviously very attractive.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously.  “Uh, thanks.”  He wanted to return the compliment, but thought it might be inappropriate or rude somehow.  You broke the silence quickly as you held up two pocket squares in front of him.

“Which of these do you prefer?” you prompted.  He selected the solid gold one, making you smile.  “I knew you’d pick that one.”

“How?”

“I dunno, just fits you,” you shrugged as you folded it and gently placed it in his pocket.  Even through so many layers, your touch on his chest made his heart flutter.  Your fingers brushing over his as you slipped a watch onto his wrist was enough to cause palpitations.

He looked better in this ensemble than he expected.  This version of himself looked much more likely to be invited to parties than any other version.  If only he actually wanted to go to parties.

You put him in the pinstripe suit last, after putting a few pins in the cranberry suit to indicate minor changes you would make later, and stepped back to ponder your work.

"Hm, unbutton those top two buttons for me?" you requested with a raised eyebrow.

I will if you do, he thought to himself, but silently unbuttoned his own shirt anyway.

"I mean, it definitely works like this, but I wanna see you in a tie.  And I've got juuuuust the one," you smiled.  Soon you were approaching him with a red paisley tie, and helping him button up his shirt and tying the tie for him— you explained something about how it was a unique knot he likely couldn't do himself, but he was too lost in having you so close to notice.  It would be so easy to just reach up and grab your waist, pull you into a kiss, finally tell you how bad he wants you.

Well, it would be physically easy, but it would be very scary.  Just imagining it had his heart racing.

“I heard from Tony this morning,” you informed him suddenly, slipping the tie around his neck and popping his collar up for him.

“Really?  Is he in need of a wardrobe update?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t realized that yet so that wasn’t what he called about.”

He laughed a little at the jab, though it also made him a little worried what secret opinions you held about his own style (or lack thereof).

“We talked about you, actually,” you added.

“O-oh,” Bucky stammered, “uh, he’s not exactly my biggest fan.  So whatever he said probably isn’t true.”

“He said that you have a crush on me,” you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your work on his tie.

Bucky gulped, and he knew you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple because you were staring right at his neck.

“Like I said, Tony isn’t a very reliable source,” Bucky replied, but his voice cracked in the middle and he cringed internally.

“I’ll write it off as another one of Tony’s off-color jokes then,” you dismissed, perfecting the knot of his tie and stepping back to observe him.  He always felt nervous when you looked at him like that, like he couldn’t hide anything from you.

“What… what did you say, when he told you that?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I asked him what he was smoking and if I could have some,” you laughed.  “I thought it was totally impossible— and don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you got hard when I did your inseam.”

Bucky’s throat became dry at the same moment that his palms got clammy.

“I— um, I was just—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you dismissed quickly, still talking about this all so casually which only made him even more confused, “you’re not the first, it happens.”

“I’m not the first?!” 

“Yeah, if anything you were one of the few who didn’t say something creepy about it, which is always appreciated.  It’s just a bodily reaction, you can’t control it.”

“Did Tony ever say something creepy?” Bucky pressed, his hands involuntarily tightening into fists— another bodily reaction he couldn’t control.

“You know, Tony said you were really worried that he had been inappropriate with me, or even that he and I had a fling or something,” you added as you stepped back, giving him a quizzical look, “and now it’s sort of sounding like he was right.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—”

“Was he right about anything else?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“I was being nosy, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that… and I know it’s none of my business, but the idea of him and you… it isn’t a pleasant mental image.”

You laughed a little, in a way that made him feel kind of small.  “Why not?  You know how he is.  Definitely has a wandering eye… and occasionally a wandering hand.”

Bucky winced.  “I swear, if he ever put his hands on you, I’ll go find him right now and beat him senseless.”

“What if I wanted him to?”

He nearly saw red, but he knew he had no right to be angry.  You were a grown adult and he had no ownership over you… he just sort of wished that he did.

“So it’s true then?  You and him…?”

“No, Bucky,” you laughed, “it’s not.  Nothing’s ever happened between us.  I generally don’t get involved with clients like that.”

“Generally?  Is there an exception?”

You chewed your lip, seemingly a little thrown off by his question.  “Uh, I mean, no— I’ve never been involved with a client, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why would you say ‘generally’ then?”

“Uh, I guess I just… I wouldn’t want to rule anything out, that’s all.  Never say never.”

And for a moment he almost wondered if you were flirting with him.  Certainly not, with him having come across as both a jealous hot-head and a bumbling dweeb who pops a boner faster than a randy teenager, but just for a second the way you looked at him was… questionable.

“I mean, who knows,” you continued, “what if, hypothetically, some gorgeous guy walked into my store one night— a sensitive guy, who made me laugh and put up with me rambling about ties for the better part of an hour— and I was supposed to dress him up when all I wanted to do was undress him?”

Your finger started to trail down his chest lightly, tickling his skin through the dress shirt. 

“I wouldn’t want to think he was off-limits just because he’s a customer… right?” you asked quietly, looking up at him and biting your lip.

He was afraid to make the wrong move, but he really really hoped this was flirting.

“I don’t think anyone would object to being dressed or undressed by you,” Bucky responded, hoping he could stay neutral until he was sure what you were talking about.

You chewed your lip, looking away as if you were thinking about something. 

"I know I certainly haven't.  And wouldn't," he added, feeling the need to say something.

You nodded, placing his tie inside his jacket and seeming happy with your work.

“You know, the fit looks great," you announced, "but I’m a little worried that one of the measurements was wrong.  Mind if I do your inseam again?”

His throat was dry all of a sudden, but he responded quickly anyways.  "Uh, go ahead…"

You looked up at him as you started to sink to your knees, very slowly.  That little move looked real good in the mirror behind you.  “Last time I did this, there was something getting in the way, made it difficult to know if I was doing it right…”

"M-my apologies," he whispered.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," you purred as you slowly began to run your fingers up the side of his leg, keeping searing eye contact until his knees felt a little weak.

When your hand reached the top of his inner thigh, the back of it brushed against his balls and he shivered.  Delicately, and so excruciatingly slowly, your hand moved higher and gently rubbed his erection through the fabric.  

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

It must have been all the anticipation that made it so intense, made shivers run up his spine every time your hand moved over his length, made his toes curl inside the ridiculously fancy shoes you’d put him in.

“I’m gonna take it out now, okay?  I promise I won’t measure you here,” you winked.

"You can if you want," he shrugged, deciding now was the time for feigned confidence if there ever was one.  “I mean, if you’re worried about fit…”

You bit your lip, and he was proud to see the effect his words had on you.  “I’ll be honest, I am a little worried it won’t fit…”  You were quick with his belt, but slow with his button and fly, apparently having more fun teasing him.  “Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned softly as you took his cock out.

“Don’t look so excited, doll, you’ll give me an ego,” he purred.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, “looks delicious.”

You licked a long wet stripe up from the bottom all the way to the tip, making a show of licking up the bead of pre-cum before taking his head into your mouth, and Bucky blinked a few times to be sure that this was actually happening.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," you admitted, grinning as you stroked him right beside your face, which only helped to illustrate how big he was compared to you.

"Dirty girl," he praised with a smirk.  

Flirting, he wasn’t so good at.  Conversation in any form typically stressed him out.  But this?  This he was still pretty good at.  And he’d never wanted it so bad before.

When you took him in your mouth again, you didn’t stop until you started to gag; he couldn’t stop himself from moaning through his teeth when you did it.

"Look up at me, princess," he instructed softly, grinning when you obeyed quickly.  "Now look over there at that mirror.  Look how good you look on your knees for me, choking on my cock."

You moaned around him when you made eye contact with your own reflection, and it felt so fucking good he almost lost it right then and there. He held your jaw, almost too tightly, and guided you as your head bobbed on his length.  Your mouth was so warm he thought he would burn up— and it only got warmer the deeper he managed to get.  God, he was so ready to pump his load right into your throat, but he wanted to do so much more to you first.  

In one quick motion, he pushed you off of his cock, pulled you up to face him, and flipped you around, holding you to his chest with the metal arm and letting the flesh one start rubbing your thigh.  This way, both of you were looking at the mirror in front of you, and he loved watching you gasp and moan as you felt and watched his fingers move higher and higher.

“I think it’s time to find out if you really are ‘full-service’,” he purred right against your ear, making searing eye contact with you in the reflection.  “You’ve seen so much of me, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of you yet.  Been daydreaming about what you could be hiding under these tight little skirts.”

As he pulled up the plaid-patterned fabric, he saw that you were wearing white, lacy panties and he groaned deeply.  

“What are you wearing these for?” he teased, rubbing along the edge but never getting where you wanted— and he knew you were getting desperate, because your hips were starting to buck up into his hand.  “Were you expecting something would happen today, sweetheart?”

“I— I was hopeful,” you stammered; instantly, he slapped you right on your barely-covered pussy, just hard enough to make you yelp and squirm in his grasp.  

“You’re so shameless,” he chuckled darkly, “and I love it.  I just hope this isn’t your usual routine— acting all innocent and batting your eyes so your clients will fuck you.”

“No, I swear, it’s just you, Bucky,” you whimpered, “there’s nobody else, please…”

“Please what?  Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to… to touch me more,” you whispered, as if it was a secret and not patently obvious.

He slipped two fingers underneath the thin fabric, finding your clit right away (not difficult at all with how swollen it was) and rubbing it in gentle circles.

“Oh god,” you sighed, “Bucky…”

WIth his hand on your hips, it wasn’t hard at all to push you back into him so he could rub his aching cock against you.  

"What material is this skirt made of?" 

"It's a silk blend," you answered breathlessly, "about 30% cotton."

"It's soft," he purred before yanking your skirt up higher and pressing his cock against your ass instead, "but not as soft as you."

Next to go was your blouse, which he tore open to the sound of buttons flying every direction and bouncing off of the mirrors and floors.

"Bucky!" you yelped, but he could see your nipples harden through the lacy white bra.  If there was any doubt that you had intended to seduce him today, the matching undergarments dispelled it.

After teasing your nipples between his fingers for a moment, he reached back down between your legs— and when his fingers slipped through your folds and moved down to your opening, he actually moaned just from how wet you are.

"Fucking hell," he growled, "you are drenched, princess.  You liked sucking me off that much?"

"Not just that," you clarified, "you look really good in my suits."

He gave you a toothy smile in the mirror, using it to nibble on your ear a bit.  "You deserve most of the credit for that," he purred.

"No, no, I don't," you whined, "you'd look sexy in a paper bag, honestly… you turn me on so much, Bucky."

“Did you… think about me?  After I left your shop the other night?” he asked playfully, already foreseeing your answer from the way your thighs clenched and your lips let out the subtlest gasp.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re smart enough to know I want you to be more specific than that,” he chuckled.

“I thought about you that night… after I got into bed…” you elaborated slowly, clearly distracted by the way he was moving his fingers: delicately, but with obvious intentionality.  “I thought about what it would’ve been like if you had grabbed me and kissed me, shoved me against the wall, fucked me right there on my desk… in front of the glass wall, where anyone could’ve walked by and seen you claim me…”

His cock was throbbing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the image itself or from the knowledge that you’d been fantasizing about it.  “Were you touching yourself?” he growled.

“Yes,” you sighed, your thighs starting to visibly shake, your knees bending towards each other in the mirror.

“Show me how,” he demanded.  “Show me exactly how you were playing with your needy little pussy while you thought about me.”

Your hand found its place on top of his, your fingers starting to move his to the specific place, guiding his movements to be faster and rougher.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, “you don’t like to tease yourself, do you?  You like to jump right into it, come as many times as you can and rub yourself raw in the process?”

You nodded feverishly, panting and whining and writhing in his grasp.

“You’re so desperate, honey… such a shameless cockwhore for me.”

“For you,” you repeated through your trance, “Bucky, ‘m close… keep touching me, please…”

He kept his thumb on your clit but gently slid one finger inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation (if for different reasons).

“So tight,” he hissed, already pulling it back out, “fuck, and just for one finger…”

“More, please,” you begged mindlessly.

“More?  Sure you can take it?”

You bit down on your lip as you nodded, and he pushed a second finger in beside his first.  He felt you struggling with it, both in your walls and in the way you winced a little, but you softly begged him to keep going so of course he couldn’t stop.  You adjusted quickly, your wetness starting to run down his hand.  

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, “now, please, can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he encouraged, “and you will, cause I need to taste you first.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he flipped you around again, finally kissing you the way he’d been dreaming of since he first saw you.  It was intense but not too dominating— in spite of everything.  It was a romantic sort of kiss, maybe too romantic for the situation (that being his cock out and hard and pressed against you, and his fingers covered in your arousal) but perfect nonetheless.

“That’s not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to taste me,” you giggled when he pulled away.

“No, I meant it the other way,” he smiled, “I just wanted to do that first.”  

He picked you up suddenly, making you gasp a bit, but knelt down to lay you on the floor pretty soon after.  You looked up at him with wide eyes as he lifted your leg and kissed his way up.  He could smell your need, and he worried it would drive him wild before he reached his destination.

Pulling your soaked panties aside, he realized he could probably come just from looking at you.  “Such a gorgeous pussy,” he growled his praise, leaning down to plant a few more teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs.  Finally, he started with one long lick, just like you had with him, but you weren’t so patient to tolerate it.  Nearly instantly your fingers pulled his hair, clearly trying to guide him to tease you less, but he couldn’t be swayed to go easy on you.

“I hope you’re not forgetting who’s in charge,” he smiled hungrily.

“And what if I am?” you returned, clearly looking to get on his nerves so he’d get rough with you.  He was happy to oblige.

Bucky sat up and loosened his tie, slipping it off of his neck with a smirk.  "Now, this is 100% Venetian silk, so it should feel nice around your wrists," he cooed.  You offered your hands willingly, and he got a chance to show off a few complex knots of his own.  "Now be a good girl and keep those hands above your head, alright?"

You did as he asked, freeing him to hold your legs open as he devoured you, alternating between teasing your bud with the tip of his tongue, and fucking you with it.  

"You taste like heaven, doll," he growled when he came up quickly, "and the way you moan when my tongue's inside you?  I swear I could die happy right now."

"I wish you wouldn't though," you whimpered.

He laughed a bit before he got back to it, letting his tongue focus on your clit while he filled you with his fingers again.  Your walls clenched down on him occasionally, and when it became more frequent just as your moans became louder, he knew you were close.

"Stop, stop," you sighed suddenly, pushing him away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nervous he'd done something wrong.  

"No I'm fine, I just… I don't want to come yet.  I want you inside me first."

"And what about what I want, hm?  What if I want to watch you come just from my tongue?" he offered instead, though he was definitely still very persuadable in this regard.

"I know you wanna fuck me, Bucky, don't make me wait any longer,” you moaned, your back arching up a little from the floor.

Not needing to be told twice, he flipped you onto your elbows and knees, making sure you could support yourself with bound wrists before letting you go.  His hands running over your exposed ass and thighs made you shiver, and he smiled down at you.  At this point, he was probably more desperate than you were, but he was doing a much better job of hiding it, even taking the time to reach up and undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, because wow suits are warm and not meant for his level of physical activity.

Still, he figured he had waited long enough— he needed to fuck you while he still had at least a shred of patience left.  He was going to need it if he was going to give you time to adjust to him.

Holding his cock and rubbing it through your folds, he chuckled when you whined and dropped your head down in a pout.  He loved watching your expression shift into a gasp as he pushed in.

He went slow, but he didn't stop either.  He wanted to test you just a little.  He wanted to stretch you open.

"Fuck," you cried, "god, you're so… you feel so…"

"Look in the mirror," he instructed coldly, although the coldness was just a front for the way he was holding himself back as your body swallowed him so beautifully.

You moaned again, higher-pitched and weak, just as he finally got all the way in.  He waited until he felt your body relax a bit before he asked if it was okay for him to move yet.  You answered with a quick nod, a breathy "please," and he didn't need any more encouragement.

It was probably too fast to start off with, but god, he'd been waiting so long to fuck you like this.

"Baby," he whispered, "you're so perfect."

He held you steady and thrusted deep, so deep that it made you gasp each time.  You looked incredible, and you felt incredible, but the way you sounded was just… divine.  He could never have imagined the beautiful way you would sound when he was bringing you pleasure like this.  Having heard it, he wanted to make you sound like this as often as possible from now on.  Technically he couldn’t even be sure he’d get another chance to, but surely sounds this perfect meant you had to be having a good time, right?  Ideally a good enough time to call him again?

He was snapped back to focus when he saw your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"Don't look away from that mirror, honey," he growled, "don't close your eyes.  Look how pretty you look like this."

He could tell you loved it from the way your channel fluttered and flexed.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, princess?"

"Yes," you sobbed as he grabbed your hips harder, hoping to leave a bruise, "it feels so good, Bucky, please don't stop!"

"I won't stop, pretty girl.  Not until you cream on my cock," he grunted. 

"Fuck, I'm close," you whined, "Bucky, I'm gonna come— oh god right there!"

And he was sure it couldn’t be fake from the way your body tightened and released so many times, the way you quivered and your breathing seemed to stop for a moment.  Even though he could barely take it, he kept fucking you through it until you were shaking so violently that he worried about your health.

“You feel so goddamn good when you come, princess,” he moaned softly.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

You laughed a little, sounding exhausted, but as he kept fucking you he could feel how sensitive you had become.  When he reached down to push your skirt back up to your waist after it had started to fall down a bit, he felt his own movements in your gut and it took so much not to lose his cool in that moment.  Instead, he pulled your upper body into his so that you could see in the mirror the way your lower stomach was bulging a bit each time he pushed in all the way.

"F-fuck, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Anybody ever been that deep inside you before?"

"No, not even close," you moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently, kissing up and down your neck slowly to match his lazy, teasing thrusts.

"A little," you admitted, "but it feels good.  Don't stop."

He wasn’t so brutal with his thrusts, still deep but with a patient, measured pace.  It staved off his orgasm a bit longer, and it made you moan all slow and throaty which was not better or worse than the needy, high-pitched moans, but enjoyably different.  You didn’t sound as desperate anymore (probably because you’d already come), instead seeming relaxed and calm— if still arching your back and biting your lip nonetheless.

"I wanna come inside you," he whispered right against your ear; he could feel the way you shivered as a result.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Is that what you want?  Wanna be full of my come?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, please Bucky I need it so bad!"

"Fuck, gonna fill you up so good, doll," he promised gruffly.  "Want me to make you mine, beautiful?"

He knew it was a risky thing to say, but his risks had paid off so far, and he wasn't in his most cautious mood.

"Already yours, Bucky," you sighed, "I'm yours, please come in me…"

It hit him suddenly when you said that, and harder than he expected.  He hadn't come like that in… he hadn't come like that ever.  He preferred not to think about the sudden, wavering moan he let out in that moment because he wondered if it sounded unsexy, but thankfully his mind was distracted by the overwhelming sensation of his softening, sensitive cock still within you.

He managed to maneuver you in the way he needed as he pulled out, leaning you back into him and holding your legs open to the mirror in front of you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he instructed, his whisper a little labored as he was still catching his breath, “watch my come leak outta your pussy."

You seemed to be in awe of it, despite it being the obvious outcome of what had just happened.  To be fair, he was in awe of it in a sense, too; a thick, slow stream of sticky white come dripping down from your swollen hole and onto the floor… it was mesmerizing.

Your body was limp in his arms as he finally allowed you to rest, your eyes falling shut as you melted into his embrace.  He took a moment to untie your wrists, tossing the garment aside with an exhausted sigh.  “Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily, apparently just to say his name.

“Was that… sort of what you were hoping for today?” he asked softly, kissing your temple.

“And more,” you giggled.  “Oh my god, I… I don’t even know how to describe that… you’re so… fuck, I don’t know, my brain is totally jelly right now.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He smiled, admiring your vacant-yet-pleased expression and feeling satisfied with his work.  You turned over to lay your head on his chest, and he gladly draped his arms around you in response.  Holding you like this felt so purely right, in a way so few things did to him.  Funny enough, even just having fucked you on the floor and already holding you afterwards right now, he felt nervous again that he would say something wrong.  You were a modern woman, after all, and maybe this was this ‘hook-up culture’ he kept hearing about.

“Was that true what you said, doll?” he asked gently, feeling you stir a little and slide a leg up to rest over his.  “Did you mean it when you said that you were mine?  Or was it just, you know, the heat of the moment…?”

You smiled a little, looking kind of embarrassed.  “Um, yeah, I meant that… I’m yours, if you want me to be.”

He didn’t feel as guilty for feeling so possessive over you now.  Clearly it was appreciated, in the right context.  And he was now at least 75% sure that this wasn’t a hook-up.  “Well, I’m yours, too,” he replied with a soft laugh, “whether you want me or not.”

“I want you,” you confirmed.

You laid in silence together for some unknowable amount of time, but it was a purely unawkward silence.  A peaceful silence, and one filled with possibilities, but not uncomfortable.  Maybe it was uncomfortable in the sense that the carpet, while still being very plushy and expensive, was still the floor and not as forgiving as a bed… but it was completely worth it.

Part of him feared to ruin the moment by speaking, but much more of him feared that you would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t say something.  "This may be the wrong time to ask this— or maybe just the wrong order to do this stuff in— but I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner sometime."

You laughed, but cuddled deeper into his chest.  "Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"I just hope I'll find something nice to wear," he grinned.

[yoontaethings]

normal kind of love — jjk (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader 

rating: explicit

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a lot of cussing and some teasing if you squint, but other than that none really (the warnings will come next chapter lmao)

you’re one half of hollywood’s on-screen it couple. the greatest chemistry known on-screen with the one and only, jeon jungkook, the bane of your existence.

a/n: this was supposed to be a longer chapter but i decided to split it in half to tease potential readers mwahaha btw this chapter is very very unedited, though i did postpone the upload because i had to remove some parts because i just thought the story didn’t need those bits anymore lol but the rest of this story i haven’t even read through yet, i just wrote and wrote and wrote so please excuse any errors (my tenses might also not be consistent but i’ll edit this soon)

taglist: @min-nicoleee @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @kokoandkookie @somelazysundays

There was no way.

There was no way in hell they were pairing you up with him. Again.

You were confirmed to be cast as the female lead in the movie before any other characters were casted. They should have chosen a different male lead for this romance film. Heck, even Kim Taehyung, a friend of yours, received an offer for the role and you were certain he planned to take it. Unfortunately for you, even if Taehyung wanted the role, he couldn’t accept it because of scheduling conflict with another film he’s already working on.

Jeon Jungkook, an actor you starred alongside in “Dangerous Illusion”, was just confirmed as the male lead of your upcoming movie “Chosen for Pleasure”. The same man who seemed to make it his life goal to ruin you. After Jungkook was confirmed to play the male lead in your upcoming movie, fans on Twitter have been blowing up about it and made you two a trending topic worldwide. Elated fans mentioned you in their tweets expressing how happy they were to see you two again together. You wish you could say you felt the same.

The previous movie you worked on was a thriller/mystery. You played the part of Jungkook's wife in the film. The film was a blockbuster hit, as a result of the well-thought storyline, yet additionally because of its leads. Fans adored the chemistry between you and Jungkook, regardless of not having a lot of romantic scenes in the film. There were a lot of fans who wanted to see you two on-screen once more, this time, in a romance focused film. Looks like their wishes were coming true.

To add insult to injury, your impending film was going to be an adult romance. It required some steamy scenes that normally didn't trouble you because you were a true professional, yet absolutely irritates you now since you need to do them with Jeon Jungkook.

The script reading was to be done today and your eyes opened an hour later than the time you set for your alarm because of the fucking snooze button. Seriously, why were snooze buttons even invented? They just allowed people to sleep through their alarms continuously.

Hand reaching for the phone on your nightstand, you knocked over a booklet that was over it. It was the script you spent hours reading to grab a sense of the character you were going to portray. Obviously, you already knew the basics about the part you were going to play, but knowing the entire story helped in portraying your character.

Your eyes squinted at the bright light of your phone that had the numbers 8:33 glaring at you, unlocking it to see a couple of texts and missed calls from your manager.

‘Are you awake yet?’

‘Please don’t tell me you forgot about the script reading today’

‘Ok I know you’re still asleep but just make sure you get ready on time, being late won’t do you and your image any favors’

‘I’ll pick you up at 9’

You rolled your eyes at his messages. You loved Hoseok and he was the best manager you could have been given from your agency, but he nagged too much. He was also your friend and his endless nags made you want to rip your eyeballs out sometimes because even when you’re supposed to unwind with him, he never forgets to remind you of your job.

‘I’m the fucking lead, Hobi, they’ll wait for me’

You slapped your phone back onto the nightstand and started going about with your morning routine. You didn’t have a lot of time, and even though you knew they would definitely wait for you, you hated being that bitch who made people wait so you took a quick shower and slapped on some sunscreen, powder, and finishing off with your go-to lipstick. You didn’t bother with makeup and dressing up. This was just going to be a script reading and sure, there were going to be photos taken but the thousands of dollars you’ve spent on facials and treatments already made sure your face was at least flawless despite the lack of effort.

Bringing only your phone, wallet and script, you exited your building and as usual, a shiny black van already awaited outside. Hoseok was leaning on it, scrolling through his phone when he sensed your presence and looked up.

“Oh, thank god you’re on time.” He exhaled in relief, pocketing his phone.

“I value sleep but you’re well aware I also value my career.”

Hoseok grinned. “Now there’s the y/n I know.” He then slid the van door open and you entered without another word.

The drive was pretty much uneventful, with you scrolling through your social media, seeing what fans have been tweeting about recently and with Hoseok humming along to the random pop music playing.

You longed for a distraction, something much more interesting than working your thumb throughout the drive because of the chasm that you were about to jump into when you arrived on set. You weren’t stupid enough to forget about the man who got the role of your romantic interest in the film. But you were wise enough to not let it haunt you for the past weeks. Now though, you can’t really avoid it anymore since you were supposed to be seeing him in person again after almost 2 years. You didn’t exactly leave on the best terms with Jungkook but who knows, maybe you’ll be able to act civil around each other.

At least you were sure you were going to act civil around him, already decided on taking the higher path. You’re not so sure about him, but fingers crossed he’ll at least be an adult about the situation and pretend he can stand being in the same room as you.

Soon enough, you were entering the room the script reading was to be held in. Bowing and greeting the actors and staff seated around the table as you passed by to get to the last vacant seat. You caught Jungkook’s eyes following your movements as you sat down. Luckily, he was seated across from you and it was easier to ignore his presence with the staff members greeting and coddling you.

As always, script reading began with actors introducing themselves and the role they’re going to play. As the female lead, you started off.

“Hello everyone. I’m y/n y/l/n and I’m going to take on the role of Yuri.” Hands clapped around you as you sat back down.

“Hello, I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’ll be playing Ryan.”

You didn’t bother clapping unlike the rest and avoided the eyes of the voice’s origin.

The script reading continued without a hitch– for the most part. The other cast members were very friendly, and laughter was exchanged during the read. The same couldn’t be said for you and Jungkook though.

When lines between your characters were exchanged, there was a weird tension in the room. It felt like everyone else were holding their breaths and waiting for either of you two explode and announce that you can’t do this film anymore. As dramatic as that would be, none of that happened. Instead, cheesy romantic lines sounded flat and bored from both you and Jungkook. The director made a tsk-ing sound whenever that happened.

“It’s always been you.” You read. The script said that Yuri and Ryan stared in adoration towards each other before Ryan uttered his next words.

“Marry me?” Jungkook asked.

You nodded your head as a wrap for the script reading. According to the script, there was supposed to be a kissing scene at the end, so you make ridiculous smooching noises. The cast burst into giggles before the director stood from his seat.

“…and that’s a wrap!” He clasped his hands together. “Hopefully when we start shooting things only look up from there.” He flitted his eyes between you and Jungkook.

Honestly, you wish that too but from yours and Jungkook’s history, you don’t really think that’s possible.

You were both professionals though and you’re sure you could at least count on him to make the on-screen romance feel real.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok said with pity in his eyes.

“Wha- but… why?” You asked, confused with what was happening.

Your part in the new film ‘The Notebook: Remake’ has apparently been withdrawn. As one of the rising stars in Hollywood, this was a really great opportunity for you. It’s one of the most anticipated films and accepting the offer of being the female lead in the movie was a no-brainer. Anyone who refuses that role is just stupid.

But now they were apparently taking it back.

Hoseok sighed. “There were too many scandals surrounding you recently. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not, but you’ve been seen in hotels that Jeon Jungkook has been in too, and in everyone’s eyes you’re now secretly seeing him.”

“But we’ve never even been seen together in any of those photos. Don’t people know the word fucking coincidence?” Your brows furrowed, fists clenching at your sides. “And what does this have to do with my role in the film?”

“It seems they wanted someone with a ‘cleaner image’ and someone who’ll get the film to be a hit. Apparently, the romance won't be convincing if the female lead is dating someone in real life.”

You stared at Hoseok. He stared back waiting for a lash out, an angry outburst, anything really, but you remained silent, eyes unmoving. Soon enough, the dam doors burst open and the tears suddenly came streaming down your face. Hoseok exhaled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hobi what did I do so wrong to deserve this?” you sobbed into his chest.

“Shh, it’s not your fault they’re all dumbasses. But you know the industry, y/n. We’ll find better films for you, okay?”

“Why is Jeon Jungkook such a thorn on my side? Why is he always ruining everything for me?”

“We can’t blame him, honey. He’s probably a victim in this too because of those damn rumor outlets.” Hoseok rubbed his hands along your back.

“But I’m getting the short end of the stick! The rumor is probably just feeding his bad boy persona!”

“Life’s unfair, y/n. Surely by now you’re aware of that. Just remember, karma’s going to bite them in the ass someday, okay? For now, do you want to call it a day and go home? I’ll drive you back and I’ll just report to the agency that you’re not feeling well.”

You nod your head, too listless to bother answering with words because there was only one thing on your mind right now.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good looks. He just ruined the best opportunity for you. You were going to get him back for this. Like Hoseok said, karma’s going to bite him in the ass someday. And that karma was going to be you.

You were supposed to be looking forward to filming one of your dream movies with your dream director. But all you felt was dread when you arrived on set. You promised yourself that you’d stay unaffected to Jeon Jungkook, but you couldn’t help the distaste for him to be left on your face while filming.

The scene you were shooting was when your characters first met and the first takes were a total disaster. You and Jungkook barely spared each other a glance, even when your character was supposed to be enticed by him, breaking down Yuri’s cold exterior. A break was called after the 6th take because the director was so frustrated that he looked like he was about to call the casting director and replace his two leads.

You sighed, not knowing what to do with yourself after the announcement of a break. Your feet led you to your dressing room, ready to pass out on the couch but before you could, someone barged in. Your head turned towards the door, expecting it to be your manager or the director or anyone really, just not the person who currently stood at the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Jungkook asked. Your eyes were suddenly drawn to his biceps which bulged from his shirt as he crossed his arms. The damn arms looked delicious. Too bad they belonged to someone you would never ever be attracted to.

“Sure.” You shrugged your shoulders. You were sure he came here to talk to you about filming and how to work out your indifferences and shit like that and honestly, you were so tired of hating him you’re ready to just go along with whatever. Hating someone actually takes a lot of effort, you realize.

Jungkook stepped towards you until he’s close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to look at his eyes. His eyes locked on yours for a moment before his arms uncrossed and one of his hands landed on the wall behind you. He successfully caged you in with no way out. His lips part and your eyes are drawn to the movement, feeling his exhales on your nose. You swallowed nervously.

Good lord his breath smelled so good.

“Babe, I’m sure you’re just as thrilled as I am to be working with you again as you are with me, but let’s not mess this up okay? Let’s get this over with perfectly and quickly so we don’t have to deal with each other again after. Deal?” His eyebrows raised in question and you nodded dumbly, unable to form a coherent sentence with how close he was to you.

You felt a sudden rush of heat down there and was mentally cursing the man in front of you for how much he was affecting you. He tilted his head to the side and leaned in closer to your face as if he was about to kiss you then he suddenly stopped, his mouth forming a smirk, taunting you.

That smirk was all it took for you to snap back to reality. No, you were not going to let him take the upper hand here. A burst of confidence surged through you as you leaned closer to him too and allowed your lips to brush lightly against his cheek.

“Deal.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how his lips drooped apparently not expecting that. You looked down and there it was, the tenting of his pants that brought a coy smile to your lips. Ha, take that.

You glanced back up at him, your fingers trailing over his thighs. “Aw, didn’t realize you saw me that way Jeon.” You abruptly pulled away and walked out of the room without another word, leaving him hard and defeated.

This is the beginning of his karma, you thought as you grinned to yourself.

[touyasdoll]

RIP to your pussy I seriously popped off on this fic - 🧚‍♀️

I wish you hadn’t changed clothes. When I invited you over for a slumber party, I hoped it would get rid of my horniness for you. Instead, you bounce out of the shower in the sexiest little outfit I’ve seen in my life.

About halfway through a shitty movie, I rest my hand on your thigh and just leave it there. Hoping you catch the signal. I feel you shift, my hand naturally moving closer to the hem of your little shorts. I move my hand away again.

The character on screen drones on, confessing his love in an over dramatic way to an uninterested actress. My arm winds its way around your waist, fingers brushing the hem of your cami top. I stay like this, waiting for confirmation that you’re okay with it. You grab my hand and move it into your little shorts to rest on your thong.

I brush my fingers over your panties, deliberately avoiding your clit. You open your legs a little wider. I smile, eyes still fixed to the screen. I slide my hand into your panties, resting it on your pussy. I feel you wriggle around, searching for friction. I move my middle finger slowly through your folds and up to your clit, giving it a rub and then gliding down again.

You wiggle again. “You’re so impatient, baby girl.” My face flushes in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

I look at you first, your mouth is open and you’re panting. It’s so hot. I turn your face towards me with the hand not on your cunt.

“You want more baby?” When you nod, I pull my hand out away from your pussy reluctantly. I push on your shoulders to lay you down on the couch. I peel your top and shorts off slowly, making sure the fabric tickles.

“Is all this for me?” You don’t respond, too nervous or excited, I can’t quite tell.

I lavish your breasts with attention, rubbing a nipple with one hand and sucking on the other. I switch sides, making sure each of them get equal attention. “Can’t have them feeling left out.” I kiss down your stomach, making sure to drag my teeth a little too.

I make it to your panties. I yank them down and throw them over my shoulder. I blow gently on your pussy, just to watch you shiver. I grab your hands and push them into my hair. “Hold on tight baby girl.”

I dive in, eating your pussy like a woman starved. Focusing most of my efforts on your clit. I suck, and lick, and flick, listening for what feels the best in your moaning. I throw in a few moans of my own to hear your whines increase.

As you’re ready to cum, we hear keys in the door, and you try to push me away. I laugh and pull you closer. I hold your hips down as much as I can. Your moans are loud as you cum, juices covering the lower part of my face.

Kirishima walks into the room. “Damn, bunny you got started without me.”

I pull back and turn to look at him, your cum coating my lips. He walks closer, kissing me on the lips but keeping his eye on you. He licks his lips, trying to savour your flavour. You try to cover up but I snatch your hands back, placing them on my waist.

“Would you mind if he joins us, pretty girl?” You hesitate.

“You can absolutely say no, kitten.” Your hips swivel at Kiri’s pet name for you and he grins. You nod your consent.

Kiri shakes his head, “Words, kitten.”

“I would love for you to join us.”

I bounce in my seat clapping. “Yay let’s go daddy!” I grab your hands and pull you up. Kiri slaps your ass and mine as I lead you to our bedroom.

“Get her ready for daddy, I’ll be right there.”

“You ever taken a cock in your ass baby girl?” You hesitate again. “I’ll prepare you any way! I just wanted to find out. Oh and are you on birth control?” You nod, and I shriek a little, “Yay, daddy will be so happy!”

“Lay down kitten.” Kiri’s voice appears at the door. When you follow his instructions, he smiles brightly. “Bunny?” I nod and strip as quickly as I can. He holds up a harness ready to help me into it. “You been taken care of yet bunny?”

“No but I figured once we wear our baby girl out you and I can have our fun.” He kisses me again before striding over to you. “Kitten, how are you feeling? You want a safe word or anything?”

“Red, yellow, green.” You confirm.

“Good girl.” He pats your cheek. He spreads your legs while I kneel between them, big purple strap at the ready.

“You ready, baby girl?” I spread some lube on the dildo any way. Kiri’s hands move to play with your tits as I grab the backs of your knees, keeping your legs spread.

I ease myself in slowly, three moans of varying pitches ring out. I ease back out again slowly, and push in, waiting for your call.

“How are you feeling, baby girl?”

“Green, so green!” You cry out.

“You know what that means, bunny.” Kiri smiles, running one hand down your body to rub your clit, and one hand wrapping around your throat. I pick up the speed, pushing your knees higher too so I can go even deeper.

“You take me so good baby girl! Daddy’s gonna love your pussy.”

“I already do kitten.” He takes the hand off your throat and leans down to kiss you, tongue and all. His fingers pick up speed on your pussy.

“You’re gonna tell bunny when you’re cumming right baby girl?” I ask, thrusting in and rolling my hips against yours.

“Yes bunny, I promise.” You look so sweet laid out like this for us. Your eyes are already teary, and your pussy is practically gushing.

I make eye contact with Kiri, who nods and helps you sit up. I turn you over to your hands and knees, thrusting in and picking up right where I left off.

Kiri grabs your throat again, “You wanna suck my cock kitten?”

You moan again and nod emphatically. His teeth somehow look sharper with the way he’s grinning at you. He pulls his bottoms off and sits in front of you. He pulls your head down to his dick. “Take the initiative kitten, I can’t do everything for you.” Your head bobs up and down on his cock, and the beautiful noises you make are giving me a head rush. I lube up a finger and start working on your ass. Your moans give Kiri intense sensations through his dick, and he forces your head down to the base of his cock. He pulls you back up for air, and uses the spit on your face to lube up his finger and rub your little clit again.

“Bunny I’m gonna cum!” You cry, so Kiri and I speed up, hoping to destroy you entirely. I push my finger into your ass and feel it clench as you gush all over my thighs. Kiri removes his hand and holds it out for me to suck on his fingers. I keep thrusting through your orgasms, hoping to keep the pleasure going.

I let you catch your breath a little before pulling out. “Colour, kitten.”

You take your time but respond with “green.”

Kiri pulls you to sit on his lap, his dick tapping your wet cunt deliciously. He wraps your arms around his shoulders, “Hold on tight kitten.”

He gives you no warning, thrusting balls deep into you. You gasp and cry out, “It’s so big.”

“I know baby girl, his dick takes some time getting used to.” He rolls your hips for you a few times, hoping you get the gist. You do thankfully, which gives me some time to finish prepping your ass. I cover the dildo in lube again, and press my finger in to loosen you up a bit. Kiri lays back, taking you with him. I press another lubed finger in and began to thrust in and out. Kiri wraps his giant arms around your torso, pressing your chest against his. He begins to thrust up as I add a third finger, gently prodding and working you through the sting.

I pull out and Kiri pauses, balls deep inside you.

“Bunny you better hurry, her pussy feels so good and I want us to cum together.”

I line up the dildo and push in gently, rubbing your lower back as I go in. Inch by inch your sweet little ass takes it in until I’m deep inside you.

I pause to remind you to breathe and to give me your colour. When you respond with a hoarse “green”, Kiri rolls his hips, and begins to thrust again.

“Move bunny please.” Your voice is desperate.

I laugh, “Look at you baby girl!” I roll my hips too, and try to find a good rhythm with Kiri, he pulls out, I thrust in and vice versa. He brings a hand down to rub your clit, and I rub and pinch your nipples. I can see Kiri start to strain, the beautiful face he normally pulls before he cums.

“She’s on birth control daddy.” I tell him and he responds with a fucked out tone, “Thank you bunny.”

You scream as the orgasm hits you like a brick wall. Kiri groans deep in his throat as he shoots his load into your pussy. I pull out of your ass, watching it clench and release.

When you finally come down from your high, Kiri has wiped down your legs and pussy, and I have a snack and water ready for you.

“We can all take a shower later if you want baby girl.” I offer as I help you take sips of water. “But you can relax and watch us play now if you like.” At your nod, Kiri slaps my ass again and practically tackles me on to the bed.

“Let’s show kitten how loud you can get.”

HDBFHSHAHSHF I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WROTE THIS POUR MOI OMG

it’s like 4 am and I’m still tipsy, trying to sleep but I want you to know that I squealed like a fucking moron several times reading this hadhdhahsv omg please feel free to invite me over to you & kiri’s place anytime

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 6)

Chapter Summary: It’s time for the anticipated party.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings boytoy!Bucky, mention to casual sex, open relationship, someone catching feelings.

A/N: No smut in this one… Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

Bucky takes a sip from the whiskey in his hand and, for a glimpse of a moment, he thinks of the time he would absolutely hate the scenario around him right now, crowded with people of all imaginable sorts, loud chattering and music, dance floors flashing with bright and colorful lights. A party, but not just a party, a Tony Stark Party, filled with all of that and also the best food in the country and even better drinks. He used to loath them, until he freed himself from his own mind restraints and remembered what a party really was: an opportunity to let yourself lose, follow no rules except to have fun and, of course, meet some nice people, especially women – lots of them- to spend time with… in his bed. 

What had never crossed his mind, though, is that would come a day when he would be interested in meeting just one. And he holds his gaze on her right now. She’s there, among the sea of bodies, sipping from her drink while laughing and talking with her friends, Nat and Sharon.

Bucky can’t help the smile forming on his lips at the sight of her having her fun. As she should be…that party is all for her, after all. She looks beautiful, as usual, in a shimmery short dress and heels high enough to make a desert of his mouth. But it’s that loose laugh of hers, when her head falls a bit backwards as her shoulders shake and she puts her hand over her stomach, that makes his heart flutter inside his chest… He doesn’t even notice when his smile turns into a shuddering sigh.

He clears his throat before taking a long taste of his whiskey, hoping the strong liquor down his throat would help to put himself together. This is getting ridiculous… He needs to figure out what this huddle of… strange feelings growing inside him every time he sees or even thinks of her means… He needs to figure that shit out soon. 

“Well, well, well.”

Steve’s voice grasps his attention as his eyes advert from her to meet his friend walking closer to him.

“What’s up, punk?” Bucky doesn’t even know why but he immediately hates that little teasing smile on Steve’s face, he decides to ignore it, though.

“That’s one vision I’m not really used to. Bucky Barnes drinking all alone at a party. Where’s the mini harem that it’s usually seen surrounding you at such events?” Steve asks, not trying to disguise the playful sarcasm in his words.

“Night is only beginning, pal,” Bucky answers, putting on a cocky smile and tapping on Steve’s shoulder, using a bit more strength than usual.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve chuckles, not thoroughly convincedby the excuse, “You know, ever since Nat and I came back from the mission, I’ve been hearing some interesting speculations from some members of the team who stayed here…”

“Do I wanna hear it?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

Steve hums, “The word is out you’re just not the same anymore,” he shrugs and sips from his drink, peeking Bucky from under his eyelashes.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 “They don’t see the usual parade of women coming and going from your apartment. Sam says there’s been one mysterious lady, though… but none of them seem to guess who.” With no hint of subtleness in him and with a teasing smirk on his lips, Steve turns his gaze to her direction across the room.

“Jesus…” Bucky huffs, shaking his head before drinking from his whiskey, “Fucking all mighty Avengers… Don’t you all have a World or two to save instead of gossiping about my private life?”

“Which was never really that private, let us be honest.”  Steve laughs.

Bucky can’t help but to let out a small laugh, too, shrugging at the incontestability of the statement. He was never one to be much discreet about his shenanigans.

“What is that exactly?” Steve insists, nodding his head in her direction, where she still talks animatedly with her friends, “I didn’t know you were, ahm, close friends with Y/n from the tech department.”

“Didn’t you walk in on us the other day?” Bucky puts on a mocking frown at him, “Do you need me to reenact it for you, pal? You know I would have no problem with that, but we’re gonna have to ask her-“

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve cuts him off, his cheeks already showing a shade of pink at the memory, “And don’t you think I didn’t notice that little stunt on movie night, too,” he adds in a chastising way, but the scowl quick breaks into a smile when Bucky laughs, “You know what I’m talking about, you’re Bucky, you love ladies, as in plural, you have loved them ever since you were a kid in the 30’s, I have to admit you’ve always been respectful in your own way, but you were never been a guy to settle for just one for longer than a night or two…” Steve follows Bucky’s gaze, which has automatically navigated towards her. He lets out a knowing hum before speaking again, “But I guess your path just hadn’t crossed with hers, yet…”

Bucky looks back at Steve, whose eyes are gleaming with something like excitement. Bucky doesn’t know exactly how the words sink into him, but he feels like he can’t just disagree, not if he’s going to be completely honest. Never has he felt the need to be with only one woman for that amount of time until… until her.  

“I mean,” Steve continues after no answer from Bucky, “I think it’s great, it was about time for you to find someone-“

 “Don’t go imagining unrealistic scenarios on your romantic little head, Punk. My name is not Steve Rogers to get off on,” a grimace twists Bucky’s face as he speaks, “Love, attachment… or any tacky sort of shit you’re into.”

Steve opens his mouth as if he were to say something, but lets out a frustrated sigh instead, pressing his lips into a taut line.  

“No, seriously, pal,” Bucky continues, in a less snapping tone, “Our, ahm, friendship is based exclusively on what you’ve seen and heard so far,” he smirks, “Sex. She had just gotten out of a long relationship and needed to get off, Nat thought of me - of course -introduced my dick to her pussy, they’ve become best of friends and here we are now,” he holds back a laugh, knowing damn well how the vulgar choice of words would make Steve’s 40’s little brain short-circuit, being the precise reason why he chose to put it that way.  

“Alright, alright, you’re just messing with me now,” Steve seems in a hurry to make his friend stop talking.

Bucky lets out the laugh he was holding and punches his friend’s shoulder, gaining a dirty look in response before resuming, “I mean… It’s nothing like you’re insinuating, she’s great and we’ve been having fun, that’s all,” Bucky adds as his gaze falls upon her again. Yeah… she’s great. And beautiful, sexy, funny, smart, kind- clearing his throat to dismiss his own betraying line of thoughts, he turns back to his friend.

“If you say so.” A small smile curls Steve’s lips, showing he’s anything but convinced. 

Goddammit, he does have a lot to figure out.  

~~~

“I knew something was up, Bucky never stays for movie nights.” Tears fill Sharon’s eyes from how hard she’s been laughing.

“I felt like a horny teenager in my parents’ home,” you resume the story you’ve been entertaining Sharon and Nat with, “Not that my teen years were that exciting,” you add with a grimace, “Far from it exactly, I was a tech nerd since I was eight, not really something that rocks teen boys’ worlds.” Bucky seems to really dig it, though, is the immediate thought that pops into your mind, but you see no reason why you should say it out loud.

“Well, it did bring you far enough,” Nat winks at you, moving her glass around the party being held to celebrate you to emphasize her point.

“Damn right,” Sharon agrees, raising her glass, which you and Nat quickly follow in a cheerful toast.

You can’t shake the smile of your lips. You wouldn’t go as far as to connect the events, but after your breakup with Eddie, it seems like you’re living another life. A new and more exciting life, both personally and professionally… That’s why it shouldn’t bother you so much that you still haven’t seen him. He said he would be there after you called to tell the news and invite him to come. But it does bother you to casually look around the party and not spotting him…

“So, it’s been like a month since this deal of yours started, right?” Nat asks, catching your attention after gulping from her customary vodka.

“Yeah,” your eyebrows furrow as you nod, “Sounds about right… and what a month, holy shitballs…” You round your eyes, letting out a puff.

“Care to share more details?” Sharon asks, wiggling her eyebrows.  

“Well…” You quickly survey the area around you and sneakily lean closer to them as they mimic you, “I had no idea what my body could do, I mean, I’ve been in positions I’ve never thought were humanly possible to perform, there’s not a day I don’t feel sore on every little inch of me, it’s a constant state by now,” you add, and the grin on your face tells how little the soreness really bothers you.

“Super soldiers…” Sharon smirks and winks before clinking her glass of champagne with yours.  

As Nat chuckles, you let out a giggle, “Yeah, I mean, my poor pussy hasn’t seen that much action her entire life.”

Nat’s jaw drops as she scoffs and turns to Sharon, “Check this out… this woman wouldn’t even say the word “sex” without choking before,” she points at you and you shrug, keeping the smile on your face. 

“That’s the Barnes effect,” Sharon comments, before turning to you, ”But wait a minute, how often you two have been keeping this encounters up?”

You take a second to think about it before answering, “Almost daily, I guess. When I don’t call him, he ends up calling me and so we go.”

“Really?” Nat asks and when you give her the confirmation, her brows snap together as a wondering “huh” slips out of her lips.   

She seems surprised by the fact you’re seeing Bucky practically every day, but you think nothing of it, “I’m sending you a whole box of this vodka you like so much, by the way.” You point at her glass, “You deserve it. I was just waiting for you to come back from that long ass mission of yours.”

He expression shifts to an amused one, “Oh, well, cheers to that,” she says before gulping down the rest of the liquid in her glass.  

“But let me ask you something,” Sharon cuts in, “You’ve been seeing him almost daily, having amazing sex with the Adonis we all have to agree Bucky is…” she looks at Natasha for support, who just nonchalantly shrugs her agreement, before turning back to you, “Don’t you think it can become a bit complicated? In the feelings area, I mean, Bucky can be pretty charming, but when it comes to commitment, well-” She tilts her head as a hint of concern is present on her voice.

Nat too focuses on you, interested in what you have as an answer.

You snort and waves dismissively at their concern, “No way. Don’t worry, you two. Neither of us are looking for such a thing. It is what it is: just sex. Bucky is amazing, I don’t think I would be able to have that sort of relationship with anyone other than him. He’s so relaxed and laid back, no games… he’s pretty clear with his intentions, which is no romance at all and that’s exactly what I need right now. We both want the exact same thing, that’s pretty clear ever since we set this deal and it’s not going to change,” you say with tranquility and firmness in your words.

“Are you sure?” Nat insists, giving you that look you know it’s all about her making sure you’re ok. “This whole idea came from me but I know Bucky for a long time, I know he’s not one to do feelings, but I’ve been worried about how you would take it.”

“Absolutely…” you guarantee “And to be honest, I know I need to work on it, I do, but when I think about a relationship, I mean, a conventional relationship, I still think of Eddie… I feel like I’m still too caught up on him to think of anyone else that way,” You shrug, pressing your lips in a line, “Bucky’s being really important to help me get through it all, though, I have to admit it.”

“Well… I’m glad.” Nat gives you a sympathetic smile, brushing a hand on your arm.

“Alright… I guess you have a boytoy, then, huh?” Sharon teases.

You laugh, before conceding with a nod, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Nat says in a quiet mumble and nods to behind your shoulder.  

Before you have the chance to turn around you hear his voice. That deep and raspy voice that usually makes your skin burn and tonight is no different, “Well, well, if it isn’t the power trio… Am I the devil by any chance?” Bucky steps beside you, narrowing his eyes at Natasha, before shooting you that captivating smile of his, the one that prompts a smile of yours to swiftly twist your lips too, “Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you answer, seizing the moment to take him over. He looks absolutely ravishing with his styled fluff hair, light scruff shadowing his jaw and beautiful eyes stuck on you, wearing an untied blue suit over a casual white t-shirt that not every man could make it work. Sharon was damn right, Bucky really is charming… too charming for his own good.

“So, talking about me, ladies?” He insists, tilting his head and focusing a piercing gaze on you, despite addressing  all three.  

There’s something about him… you just can’t stop smiling at his presence and, even worse, don’t seem to be able to tell a lie, not even an innocent one to save your ass, so you decide to take a sip of your champagne and leave it to your friends to answer the question. You guess boytoy can’t be worse than “human dildo”, like you called him before, but that has been just between you two...

“Yeah, yeah,” Sharon is the one to step in, holding back a laugh just like you, as Natasha, ever a pro, sustains a perfect poker face, “I haven’t seen Steve, yet and I was wondering if he would be with you.”

If you’ve seen a flicker of disappointment in his eyes it quickly vanishes as he turns to Sharon, “Oh, yeah, he was. Look, there he is by the bar,” Bucky points, “And you might wanna check the amount of Asgardian Liquor is being sneaked to him, the guy is already talking nonsense.”

“Oooo, Asgardian Liquor Steve is the best, I give twenty minutes before he starts summoning Mjölnir from wherever Thor is now,” Sharon’s face twinkles with excitement, “See you guys later,” she adds before rushing towards the bar and her boyfriend.

As a girl from the staff comes along and refills Nat’s glass with her special vodka, Bucky looks back at you. You smile at him but soon frowns a bit. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you and you can’t just pinpoint what it is. There’s always sheer hunger in his gazes for you that makes your spine tremble, but tonight… there’s something a bit more… introspective in it, maybe?

“So, enjoying your night?” he asks.

You brush your thoughts away to answer, “Oh, shit, yeah… This is unbelievable. I was never one to party that much, but I could get used to this.” You sign with your glass around, still marveled by the over the top event being held in your name. “Tony is out of this world.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s true, though,” Natasha comments with an exaggerated eye roll.

You chuckle before a sight behind Bucky’s shoulders catches your eye.

“Hey, I-“ Bucky starts.

“He’s here,” cutting out whatever Bucky was gonna say to you, your voice comes out in a gasp as your hands run cold and your heart races.

“Who? Tony?” Bucky asks with a grin, turning his face towards the direction you’re staring at with startled eyes.  

“Eddie,” Nat is the one who answers, pointing at the man standing alone by the entrance, seeming a little lost as he glances around.

Not you nor Natasha sees when the smile on Bucky’s face falls. When he looks back around, though, he already has a lighthearted expression put on for you.

“I should go talk to him, right?” You check, shifting looks from him to Nat. As she just shrugs, curling the corner of her lips down - and by that, expressing exactly what she thinks -  you appeal to Bucky, focusing pleading eyes on him. Deep down, you know what you wanna do, but for some reason, just needs someone to back you up. 

“Yeah-“ he clears his throat, “I mean, you invited him, haven’t you?” He tightens his lips at an attempt of a smile.

“You’re right.” You nod, biting your lips nervously and looking straight ahead,  “See you guys later.” You wave, after taking one or two deep breaths.

Your shoulder brushes against Bucky as you walk past him and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.   

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse reminds him she’s still right there and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to seeing on her face.

He lets out a deep breath, “What?” 

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in a state of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried about the wrong person.”

~~~

To be continued.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

You infected my brain with hatter stuff

You will be hearing from my attorneys

And by attorneys, I mean random thoughts that pop in my head

Good day!

That’s it, you’re getting

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hatter Has Definitely Kissed Every Executive At Least Once And This Is How It Went:  Niragi Edition

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Rating: PG-13

Tags: violence, language, death threats, dubious consent (tagging that just to be safe), creative problem solving

Summary: Violence isn’t always the answer, but it’s usually some part of the equation (at least, it is in the Borderlands…)

“Ah, Mori, so nice of you to—“

“Shut the fuck up!”

There is an old adage—timing is everything in life—and that sentiment is truer today than ever before.

At least, it is for Aguni.

He has managed to show up in the meeting room just in time to witness Niragi holding a very loaded rifle right below Takeru’s jaw. The energy in the room hums tense and hot; one strike of a match and the whole place might explode.

“Put the gun down,” Aguni growls, mood shifting from ‘mildly annoyed’ to ‘enraged concern,’ “or I’ll snap your goddamn spine—“

“Now, now, there’s no need for all of that,” Takeru placates, “Our friend Niragi is just expressing himself.”

“I’m gonna express your brains all over the fucking wall if you don’t stop fucking talking,”

“Such a vivid description,” Takeru muses, cocking his head to one side and eyeing Niragi curiously, “is there something about the sight of blood that you find exciting? Not necessarily in a sexual way; although it’s perfectly fine if that’s the case—“

“Stop playing with him,” Aguni interrupts with an exasperated roll of his eyes. He turns his attention to Niragi and points an accusatory finger directly at his chest.

“And you,” Aguni seethes, “you’ve got until the count of three to put the gun down and step away before I snap your neck—“

“You will do no such thing,” Takeru gently chides, giving a soft smile, “I have everything under control.”

“Yeah,” Niragi taunts, sneering at Aguni, “this is none of your fucking business.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Aguni grumbles, clenching his fists at his sides and clenching his jaw. He’s just about to storm his way over and wrestle the gun from Niragi’s devious grip when Takeru holds up his hand in a bid to stop his approach.

“Do you remember our last trip to Sendai,” Takeru asks, furrowing his brow as he tries to remember the details, “it’s been…oh, a good five years since then. Maybe six, I can’t quite recall at the moment.”

“The fuck you talking about?”

“We stayed at that lovey little inn, just outside the city center,” Takeru reminisces, paying no mind to his confused assailant’s question, “we were lucky enough to catch the autumn leaves just before they began to fall. Magical experience, I so hope to go back some day…”

“Pretty sure the yakuza won’t let you back in,” Aguni adds, “barely got away as is.”

“But I did get away,” Takeru reminds him, sounding very pleased with himself, “And, if you can recall, I used a rather effective method of escape.”

“Whatever you did for those clowns won’t fucking work on me,” Niragi insists, pressing the barrel of the gun even harder against Takeru’s skin.

“I’m not so sure,” Takeru hums, “you seem like the type of man who’d be receptive to a…softer approach.”

To illustrate his point, Takeru puckers his lips and releases them with a an audible ‘pop’—an imitation of a kiss, complete with a cheeky wink thrown in at the end.

Niragi looks horrified.

“Did he,” Niragi asks, voice scratched thin as if on the verge of a screech, “fucking…make out with the goddamn yakuza?”

“Yes,” Aguni confirms solemnly, “yes, he did.”

“And it worked! Splendidly, too, I might add,” Takeru exclaims excitedly, “Almost as magical as the changing trees.”

“Takeru,” Aguni grits, “that’s not gonna work here…”

“You’re goddamn right it’s not,” Niragi spits, eyes narrowing into two knife-sharp slits, “ugly-ass motherfucker like you couldn’t even make me blink twice.”

“You’re a man who knows what he likes. I appreciate that,” Takeru says coolly, letting his gaze slip over the gun-wielding maniac in front of him, “just like I appreciate the occasional wager. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in that sort of thing, would you?”

“Takeru,” Aguni hisses, “he’s got you at gunpoint—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Niragi jabs in Aguni’s direction, before turning his attention to Takeru once more, “Gimme your terms. I wanna hear what kind of stupid-ass ideas you got.”

Takeru smirks.

“Nothing too complicated. You let me kiss you,” he explains, “and, if I don’t have you falling to your knees by the time I’m done, you can shoot me as many times as you like. I’ll even have Mori here give you his pocket knife so you can do some slicing, if you like. Could get some really unique blood spatters on the rug that way, like a Jackson Pollock.”

Takeru’s smirk tightens as Niragi imagines the scenario—no doubt in gory, brilliant technicolor, with all the drama and carnage a young man of his macabre inclinations could possibly dream of.

“Of course,” Takeru adds, “if I do manage to succeed, you let me go. No penalties, no petty revenge; we walk out of here as friendly as ever, and none shall be the wiser.”

Niragi snorts.

“Un-fucking-likely. But you know what? I’m feeling fucking generous.”

Niragi lowers the gun a smidge—just enough to allow Takeru some head movement—and shoots him a chilling smile.

“Give it your best shot, old man,” he says, “unless you’re too much of a fucking pussy…”

“I assure you, darling, that I most certainly am not,” Takeru replies.

He brings a hand up to Niragi’s face and very gently pushes a loose strand of hair behind his ear—a gesture which earns him a confused frown and furrowed, pierced brow.

“For fuck’s sake,” Aguni mumbles from the sidelines, watching as Takeru’s hand snakes around the nape of Niragi’s neck and cradles it like he would with any other lover, “are you seriously gonna—“

And, yes; apparently Takeru is ‘seriously gonna’ because he does. His opposite hand has wrapped around Niragi’s waist and pulls him sharply towards himself. The hand at Niragi’s nape performs a similar, albeit more tender, motion, guiding Niragi to kiss him fully and passionately on the mouth.

Niragi closes his eyes—whether instinctually or from the reluctant pleasure of being kissed by a man he had until this point considered his enemy, he can’t be sure. All he does is feel, letting Takeru slip his clever tongue between his lips and trying not to groan at the flush of heat flaring in his face.

A swift jab to his right kidney has him yelping out in pain, while a firm stomp to his foot has his knees buckling and his throat screeching in pain.

Niragi crashes to the floor in a messy, loose-limbed heap. His gun falls to the side and is quickly kicked just out of reach by a casual, flip-flopped foot.

Niragi looks up to see a smug-looking Takeru staring down at him.

“And that’s how we do it in Kabukicho, bitch.”

“Not fucking fair,” Niragi wheezes in protest, arm twisting so he can clutch at his aching back, “you…cheating bastard.”

Takeru picks up the discarded gun and hands it to Aguni, who snatches it from his grip with an angry grimace.

“I may be a bastard, but not a cheating one,” Takeru gloats as he watches Aguni unload the bullets from the gun’s chamber, “I kissed you, you fell to your knees, end of story. I won fair and square.”

Aguni hands the bullets to Takeru, who pockets them with a certain measure of glee.

“If it makes you feel better, I had a lovely time,” Takeru says, “I don’t often come across tongue piercings, so that was quite a treat.”

“I’ll…fucking…kill you!”

“Not today, you won’t,” Aguni says, kicking the unloaded gun back to the floor-dwelling man, “Meanwhile, I suggest you try to get some sleep while you’re down there; you just doubled your patrol duty for the next three nights, so you’ll need all the rest you can get.”

Niragi immediately dissolves into angry, breathless protests, even going so far as to pound his fist on the floor in rage. Aguni remains unswayed, and motions for Takeru to follow him out of the room.

“Brilliant addition, old friend,” Takeru commends Aguni, patting him on the shoulder thrice as they begin to make their way out of the room, “shall we do lunch?”

“Fine,” Aguni agrees, “but you and I are going to have a serious talk about risk management…”

And the two men exit the room, chatting as if they hadn’t just been part of a life-and-death experience, leaving Niragi to gather himself and his pride from the floor.

[konlyfans]

Get You Alone

pairing: au!Yuto x female reader ft. au!Ten and au!Felix

genre: smut & fluff

summary: you and your besties go out for drinks and the cute new bartender catches your eye. contains drinking, m/f sex, some swearing. this is the first installment in an au series I’m starting called Eden.

Eden Towers. Where you live and work, twin buildings that unlock a heaven (or hell, if that’s how you like it) on earth. The towers, named Yin and Yang, are set up sort of like a hotel or resort, and are connected by a skywalk. Inside you’ll find anything and everything your heart desires. Be it clubs, bars, spas or rooms for more intimate experiences... Eden has it all. You and your two roommates are dates for hire, offering whatever you feel comfortable with ranging from dinner and drinks to entire weekends of play. It’s the cherry on top that you three are best friends too.

“None of us have commitments tonight, right?” Felix steps into the living room wearing nothing but pajama pants after having slept for most of the day. You and your third roomie, Ten, look up from the movie you’re watching and shake your heads.

“I’m free all weekend,” Ten adds.

“Let’s get a drink tonight. It’s been forever since we went out,” Felix suggests. Ten nods and you excitedly agree, thrilled by the thought of a night out with your two favorite people.

“We can get all cute and head over to that club in Yin! I heard they have a hot new bartender,” you add with a little clap of your hands.

“Are you talking about Yuto,” Ten guesses, and you nod accordingly. “He’s, very very cute. The quiet and tall type.”

“So it’s set then,” Felix jumps in before you two can get caught up gossiping about the newbie, “drinks tonight? Let’s say... 10?”

And it’s as easy as that. Before you know it night rolls around and you’re all dolled up to go out. Your dress is flirty, a little revealing, and shows off all the right curves. When you meet Felix in the doorway a little after 10, you have him do a look over your outfit, and pride swells in your chest as he bites his lip and spins you.

You’ve all been intimate together before, you and ten, you and Felix, he and ten... And on one special occasion all three of you together. You had a unique, unbreakable bond that not many others could rival. The three of you cherish each other.

“If he doesn’t hurry up, I’m just gonna to take you out by myself,” Felix grins, pulling you in by the waist. “You look too good to have to wait.”

“I’m ready,” Ten snaps, rounding the corner in tight leather pants and a loose button up. He almost matches Felix, accept Felix’s pants are denim and his shirt is tucked in. “It takes time to look this good.”

“You both look amazing, now let’s go,” you giggle. With a hand in each of theirs, you drag them out the door.

It’s a quick journey to the other building, and the club is buzzing with life and energy. You make a beeline for the bar with your two dates in tow, and the new bartender you’d heard so much about instantly comes into view. He’s just as tall and handsome as he’d been described.

“You must be the new hire,” you grin as you reach the bar, resting your elbows on the hardwood and plopping your chin in your hands. Even in a black button up and slacks to match, all tied together with an apron, he’s stunning.

“My name’s Yuto, and you must be Y/n,” he lowly replies. If he wasn’t sexy enough already, the bass in his voice was a definite panty dropper.

“So you’ve heard about me. Only good things I hope?” Felix rests a hand at the small of your back as you flirt shamelessly, and Ten watches you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“The best things,” your bartender assures. “So how may I serve you this evening?”

“Serve me?” You bat your lashes, pressing your tongue to the inside of you cheek until Ten intervenes.

“Damn, woman! Can we get our drinks first!?” He causes the four of you to erupt in laughter for a moment, breaking the growing sexual tension. “We’ll do three shots of anything strong and sweet.”

“Coming right up.” Yuto doesn’t miss the chance to smirk at you before he gets to work on your drinks, and a warm tingle flutters through you.

As the night blazes on, the three of you get more and more tipsy. Liquor is burning in your veins as you take shot after shot, laughing and dancing with the people you meet. Yuto keeps a playful eye on you, so much so that you’re pretty sure you’ll be seeing him after his shift, and it puts butterflies in your belly.

“He’s been watching you this whole night,” Felix confirms like he’s reading your thoughts. You’re sandwiched between him and Ten on the dance floor, and Yuto’s directly in your line of sight. He winks at you, absentmindedly wiping a glass in his hands. That warm feeling grows hot.

“Just go get him,” Ten encourages, though he rolls his eyes. He all but shoves you out from between them, immediately pulling Felix in and dancing with him instead. “We can enjoy the rest of our night, and you can enjoy the rest of yours. If he was interested in me, I’d go for it in a heartbeat.”

So you do. You strut your way back to bar, all liquid courage and lust, and make your way right to him.

“My shift just ended,” he smiles as you reach him. “I was wondering if maybe we could go someplace else. I wanted to ask for a few tips with clients.”

“Oh, you’re a date too? I thought you only worked the bar...”

“I’m a new date. I haven’t had my first client yet.” His cheeks tint with a cute shade of shy, but you’re practically beaming at him. “I know you’re with your friends, but maybe you can drop by my place later?”

“We can go now,” you shrug, trying not to seem too eager despite the heavy flirting that’s been going on. “They, uh, they told me I should take the chance if I got it.”

“But do you want to? Do you want to leave with me?” There was a heavy seriousness in his eyes, one that said your consent is essential and he doesn’t take it lightly.

“I would love to leave with you, Yuto.”

-

The night isn’t exactly what you expect, but for all the right reasons. Yuto is funny, kind, and surprisingly enough he really did want to ask you questions about being a date. Time passes in leaps and bounds as you talk away over a few more drinks and snacks. He’s a generous host, offering anything and everything within his means to make you comfortable.

Before you know it, the sky starts to grow lighter as sunrise creeps in. You’re on the couch, sitting close enough that your knees are touching as you face each other and a blanket covers your laps. The conversation has dwindled a bit, and now you’re wearing a dopey sleepy smile as you watch his eyes grow heavy.

“This was not what I expected,” you sigh, brushing rebel stands of his dark hair back from his face. He turns his head just enough to brush his lips to the heel of your hand.

“I had every intention to seduce you, I had a whole plan, but you’re so fun to talk to...”

“What was your plan?”

“Well, I was going to ask you for tips with clients, but I was going to ask for a more hands-on example... You know... Something cheesy like that,” he laughs.

“It would have worked,” you smile, “but maybe another time.” He sits up, suddenly more awake from your words, and leans in closer than he already is. A strong hand wraps the back of your neck, pulling you in ever so gently until his lips meet yours. It’s pleasantly sweet, gentle and soft in the glow of dawn, and exactly what you thought kissing him would feel like. He talked like he wanted to be a big bad dominate in bed, but in every word you could see he was naturally the opposite. So you decide to show him a bit of your charm, the reason why you come with such a reputation in Eden; because you can be anyone’s dream. You have a knack for reading people, seeing past what they want to exactly what they need, and you deliver accordingly.

You climb into his lap, letting the blanket fall to the floor as your dress rides up your thighs when you straddle him. You taste the whimper on his tongue when you take control, rolling your hips as you kiss him till he’s breathless. An impressive erection stiffens against your panties.

“Look at you, baby boy,” you praise, noting the shiver that seems to tickle its way down his neck as you speak, “you talk a big game but you just want to be taken care of, don’t you?”

“H-How did you-”

“I’m good at what I do, sweetie.” You pop each button on his shirt until his torso is bare and you can drag your fingertips from the base of his neck to his belt. “You took such good care of me tonight, don’t you want me to take care of you now?”

“Please.” His voice is barely more that a frustrated whisper against your skin as he pulls you close again, gracing your neck with little kisses. There’s a quick fumble of buckles and zippers before he pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees.

“Easy, baby,” you smile, “I’m not going anywhere.” You distract him with another kiss as you reach between your bodies and take his cock in your hand. Given his height, you’re not surprised that he’s big, and his size send a wave of arousal to pool between your legs. “You just want to be good for me, don’t you?” He nods, his words seem to be lost somewhere in his throat as you pump your hand up and down. “Then touch me. Get me ready for you.”

He submits willingly, pushing the thin fabric of your panties aside and plunging right into the wetness he finds. He stokes an untamable fire in you as he plays and lets you ride his fingers to your satisfaction. You continue touching him the whole while, until you feel a bit of precum under your thumb as you swipe it across his tip. He shudders by your hand.

“Condom?” You stand, leaving him dazed for a moment as you move without warning to take your panties off completely. He fishes through his pocket after kicking off his pants, and by the time you seat yourself on him again, he’s rolled the condom on. You sink down onto him and feel your body flood with pleasure. He lets a low moan slip past his pretty lips.

“Fuck....” You rock your hips expertly as he swears and tugs down the straps of your dress to kiss as much of your skin as he can. A certain power surges through you as you watch him come undone, his cute moans and desperate pleas are steadily fanning your flame.

“You feel so good baby,” you coo, feeding into the praise kink you suspect he has, “so good.” You can feel him buck his hips to meet yours, wanting to prove that he’s just as good as you need him to be.

“Wait. Wait, I’m too close.” You ignore him. Though it’s touching that he wants to prolong your pleasure, there’s no need.

“It’s okay, cum for me,” you encourage, driving your hips faster and clenching your walls around him. Yuto swears again as you push him towards his orgasm, and soon he’s unable to hold it off any longer. He cums hard in the condom while he’s still inside you, moaning from deep down in his chest and letting his head fall back.

“Use me,” he groans through the hight of his pleasure. You feel him drop his hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles to get you there before the overstimulation becomes too much for him. His hard work pays off, and in no time your orgasm blooms sweetly through your veins. You cry his name into the morning air, praising him to the very end.

-

You do your best to sneak in unnoticed, not wanting to wake your roomies at this ungodly hour once you arrive home. All is well until you open your room to find them both sprawled out on your bed. Felix is still in the shirt he wore out last night, only now it’s unbuttoned and half hanging off of him. He’s not wearing pants, and neither is Ten, they’re both just sleeping in their underwear.

“Where am I supposed to sleep,” you mumble to yourself as you wiggle out of your dress and pull on a comfy tee, carefully trying not to wake them as you move around your room.

“Just climb in,” Felix answers. You turn to see his eyes aren’t even open, but one hand is lazily waving you over. “We got a little too drunk. We were waiting for you to come back so you could tell us all about your night,” he explains as you tuck yourself away against him. Ten shifts as you nestle your body between them, but he still out cold.

“He wants to be a dom really bad, but he’s so submissive,” you giggle.

“That’s cute,” Felix yawns and you can tell he’s already drifting off again. You follow his lead, and the three of you sleep the morning away.

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter One

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3, Tumblr Master Post

Chapter One

“Lightwood’s Mortuary, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

“You know,” Izzy said, “that joke would land a lot better if you hadn’t turned green last week when I mentioned getting to do my first cadaver dissection.”

“First of all,” Jace said, abandoning his laptop in favor of flopping back onto his bed, “it’s creepy that you say ‘getting to’ instead of ‘having to.’ And second of all, no one wants to hear about how much fun you had slicing up dead bodies over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Max wanted to hear about it.”

“Max also can’t wait to get to middle school because he heard you get to use actual fire in science class,” Jace pointed out.

“Max is just into science like his big sister,” Izzy countered breezily. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Please,” Jace said with far more enthusiasm than the situation probably warranted. “I’m desperate enough for any distraction that will take me away from trying to memorize third declensions that I would love to discuss whatever family holiday drama is so colossal I’m hearing it from you instead of Alec. Is Robert planning to show up uninvited to Christmas dinner with his girlfriend again? Oh! Did Mom finally snap and kill him? Is that why Alec isn’t calling? Is he helping her hide the body?”

“Oh my god,” Izzy laughed. “Dad and Annamarie are spending the holidays in Provance with her family, and there are no bodies to be hidden. This is what you get for taking Latin instead of Spanish like a sane person.”

“This coming from a woman who’s studying both,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah, because a basic understanding of Latin and fluency in Spanish will both help me get into med school, and I need all the help I can get if I’m going to get into Grossman. Besides, I’d never imply anyone in this family is sane. If you studied more, you’d know that ‘Lightwood’ is just Latin for ‘totally fucking cracked.’”

“Please,” Jace snorted. “It’s not even a Latinate name. It’s Germanic. ‘Lightwood’ is Old English for ‘totally fucking cracked.’ Speaking of which, what’s the Christmas disaster?”

“It’s not a disaster exactly,” Izzy hedged, and Jace felt a sudden frisson of actual unease. Izzy normally had no problem speaking her mind. “It’s not a disaster at all, actually. It’s just. I invited someone.”

“Oh.” Jace relaxed. He didn’t know why Izzy was making such a big deal out of this. In the years since the divorce, Maryse had often encouraged her kids to invite any friends without a place to go to join them for holidays. Izzy’s own roommate had come for Thanksgiving last year. “That’s cool.”

“No,” Izzy said, like he was missing something obvious. “Jace, I invited someone. Someone I’m seeing. Seriously.”

“Oh,” Jace said again, this time with dawning comprehension. “That’s great, Iz. I’m happy for you. Wait, Mom’s not doing her overprotective, no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-children thing again, is she? Is that why you called, you need me to run interference?”

“No, no,” Izzy reassured him, although her voice still held an underlying tension. “Mom’s been great, actually. They knew each other already, so that probably helps.” Jace heard a shaky inhale before Izzy continued. “You, um. You know her, too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Jace said with forced ease, wracking his brain for any clue as to what could have Izzy so freaked out. Whatever it was, Jace wasn’t going to add to her stress. As far as he knew, Isabelle had never even been serious enough about someone before to even use the term girlfriend or boyfriend, let alone bring them home for Christmas. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s Clary,” Izzy said in a rush. “I’m dating Clary.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and Jace was glad he was already lying down.

“Clary?” he repeated. “M—” He just barely stopped himself from saying “my Clary.” Because she wasn’t, not anymore. Not for a long time. “Morgenstern?” It was a clumsy recovery, but it was the best he could manage. “You’re dating Clary Morgenstern?”

Jace and Clary had met at the beginning of Jace’s junior year of high school. Clary, a year younger, had just lost her mom, and the two initially bonded over the shared experience of having lost parents. But Clary was fierce and bold and so full of passion even in the depths of her grief that Jace really couldn’t help falling in love with her. They’d dated for nearly two years—practically forever in high school terms—and even though they’d both known they were growing apart by the time Jace had to choose between his first-choice college in Boston and staying in New York to go to NYU, Clary would always hold a special place in Jace’s heart as his first love.

“Yeah,” Izzy said on a heavy exhale. “For a while now. That—that’s why I called. I didn’t want it to be weird, you know? For us all to just show up and for it to be a surprise. But I guess I probably shouldn’t have done it over the phone, either. I just didn’t think—”

“Izzy,” Jace said, much more calmly than he felt. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

“God, I should have told you sooner,” Izzy continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “I just knew it probably would be weird for you, so I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure—”

“But you are now,” Jace interrupted again. It wasn't really a question. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed. “I’m so sure.”

“Then it’s not weird,” Jace lied. “I mean, come on, my sister is dating someone who makes her happy and who I know will treat her right. What kind of idiot would I have to be to complain about that?”

“Really?” Izzy pressed. “Because I told Clary I wanted to talk to you before we finalized plans. So, if it is weird for you, or even if you just don’t want to be the only single person at the table on Christmas—”

“I won’t be,” Jace interrupted.

There was a pregnant pause, and then Izzy squealed so loud Jace had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Oh my god, Jace! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you just say you were bringing someone, too, you jackass? Do you know how worried I’ve been about telling you about me and Clary?”

Which wasn’t what he’d meant at all—he’d only meant that Maryse was single, too—but Jace couldn’t resist the excitement in Izzy’s voice, not after her earlier panic.

“If I’d known you were all freaked out, I would have said something sooner,” Jace improvised. “It’s kind of new, and I haven’t even had the chance to tell Mom yet.”

“Let me,” Izzy insisted. “I’ve been trying to get her to admit that she and Luke are an item for ages, and maybe knowing that we’re all happily attached will be the push she needs.”

“Hold up. Mom…and Clary’s stepdad?” Jace was starting to wonder if this was some bizarre stress nightmare brought on by impending finals.

“Yup,” Izzy confirmed, popping the “p.” “They’re not even subtle about how much time they’re spending together, but Mom keeps talking about how they’re ‘just old friends.’” Jace could practically hear the eye roll.

“Anyway,” she continued, “if I leave now, I can catch Mom closing up the bookshop and maybe finally get her to crack. Don’t worry about Christmas plans. I’ll take care of everything. Talk to you later!”

“Iz, wait,” Jace started, but he was interrupted by the telltale beep of the call ending.

Jace stared at his phone, wondering how, exactly, he’d managed to make such a disaster of things. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he decided, tossing his phone aside. He just had to get through finals, and then he could come up with some excuse for why his nonexistent girlfriend couldn’t make it for Christmas. An excuse that wouldn’t make Izzy suspicious. Or Clary. Or Alec. Or— Fuck. Not thinking about it.

He turned his attention back to his laptop only to realize after several minutes of staring blankly that he wasn’t prepared to think about Latin anymore, either. Fuck it. He was going to spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking beer and watching stupid people doing stupid things on TV and thinking about absolutely nothing at all.

Because Jace just couldn’t catch a break, he found both the couch and TV already in use. He wanted to be annoyed, especially since he knew this was at least the dozenth time this semester his roommate had watched Return of the Jedi. Part of him was annoyed. But another part of him was…not annoyed. And that was yet another thing Jace wasn’t going to think about.

Jace’s first impression of Simon Lewis, when he’d walked into History and Literature of Music their freshman year, had been that he was kind of hot, in a nerdy way. His second impression, when he actually talked to Simon a few days later, was that the guy was annoying as hell. Over the course of the year, as they somehow ended up hanging out with the same group of friends, it became a tolerable sort of annoying. So tolerable, in fact, that when Jace found himself desperate for a roommate the next summer when Raj bailed on him last-minute, he’d agreed to let Simon have the second room in the surprisingly affordable apartment he’d found.

Jace’s third impression of Simon came four days after they’d moved in together, when he happened to be walking down the hallway at the exact moment Simon stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, a stray droplet of water trailing down his surprisingly well-defined abs. In that moment, Jace must have lost his mind, because he had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to follow the path of that droplet with his tongue and, oh. Oh no. Jace had been wrong this entire time. Simon wasn’t just annoying. He wasn’t just nerd-hot. He was annoyingly hot.

And Jace was maybe just a little bit in trouble.

Because he’d seen the kinds of people Simon dated. Thoughtful. Driven. Well-adjusted. Unlike Jace in pretty much every way that mattered. Not that Jace dated, but he wasn’t the kind of person Simon hooked up with, either, he was pretty sure.

(Jace confessed his fourth impression of Simon to Maia several months later, after many, many shots of tequila. Maia laughed at him for a solid five minutes, but she also poured them another round and never mentioned it again after they sobered up because she was actually a pretty good friend despite how much she always seemed to enjoy Jace’s suffering.)

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked around a mouthful of instant ramen. Jace refused to acknowledge that the way his cheeks puffed out when he ate was cute.

“Just.” Jace shook his head. “Holidays. Family stuff.”

“Your sister planning to make Christmas dinner again?” Simon asked.

“Worse,” Jace said, flopping onto the other end of their stained Goodwill couch. “She’s dating my ex.”

Simon winced. “Ouch, dude.” Simon poked at his noodles with a pair of well-used disposable chopsticks. “You still have feelings for your ex?”

“What? No, of course not. It was ages ago, and we were practically still kids. And the breakup was mutual.” He made a face. “But Izzy’s bringing her home for Christmas.”

“Okay, yeah, that could be a little awkward,” Simon conceded.

“It gets worse,” Jace admitted. “When she told me, I kind of panicked and said I was bringing someone home, too.”

Simon frowned. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” Jace told him. “Which is kind of the problem.”

“Wow. You really know how to make things difficult for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “Very helpful.”

Simon shrugged, then said, as casual as if he were offering to toss Jace’s towels in with his to make a full load at the laundromat, “You could always take me home with you.”

Jace stared. “What?”

“I mean, I’m going to be in the city anyway,” Simon continued, “and it’s not like my family does Christmas. I think Mom and Becky can manage the traditional Chinese takeout and Fast and Furious marathon without me.”

“Your family watches The Fast and the Furious on Christmas?” It was the only part of that Jace was emotionally prepared to process.

“It used to be Die Hard, but Mom’s got a thing for Vin Diesel, so now we alternate years.”

Jace stared a moment longer, waiting for any of this to make sense. On the television, Boushh threatened Jabba with a thermal detonator.

“Right,” Jace said when it was clear the situation wasn’t going to make sense of itself. “Okay. Rewind to the part where I’m supposed to take you home with me for Christmas and, what, pretend you’re my boyfriend?”

He could picture it all too easily. Simon wielding his enthusiastic charm to keep Izzy out of the kitchen while Jace helped Maryse make dinner. Simon joining Alec in coaxing Jace toward the piano when it was time to sing carols. Simon flushed and smiling after a couple mugs of Magnus’s deceptively alcoholic eggnog. Simon’s hand in his because that’s just something boyfriends do.

It was a horrifyingly tempting prospect.

Jace pushed those thoughts away, crossing his arms over his chest and directing all the scorn he felt at himself into the stare he leveled at Simon. “What’s that supposed to accomplish other than giving me a headache?”

“Hey,” Simon said, setting the dregs of his ramen down on their secondhand Ikea coffee table, “I’ll have you know that I make an excellent boyfriend.”

That wasn’t exactly news. The fact that Simon was friends with basically all of his exes said as much. But Jace wasn’t about to let on that he paid that much attention to Simon’s dating habits. Or to pass up such a good opening. “That why you’re single?”

“Not the one currently desperate for a holiday date here, pal,” Simon pointed out.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty eager to be my holiday date just a second ago,” Jace said, adding a wink just to be obnoxious.

“It was an offer, jackass. One which I now deeply regret.”

“Which you should,” Jace told him, turning to the TV and pretending to watch. “Now we can both forget this conversation ever happened, and I can go back to figuring out what I’m going to tell my family about why my nonexistent significant other can’t make it for Christmas this year.”

“Right,” Simon muttered, picking up his bowl and turning his own attention back to the movie.

Jace told himself he didn’t feel just the tiniest bit disappointed.

“The thing is,” Simon said several minutes later, as Boba Fett tumbled into the Sarlaac pit, “my cousin Rachel is getting married on Valentine’s Day. And my Bubbe Helen is still pretty cranky with me for breaking up with Maia.”

Jace frowned at him. “You and Maia dated for like a month and a half. Over a year ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Simon said, “Bubbe Helen really liked her, but I think maybe that’s because Maia’s the only person I’ve ever brought to a family function. So, I was thinking maybe if I brought someone else to Rachel’s wedding, she’d get the hint and drop the Maia thing. And then you suddenly needed someone to take home for Christmas, and I thought we could, you know, help each other out.”

It was a terrible idea, and Jace meant to say so. He really did. But what came out of his mouth instead was, “You want to introduce me to your grandmother?”

“I mean,” Simon said with a shrug, “she’d probably be happier if you were Jewish, but I honestly think she’d be happy to see me with anyone who’s not a total asshole. Ever since she found out Maia and I aren’t together anymore, she’s been acting like I’m going to end up a lonely old maid or something, which I totally don’t get, because A, I’m only twenty-one, and B, she doesn’t think it’s a problem that Becky’s single and Becky’s two years older than me.”

“Glad to know I meet the very minimal requirement of not being an asshole.”

“Not a total asshole,” Simon corrected with a teasing grin.

“You’re really making a compelling case for trying to convince our families that we’re a couple,” Jace said drily. But he was maybe just a little bit weak for Simon’s smile, so he added, “But you might as well tell me how exactly you think this would work. Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Simon repeated. “Right. Well, we’d need to come up with a game plan, obviously. And rules. Rules that we actually follow, because that’s where things like this always fall apart, when someone ignores the rules.”

“Where things always fall apart,” Jace repeated. “Is this something you do often?”

“What? No! I just mean like in movies and stuff. Fake dating is practically its own genre, so we have a ton of examples for how not to do it, and…” Simon frowned as his voice trailed off. “And now that I’m saying this out loud, I’m realizing how dumb it sounds. You’re right. We should forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Or,” Jace said slowly, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself, “we could spend some time coming up with a plan and then decide if we think it will work.”

“Wait, really?” The slow grin spreading across Simon’s face did nothing to ease Jace’s sense of impending doom, but it did fill him with a soft warmth that made the doom easier to ignore.

“Why not?” Jace shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “I’m done with classes at noon tomorrow if you want to do it then.”

“I’ve got a break from then till three if you don’t mind meeting near campus,” Simon said. “Say, Java Jones at twelve-thirty?”

“Sure,” Jace agreed to the background of Jabba’s sail barge exploding. He hoped that was less metaphorical than it felt.

~~~

“I thought we were planning a couple of fake dates, not staging a major military operation,” Jace said as he surveyed the notebooks and stacks of paper strewn across the rickety cafe table in front of Simon.

“Oh, sorry,” Simon said, hastily shoving exactly one of the many notebooks into his backpack. “I was just reviewing notes for my econ final while I waited.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Jace asked, attempting to clear enough room on the table for his coffee and the banana muffin that was attempting to pass for lunch.

“It’s so necessary,” Simon told him, reaching over to steal a piece of Jace’s muffin. “I don’t want to end up like Melissa Joan Hart in My Fake Fiancé.” He popped the piece of muffin into his mouth. “Or Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy. Oh! Or even worse, Melissa Joan Hart in Holiday in Handcuffs.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Simon sighed heavily. “I’m saying we need clear, well-defined rules if this is going to work.”

“Is rule number one ‘don’t be Melissa Joan Hart’?” Jace asked, snatching his muffin away when Simon reached for it again and taking a pointed bite.

“No,” Simon said, with far more seriousness than Jace thought the situation warranted. “That’s rule number two. Rule number one,” he continued, opening a blue notebook to a fresh page, “is ‘absolutely no sex.’”

Jace choked on his muffin.

“If there’s one thing everyone seems to agree with, it’s that things always break down when that rule gets broken,” Simon continued as though Jace weren’t struggling to breathe around a mouthful of muffin and why Simon thought they even needed a rule for that.

Jace washed the remaining crumbs of muffin down with a generous swig of coffee, then leaned back in his chair with a deliberately cocky grin. “I mean, I know I’m damn near irresistible, but do you really think you need a rule to keep from jumping me?”

“Rule three,’’ Simon said, scribbling furiously in the notebook, “treat each other with the same respect we’d treat people we’re actually dating.”

“Hey, I would have the same question for someone I was actually dating.”

Simon looked up from the notebook. “That explains so much about your dating history.”

Jace flipped him off, and Simon flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Nope, sorry, rule one. But,” he continued, serious once again, “we should have rules about what kind of physical affection we are comfortable with. Like, I know we don’t normally do hugs, but it would be weird if we never hugged in front of your family if we were dating, right? What about holding hands, is that too much? And what about kissing? I’m definitely cool with cheek kisses, but I don’t know—”

“Simon,” Jace interrupted before he could get too worked up. Or make Jace think about more things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. “You’re allowed to hug me. And hold my hand. Honestly, I’m sure I’d be fine with anything you’re comfortable doing in front of my family, so how about we just go with this: casual touches are fine and for anything else, I’ll follow your lead.”

The look Simon gave him was so searching that Jace almost worried for a second that Simon would be able to see right past his crossed arms and feigned nonchalance to the part of him that was less worried about showing physical affection than how much he wanted it, the part that avoided hugging Simon because he liked it.

“Okay,” Simon said finally. “But you have to promise you’ll tell me if anything I do bothers you even a little bit.”

“You mean like singing Shake It Off at the top of your lungs in the shower?” Jace asked.

“That was one time!” Simon protested. “I was up all night studying and under the influence of too many energy drinks. We agreed never to mention it again.”

“No, you told me never to mention it again and I laughed at you.”

“See, this is why we need rules. You’re already breaking number three.”

“Yeah, because we’re not pretend-dating yet,” Jace said. “That one might be a little rough, but I’m sure I can manage with some practice.”

There was that searching look again, but then Simon nodded like Jace had said something particularly insightful. “You’re right, we should practice.”

“We—what?”

“If we’re going to convince people who actually know us that we’re dating, then we should practice first,” Simon said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Not just the rules we know are going to be hard, but all of it, so we can work out any kinks in the plan before showtime.”

And maybe it was reasonable, but it was one thing to put on a show for his family, for Simon’s family, for a few days at a time in places that might be familiar to each of them individually, but that weren’t theirs. It was entirely another thing to do it here, in the cafe they went to at least twice a week, or on campus where they’d first met and had to keep on attending classes for at least another year, or even worse in the apartment they shared, around their friends—

“I really should have thought of it earlier,” Simon continued, blissfully unaware of Jace’s inner turmoil. “My best friend back home, she’s an amazing liar. Like, seriously, she got away with everything when we were kids. But any time she needed me to back up her story, she’d make me practice with her like a hundred times until she knew I could convince her mom and stepdad, even after I got good enough that I didn’t have to practice to convince Mom. Man, those two could sniff out the tiniest discrepancy in any story. Like, if normal parent bullshit detection is a one, my mom’s is probably a solid three, but Fray’s parents? Eleven, easy.”

“I’m pretty sure no one I’m related to has supernatural bullshit detection,” Jace told him. “And it’s common knowledge I’m a better liar than you are, so if you can fool your mom without practice, so can I.”

“Maybe,” Simon conceded. “But a little bit of practice couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jace was pretty sure that it could hurt, actually, but he was also pretty sure he was the only one in danger of getting hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth consideration. Especially weighed against the hopeful enthusiasm in Simon’s expression.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We could start by pretending we’re on a date right now,” Simon suggested. “We’re already sharing a muffin. So, just treat me like you’d treat anyone you were on a date with.”

“My dates don’t usually involve this many notebooks,” Jace told him. “And if my date stole my muffin, the date would be over.”

“Come on, you’re not even trying,” Simon said, gathering up the papers and notebooks. “You’d really ditch your date over a muffin?”

“Absolutely,” Jace insisted. “They’d have to be seriously good in bed to make up for it, and I’m pretty sure rule number one says you’ll never get muffin-stealing privileges.”

“If the biggest benefit to sleeping with you is getting to share your muffins, then I’m not the one missing out,” Simon told him.

“You selling your body for muffins now, Lightwood?” an amused voice interrupted. “I bet I know a few people who’d toss a bran muffin or two your way for a chance at that ass.”

“Which is why you’re not my pastry-pimp, Roberts,” Jace said, smirking at Maia as she helped herself to one of the table’s empty chairs. “I only trade this ass for top tier, gourmet muffins. If your muffins don’t have at least two Michelin stars, I’m not interested.”

“I give him a week until he’s working corners for Entenmann’s,” Simon told her. “He was just threatening to walk out on our date over a bite of mediocre banana nut.”

Maia’s eyes widened. “Your— Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and throwing them both an apologetic smile that Jace was pretty sure wouldn’t be directed at him if he were sitting with anyone other than Simon. “I swear I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just thought you were studying or something. You guys have fun, and I’ll just—”

“It’s a practice date,” Jace interrupted, “not an actual date. And Simon’s a dirty muffin thief who won’t even put out, so I’m not sure it really even qualifies as any kind of date.”

Maia looked between the two of them, then slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a ‘practice date,’ and why are the two of you on one?”

“Jace needs a fake boyfriend to take home for Christmas, and I need a fake date for Rachel’s wedding,” Simon explained, snatching the last bit of Jace’s muffin without remorse. “And we thought we should practice dating before trying to convince our families that were actually, you know, together.”

“That’s a terrible idea, and I regret any part I played in the two of you becoming friends,” Maia said flatly.

“Yeah, that would probably worry me more if you didn’t say that like twice a week,” Simon told her.

“Oh god, Simon, what did you let Jace talk you into now?” another voice asked, and suddenly there were three more people crowding around their tiny table, because apparently all of their friends were at Java Jones today. Which, in retrospect, Jace should have expected, given how often they all hung out there.

“It was actually my idea,” Simon told Maureen, sliding his chair closer to Jace’s to make room for her, Bat, and Lily. “Jace is taking me home to meet his family over the holidays, and I’m taking him as my date to my cousin’s wedding.”

This proclamation was met with a stunned silence that was broken when Lily turned to Jace and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“That’s for abandoning me, jerk,” Lily told him. “Not that I can really blame you—either of you,” she added, giving both Jace and Simon an appreciative once over, “‘cause damn—but I thought we had an understanding.” She sighed heavily. “Now that you’ve gone over the dating Dark Side, who’s going to be my wingman? You’re probably going to start doing all kinds of relationship-y things and talking about feelings—” she said it like it was a dirty word “—and crap like that.”

“I am not going to talk about my feelings,” Jace said, at the same time that Simon said, “We’re not actually together. We’re just pretending.”

“They’re planning to try to convince their families they’re dating even though they’re not,” Maia explained. “Because they apparently think that’s not just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh,” Lily said, sounding oddly disappointed.

“Fifty bucks,” Bat announced, “says that when this blows up in their faces, Jace is the first one to break down and call Maia in a panic.”

“Hey,” Jace protested.

“Oh, you’re on,” Maureen said, ignoring Jace entirely. “Sorry, Simon, but no one panics quite like you.”

“I’m in,” Lily said, “and I agree with Maureen that Simon will break first, but his call to Maia will be interrupted by Jace calling five minutes later.”

“Why am I the one getting all of the panicked calls?” Maia wanted to know.

“Because you’re the only person at this table who isn’t an asshole,” Simon told her, “but nothing’s going to go wrong, let alone panic-inducing levels of wrong, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Dude,” Jace said, “she’s an asshole to me.”

“You like it,” Maia and Simon said in unison, causing the rest of the table to collapse into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Maia said around her giggles several minutes later, “if you’re all betting, then count me in, too. I bet that these fools,” she looked pointedly at Jace, then at Simon, “don’t call me when this whole thing goes to hell, but I somehow end up having to haul their asses out of trouble, anyway.”

“I rescind my assessment of you as not an asshole,” Simon told her.

“I’d think twice about calling the woman who’s going to haul your ass out of trouble an asshole if I were you,” Bat said.

“Back to this pretending to be together thing,” Lily said. “What exactly does that entail?”

“That’s actually what we were trying to figure out when you guys showed up,” Simon told her. “We started a list of rules, but we only made it to four so far.”

“Your list should definitely include making out,” Lily said decisively. “Having made out with both of you, I can say with confidence that you’re definitely missing out if you don’t. In fact, you should try it now so we can let you know if it looks authentic.”

“You just want to watch them make out,” Maureen said.

“Yes,” Lily told her. She didn’t add ‘duh,’ but it was implied. “I always want to make hot people make out. But in this case, I’m also being helpful.”

The ensuing argument over the line between helpful and self-serving was thankfully cut short by the opening guitar line of Blonde Redhead’s Barragan.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” Simon said, holding up his phone. “I’ve been playing voicemail tag with Becky all week.” He looked at Jace. “Talk more about this later?”

“Sure,” Jace told him.

“Tell your sister I said hi,” Maia called after Simon as he headed away from the cafe’s crowd.

“You know,” Jace told her in a low voice, “you could always tell her hi yourself instead of always asking Simon to pass messages.”

Maia gave him an unimpressed look. “After everything I just heard, I’m pretty sure you’re the last person in this room I should be taking relationship advice from.”

“Bite me,” Jace told her, but he didn’t disagree.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

A Rare Night of Peace

Ron Speirs x Reader Drabble

Summary: Some truths are revealed over a rare night of peace. A few are more impactful than others.

Warnings: none, some potty words. Literally no plot, just drabble bc why not. It’s not very good but I’m working on writing scenes with dialogue from multiple characters so thank you for your time

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She gaped at him, and Lip snorted in laughter she couldn’t help but join in.

“You didn’t.” Y/n accused, a note of betrayal in her voice as Ron tellingly smirks while he goes about collecting his winnings.

She couldn't believe it. She would’ve been truly pissed if she hadn’t been so surprised at Nixon’s revelation. Lip is giving her shoulder a squeeze of mock comfort, laughing again when she shakes him off with a hiss of shut it.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that you were coddling me in poker?!” 

Speirs shoots her a look of ignorance. “I’m sure I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

She rolls her eyes, pushing away from the table and going over to her jacket by the door to get a new tie for her hair.

“You let me play against Malarkey and Carwod!!” she said with a glare when she got back shaking her head with obvious disappointment. “You let me bet against Malarkey and Carwood!”

“And you won, didn’t you?” he asks with a quirk of his brow, undisguised mirth in his expression.. “‘Sides, Donald Malarkey can’t bluff to save his life and Lipton doesn’t know how to play at all.”

Car’s smile of amusement disappears and a look of annoyance crosses his face. “I know how to play—”

“Oh yeah, so why are you playing blackjack at the poker table?”

She leans back in her seat and sighs, glaring at the back of Ron’s head. “Traitor.”

He snorts in amusement, knocking on the table to signal the end of his turn. “Not the worst thing I’ve been accused of being.”

She shakes her head, glaring at Bull’s unmasked amusement at her frustration. 

Narrowing her eyes, she turns to Nixon and smiles sweetly. 

“While we’re sharing harsh truths- Nix?  Bull, Luz, and Gonorrhea have been paying me in chocolate bars to smuggle your whiskey out of Dick’s stuff. They’ve been putting it back with some amber colored replacement they’ve concocted—”

“They fucking WHAT?!”

“Oh, come on! What’d I do to get thrown under the train?” Bull groans, shooting her a glare before turning to deal with the appalled Nixon, who was reaching for his bottle of Vat 69 and holding it up to the light with skeptical horror.

While she pursed her lips and sent Bull an air kiss he angrily bats away like a mosquito, Malarkey took his turn before nodding for Welsh to begin his turn. 

Peeking over Ron’s shoulder, she tried to get a peek of what cards he held in his hand, only to be caught by the man himself when she almost leaned too far out of her seat and had to catch herself on the back of his chair so she did not fall.

“Cheater,” he snarked, a dark chuckle escaping his chest when she smacked his bicep in retaliation. 

Without looking away from the game Ron hooks his foot around one of the legs of her chair, using a strong leg to drag her (and her seat) up close beside him until their thighs are pressed together, the wood of the chair leg whining as it was dragged across the stone floor. “Like I’d show you my cards without making sure you aren’t giving me away with your piss-poor poker face—”

“I’ll have you know that I have an excellent poker face, sir.” she dramatically flicks her hair over her shoulder, intentionally hitting him in the face with the still damp strands. “You’re the one who smells lies or whatever it is you do…”

“I thought it was fear that you said you could smell, Lt. Speirs?” Lipton joked quietly, earning a chuckle from those still paying attention to the game.

“I think you’re thinking of dogs or bees, Lt. Lipton.” Ron says cooly, no inflection in his voice as he watches Lip take a card and add it to his hand.

“Well, that would make your former position in Dog Company all the more ironic, wouldn’t it?” Y/n said quietly, working as hard as she could to keep a smile off of her face.

Lipton guffawed loudly, the sound making her laugh as well. Ron looked like he wanted to kick her chair over, his hatred of puns and wordplay well known to her by this point.

“And just for that,” Ron takes a deep breath, flipping his cards over and throwing them in the middle for everyone to see. “I’m not going to teach you the trick to win this game every time.”

“God, DAMNIT, Speirs!” Bull cursed, throwing his cards down in frustration as Nixon continued to interrogate him about his precious alcohol. “I fucking knew you just were fucking with us...”

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Welsh hit her arm. “I was counting on your tell to tell me what cards he had! Doesn’t your vein pop out of your forehead or something?”

“That’s Joe Liebgott...and he doesn’t do it anymore since someone taught him how to control it!”  Malarkey glared openly at Bull, who held his hands up in surrender.

“Luz had taken all the boy’s cigarettes, Don! What was I supposed to do? It was getting sad to watch…”

She smiles at the scene around her, feeling privileged to be able to see all of these men relaxed at the same time. Malark hadn’t laughed and teased so openly since Bastogne, and she remembered how when they had first met he had been laughing as well.

She hoped this was the beginning of something good for Donald Malarkey. 

He deserved something good.

Ron’s hand on her knee startles her slightly, the heat of his hand unfamiliar and unexpected. But when she looks around and sees no sign of danger, she looks down at his hand as if she’s never seen one before, cheeks heating at the sight of it. 

His thumb moves slightly, almost as if he was trying to offer some sort of reassurance. When she finds the courage to look at his face she sees that he is watching her just as carefully, as if he too is somewhat surprised by his bold action.

Turning to look across the table, she saw that none of the other men seemed to take notice of their exchange, all of them talking about some replacements she hadn’t met and lamenting their greenness.

No one knew that Ron Speirs, the Ron speirs, was touching her. No one had seen how flustered it was making her.

Well, thank God for small blessings…

“Y/N, is this—?” he began to ask under his breath, but she couldn’t bear to hear him second guess his boldness, so she quickly moved her hand to cover his and hold it in place. When he slightly raised a brow she nodded as subtle as she could, confirming that yes, she did want this.

 She did want him.

With a squeeze that she hoped conveyed her whole-hearted invitation to join her, she stood from her seat and made a point to stretch her arms above her head in a big stretch.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” she says with a yawn, the sound almost slipping out as a squeal when she feels Ron’s fingertips touch the back of her knee in a way that was so deliberately distracting that she had to really focus on keeping her expression passive. “Unless there’s anything else for me to look over, Lewie—?”

The slightly drunk man shook his head emphatically and pointed to the door grandly. 

“Go forth woman, I free you from your shackles. Get thee to a chaise lounge post haste and rest that big, beautiful brain of yours!”

She can’t help but laugh at his theatrics, making a show of pulling her coat over her shoulders and wrapping it around her.

“Alas, there is nary a chaise in sight, fair sir. Might I perhaps be so bold as to ask his royal highness for permission to substitute a fainting couch for a lumpy floor mattress in an apartment filled with no fewer than thirteen haunted dolls?”

Standing with a quickness someone as intoxicated as he was shouldn’t have been able to manage, he hits his fist against his chest and nods.

“Off with you, then. I tire of your dawdling!”

Bull boos from his seat, throwing a card at her as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “Go do Shakespeare somewhere else, you nerds. You’re hurting my head…”

Making a sound of false sympathy, she walks over to the blonde man and squeezes the tight muscles of his shoulders, something that made Bull groan with relief and her laugh at his reaction.

“Anything for you, Mr. Randleman.”

Giving his shoulders one final squeeze she heads to the door. “Night guys—”

“Wait,” Ron said as she walked by his seat, scooting his own chair back and reaching for his stuff. “I’ll walk you. Gotta find the mailroom anyway.”

Heart in her throat, she watched as Ron casually slung his gun over his shoulder, looking as if he hadn't just taken the first step in what was certain to be a complex dance she never thought she’d actually have to perform. Not that it mattered, she was determined to see this through.

You’re allowed to be selfish, you know. If you want something, and it’s there waiting for you, then why the fuck would you just let it get away?

He’d been talking about stealing from estates at the time, but now she was wondering if he had been talking in riddles intentionally. 

She wouldn’t put it past him.

No one bothered to give more than a wave as the two of them fell into step, the dark of the house swallowing them up. 

When he grabbed her hand in the dark, she smiled.

Y/N had a feeling that Ron was going to make his intentions very clear tonight.

About time.

~ ~ ~ taglist: @mrseasycompany​, @itswormtrain​

[maybebanks]

I Could’ve Stopped It CH.I

interactive fic

idea from @outrbanks

JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

alternative plot to episode “Dead Calm” - outerbanks

“So that’s what we’re doing now? We’re robbing drug dealers?” Kie asks, her tone worried and angry at the same time.

“This Barry guy is gonna find out. And he’s gonna come after us,” Sarah adds.

“Yes he will, okay, this is not the time to start wilin’ out,” Pope agrees.

“How’d you guys like havin a gun pulled on ya?” JJ retaliates.

You clenched your fists at your sides, Barry had threatened your group earlier and if it wasn’t for your brother John B initiating the reverse attack, he would have stolen your gold.

“Relax,” John B told JJ, stepping closer.

“He had it right here on you bro,” JJ pointed in your brothers face.

“Look,” John B pressed, “Just give me that shit-“ John B reached for the duffel bag JJ was holding.

At this, JJ lunges at John B, pushing him into the van. A loud banging noise erupting.

You flinched, but only Kie noticed.

“We’re putting it back,” John B orders. Still at the mercy of JJ.

“You feel like a tough guy, huh!? What are you gonna do when he comes for us?” John B questions.

You bit your lip, to be honest, the thought of vengeful Barry was worse than him before.

“We punch him in the throat,” JJ responds.

“Yeah good fuckin’ idea, JJ,” John B adds.

JJ scoffs lightly, “I’m not putting it back,” then JJ hops inside the van, taking a seat in the back.

“You guys getting in, or what?” JJ shouted, shuffling around in the bag.

You looked at Kie and she shook her head at you, almost telling you no.

Pope exchanged a glance with John B. No one said anything.

JJ took notice and got out of the van, “What?” He asked.

“We’re sick of your shit,” John B says, you wanted to stop him, but your feet were planted.

“Oh, my shit?” JJ scoffs.

“Yeah, yeah, your shit,” John B confirmed.

“Yes. Your pulling guns on people shit.” Kie pointed out.

“Y/n?!” JJ brought you into this, you were standing behind Kie, but you didn’t have anything to add, other than the fact that you were just scared.

Pope stepped forward, “You’re acting like a frickin maniac-“

“Pope! I took the fall for you man! You know how much money I owe because of you?!” JJ exclaimed.

“I’m gonna pay you back!” Pope responded.

“I just did! Pay it back,” JJ said, now quieter, “Right here, right now, by myself,”

JJ turned his head, locking eyes with you, “You know what? That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” JJ decides, grabbing the bag and zipping it shut.

“No, JJ-“ you began, your throat still dry.

“Go off, by myself,” he said harshly. He pulled the strap over his shoulder, turned his back, and started walking away.

“JJ wait!-“ you called, but stopped when you felt two hands grab your shoulders from behind and pull you back.

“Hey, don’t, Y/n,” John B, your brother said.

“He’s our friend-“

“Just..let him go,” Sarah added. Making you slightly angered.

Kie sighed, as Pope slammed his hands on the van.

“You can’t tell me what to do, John B,” you told him as you stepped forward to join JJ. You knew what would happen, that JJ had nowhere to go.

John B grabbed your again, by your waist, pulling you back towards him, “I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself over JJ and his-“

“Let go of me!” You screamed, John B pulling you into his chest as you squirmed.

You felt his muscular arms close in on your chest, watching JJ get farther and farther away.

“John B...” Sarah said as she saw you fight against him.

“I’m gonna let you go, and your gonna go straight in the van, okay?” John B said, condescendingly.

“No!” You spit, “fuck off,” you struggled.

“Y/n listen to him,” Kie added.

“Can’t you see he needs us right now?!” You strugged yourself away from John B.

“He does this, Y/n. He’ll come back sooner or later,” John B persuaded.

“I can’t believe you guys,” you scoffed, yanking your last arm out of John B’s grip.

“Y/n, don’t you dare,” John B challenged.

“Seriously?!” You exclaimed, staring directly at John B.

“He’s just trying to protect you, Y/n,” Sarah argued.

“You don’t fucking know him,” you said harshly, Sarah was surprised by your anger.

“Yeah, but we know his Dad. Y/n you don’t want to do this,” Pope reasoned.

You sighed, looking for JJ and now not able to see him, he must have gotten through the trees.

You tried not to show the sadness on your face at the thought of what would happen to JJ if he went home. He usually stayed with you and John B.

You didn’t say another word and just got in the passengers seat. John B started driving it beside you, the rest of the gang in the back.

-

You felt anxious, scared even. And not even of the fact that Barry could shoot up your house any minute.

You paced back and forth through the kitchen, only focused on your footsteps against the wood floor. You looked up only once or twice to see the couch spot JJ sometimes slept on, maybe he would be there.

“Y/n will you stop that?” John B asked, coming inside from the porch.

“I can’t...I’m fuckin’ worried,” you expressed, breathing out your words.

“Y/n, he’ll be fine. He’s dealt with his dad before. He’ll come back in two days, tops,” John B suggested.

You frowned, but didn’t respond, just sat down on the bed, staring at the couch JJ sleeps on.

“Hey guys,” Sarah says tiredly, coming in and hugging John B.

You rolled your eyes, she’s here, while JJ isn’t.

John B smiled and said something about starting a fire for her, then headed outside.

Sarah approached you slowly, then sat down next to you, hesitantly.

“What?” You said.

“You really care about him. I get it,” Sarah said.

“I just don’t want him getting the shit kicked out of him,”

“I know, that’s how I feel about John B,” Sarah agreed.

You scoffed lightly, trying not to provoke her, “You’ve known John B for like 2 days, Sarah,”

“Yes...but I know I’d protect him...like he did for you,”

“John B stopped me from going to JJ’s because he doesn’t think I can handle his dad. I’m also not going to abandon JJ just because his dad’s a tool,”

“His dad does drugs?” Sarah asked.

“Among other things,” you mumbled.

“Well I’m sure John B had good intentions,” Sarah argued.

“Sarah, it’s not your place,” you told her.

Suddenly, Pope walked in, also looking worried. When he saw you his eyes widened.

“Hey, can I talk to you? It’s about JJ,” Pope started.

You jumped up subtly and quickly got towards Pope, “yeah what’s up?”

“He wasn’t at his place,” Pope told you quietly.

“What?! You went there?!” You exclaimed.

“Shh! Yeah...I think something bad happened. Like maybe Barry got him. I don’t know. I’m just worried,”

“Yeah same. I just want him safe. So what do you think we should do?”

Pope shrugged at your question, “we could scout out his place again. You go there, I’ll check Barry’s.”

“If we’re going to do this you can’t tell John B. He’ll freak if he finds out I was anywhere near JJ’s place,” you mentioned.

“I don’t know, seems like the more people know the greater our chance of survival is,”

“Look, I just don’t want John B playing the overprotective brother all night. I want to find my friend,” you assured.

“Fine. But send out a letter to my parents when I die, Barry is one scary ass dude,” Pope says.

“Ugh...okay...maybe we don’t have to go to JJ’s I mean, we already know he’s not there. And I can indirectly find out if Barry has him,”

“Indirectly?” Pope questions.

“Through Rafe. I should probably go alone though, he’d be more inclined to talk,”

“Shit, Y/n...I hate to say that’s a good plan. Because dealing with Rafe can get messy, John B would kill me right now-“

“If this works..he won’t be so overprotective, and you won’t have to worry. And anyway, let’s go get out best friend back,”

-

You pulled at the hem of your crop top, secretly wishing it would cover the rest of your midriff. There was some pop song playing up the walk way of the country club. You sighed.

“Hi! Uh excuse me! Members only beyond this point,” some worker mentioned to you, blocking you from entering.

“I’m actually here with Rafe Cameron? You know him? Or maybe you know Ward-“

“Yes, alright, he’s in the private suite,” the worker said and quickly turned away.

You nodded and walked slowly, past the bar and to where a group of privileged boys were laughing.

“Uh Hey. Rafe can I talk to you? In priv-“ you stopped yourself when you saw a sick smile grow on his face.

“Hello Y/n! So glad you came here! More pogues to join the fun,” he exclaimed, sniffling something under his nose.

“More pogues?” You asked, confused.

“You’re John B’s sister right?..Sorry how rude of me, I’m Topper. I was just thinkin about the revenge I could get on him by messing with you,” he laughed, eyeing you.

You tried not to look afraid, swallowing hard.

“There’s no need for that!” Rafe paused, “it was the guy who put a gun to your head that needs the reprimanding. That’s what he’s here for isn’t it?” Rafe chuckled, putting his arm around you.

You grabbed his wrist gently and pulled him off, “JJ’s here?!”

Rafe raised his eyebrows, his amusement only growing, “JJ, my man! Come out and serve me my mai tai!”

You looked around, and soon, as Rafe said, JJ came out behind the bar, his head was hanging low. He served the boys some drinks, not even making eye contact with you.

You were in utter shock. He didn’t have the country club uniform on, so you knew this wasn’t a legit job. Just a way of stripping JJ’s pride.

“What-What are you doing?” You ask JJ, dumbfoundedly.

JJ looks down, ignoring you. His face is littered with bruises, and cuts on the weakest points of those. It hurt you to see him like this, battered. And all of his pride and cocky happiness gone.

“What the hell? You think not treating JJ like a human is fair revenge?” You tried not to let your voice crack.

“We didn’t even beat him up yet! I was gonna have my fun,” he paused rolling up his sleeves, “you’ll stay for the show, won’t you?”

At that, Kelce, Topper and some other dude grab JJ and hold him up in a position for Rafe. JJ struggles, trying to hold out for you.

“Very Rafe of you,” you rolled your eyes.

Rafe muttered some things about how he was going to punch JJ. Instantly, you stepped infront of Rafe’s tall figure. You grab his fist in both of your hands, “Don’t hurt him,” you ordered.

You though you saw a flash of hurt or sympathy flash in Rafe’s eyes. But what he says next destroys everything you thought.

“Move out of the way...or I’ll let Topper do what we’ve all been thinking ever since we saw you in that red bikini,” Rafe seethes angerly.

“I can’t get that image out of my brain, yo,” Kelce added, smirking.

JJ’s jaw clenched, he hated this. Hated how you had to come save him, hated how they talked about you like some object. You weren’t, you were a amazing person to him inside and out.

“Fuck off!” You shouted, shoving Rafe’s shoulders back aggressively. Subconsciously knowing your exits.

“Wanna say that again, sweetheart?” Rafe exclaimed, he wrapped his hands around your neck, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin, “why do Pogues always get in fights they don’t belong?” He seethed.

You whimpered at the pain he was giving you, then Rafe shoved you against the floor, two feet away from where they were about to beat JJ.

You took a few deep breaths before interfering, you weren’t going to give up. Not on JJ. Like you did before.

JJ notices you stand up, and walk over to put yourself in the fight again.

“Get out of here, Y/n,” JJ warned, shoving against his confinement.

“Rafe, please! Don’t you have better things to do? I mean..what would your dad think-“ you were just thinking on your toes, you didn’t expect to activate him.

“You watch your mouth, pogue,” he fumed.

“Make me, asshole,” you stated, remaining completely unfazed at the threat his body alone was posing.

That’s when he snapped. His whole body lunged towards you, you jumped back. But he caught you, his chest against yours as he forced your back into the nearest wall.

“Get away from her!” JJ shouted, thrashing more violently against the group of boys.

“I have her right where I want her,” Rafe said, both of his hands were on either side of your head, closing you in.

You really wished John B was here.

“Hit him,” Rafe ordered, nonchalantly.

The kook boys responded.

Your eyes widened in panic, “NO!”

-

CH.II if you like fluff

CH.II if you prefer angst.

[riotwritesthings]

song and dance number not included

WinterIron, T, 1.9k, crack, this is just crack, banter, vague nonpowered AU | A03

Once upon a time @gayspacesprinkles made this post. And fun fact about me I will write basically anything Ant says ahaha ILUBRO.

I know this has already been done better don’t fight me I just wanna make everything crack

Title: song and dance number not included Collaborator Name: Riot @buckybarnesbingo Square Filled: U4, One Night Stand @starkbucksbingo Square Filled: N1, World Domination Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags & Triggers: Crack, banter Summary: Bucky has seen some wild things in his time as a Professional Cuddle Buddy. Nothing beats finding himself in Tony Stark’s penthouse with the sleep deprived genius himself. Word Count: 1,897

-

Bucky steps off the elevator, into the giant penthouse, and he is 90% sure that this is some kind of elaborate prank. Ten minutes from now someone is going to be shoving a waiver in his face and demanding to broadcast his embarrassing surprised face on national TV.

Because no way does someone like Tony Stark need to hire a cuddling agency.

He takes another couple steps, and there’s no cameras. There’s nothing, just a giant empty penthouse, and Bucky glances down at his phone to confirm that yep, he is in the right place.

He’s just about to turn and leave when a face pops up over the back of the couch.

The first thing Bucky notices is the big doe eyes, warm brown and huge like a Disney character, but so sad. The second thing he notices are the bags under the eyes, deep and dark like bruises, like they’ve been there for a while.

The fact that he’s just staring dumbly at Tony Stark is actually the fifth thing Bucky notices, after the insane lower lashes and the fluffy hair.

Luckily the man is apparently as sleep deprived as he looks, because he just blinks at Bucky for a couple seconds and by the time he speaks Bucky has mostly gotten his brain back online.

“Please tell me you’re really not a hooker,” Tony says, squinting at him, voice rough and a little whiny as he adds “I literally just want a hug.”

Bucky sputters out a laugh, rocking on his heels as he says “I solemnly swear I am not a prostitute. Though I do give great hugs.”

“Awesome,” Tony says with a happy sigh and flails his arms up over the couch, making grabby hands at him.

“Did you wanna move somewhere more comfortable?” Bucky asks, rounding the modernist monstrosity of furniture that is the couch. When Tony opens his mouth, suspicious look on his face, Bucky rolls his eyes and says “Still not a prostitute.”

Tony snaps his mouth shut again with a sheepish look, then huffs out a soft laugh.

“This is fine,” he says, sitting up fully and patting the spot between himself and the arm of the couch, “It’s just me here, I end up falling asleep out here half the time anyways.”

Which is... kind of a sad thought, actually. This penthouse seems huge, too big for one person, and based on the dark circles under Tony’s eyes he doesn’t get much sleep anywhere.

Bucky has barely dropped onto the couch before Tony is plastering himself to Bucky’s side, surprisingly strong arms looping around his waist and his face pressing into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Okay, start the clock,” Tony says, already going limp against his side.

“Hold on,” Bucky says with a laugh, twisting to the side slightly so he can lean back into the corner of the couch and get his arms around Tony in return, pulling him in a little closer and nearly fumbling his phone in the process. “Is that comfortable, um, Mr- Ow.”

“Just Tony,” Tony says, peeking up at him sourly and removing his impressively pointy finger from Bucky’s side, “unless you want to be ‘Mr Cuddle-Buddy’, that is.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Bucky says with another laugh, guiding Tony’s head back down to his chest. “I’m Bucky, though, for the record,” he adds.

“What are you, a Disney character?” Tony asks, voice muffled as he nuzzles into the curve of Bucky’s shoulder and then quickly blurts out “please play with my hair.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be asked twice, burying the fingers of his free hand in Tony’s messy curls, soft and wild like Tony has been running his own hands through it.

“Mm, perfect,” Tony sighs as he pulls his legs up onto the couch, curls himself into a neat little ball against Bucky’s side.

Bucky lifts his phone just enough to see the screen and punches the shortcut to set an alarm for three hours. “Okay, now you’re on the clock," he says, and then wedges his phone into the couch near his head where the armrest meets the back.

“You are already getting marked highly recommended,” Tony slurs out, and Bucky laughs softly. “Seriously, you are like 90% muscle how are you this soft.”

“It’s my specialty,” Bucky says dryly and Tony’s answering laugh shakes his whole body.

“Shh, I’m mentally composing my review,” Tony says, patting lazily at his chest.

“Out loud,” Bucky can’t help pointing out.

“Yes,” Tony says, lifting his hand again to wave it slightly as he talks, “Now where was I- Ah yes, guaranteed ‘not’ a prostitute-”

“-I could hear those air quotes-”

“Very warm,” Tony continues, completely ignoring his interruption except for the way his hand flails a little harder, “Possibly a Disney character."

“Pretty sure I’m not, someone woulda told me by now,” Bucky argues, grinning helplessly and pressing his fingers a little harder into Tony’s scalp.

“Oh, you definitely are,” Tony says with a happy sigh, rubbing his nose against Bucky’s chest, “The only question is, with a name like that, you’re either an adorable animal sidekick, or a villain. Possibly both.”

“What-“ Bucky objects around a sputtering laugh, “I don’t think there was actually a question there.”

Tony tilts his chin up just enough to give Bucky a sleepy glare as he says “Well, which one is it, is the question! You planning world domination?”

“Yes. My plan begins with cuddling you into submission.”

“Well it's working,” Tony says happily, and his expression really does look lighter than it had when Bucky first got here, even if he does still look exhausted. “But when is the song and dance number?”

“Later,” Bucky says with a snort, “It’s my dramatic exit.”

“Or you gotta pay extra, right? In the back room?” Tony asks with a grin and a lazy wink that’s really more of a slow, uncoordinated blink.

“Not a stripper either,” Bucky huffs with a roll of his eyes, resisting the urge to tug at Tony’s hair.

“Too bad,” Tony says with a dreamy sigh, and Bucky really does pull at Tony’s hair a little in admonishment even as he laughs.

Tony continues his rambling ‘review’ amid Bucky’s protests until his warm, teasing voice slowly tapers away, and an hour in he’s fast asleep, snoring quietly into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky is torn.

On the one hand, Tony probably wants to be awake for the time he’s paying for. On the other, he looks so tired.

Waking him up would probably be a crime, and despite Tony’s claims Bucky is not actually a Disney villain.

So he wiggles down a little more against the arm of the couch, slow and careful even though he figures that if Tony does wake up, he has two more hours to fall back asleep if that’s what he wants.

Bucky certainly wouldn’t mind, Tony is warm and pleasantly heavy against his side, draped over his chest, and he looks so much younger when his face is softened with sleep.

He looks so different in real life, so much more real than he looks on TV. So much smaller, curled up into a tiny ball on his giant couch, in his big empty penthouse.

Tony’s hair is a mess of fluffy curls, so soft as Bucky continues running his fingers through it, the muscles of his back strong under Bucky’s other palm.

When Bucky’s alarm goes off it’s startlingly loud in the quiet of the penthouse, and even though Bucky has to fumble with it a bit before he turns it off Tony doesn't do anything more than make a quiet, sleepy sound and wiggle in a little closer.

Bucky hesitates for a second, glancing down at Tony’s peaceful face, and then wedges his phone back into the couch.

He was going to make this his last appointment of the night anyways. He’ll just stay until Tony wakes up.

Bucky wakes up staring at the incredibly high ceiling of Tony Stark’s penthouse, bathed in early morning light.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky groans quietly to himself.

“Yeah, I actually get that a lot,” comes the voice from somewhere around his sternum, and when Bucky tips his chin down it’s to find Tony with his chin propped against Bucky’s chest, giving him a thoughtful look.

He looks a little less tired, bags beneath his eyes a little less pronounced, gorgeous even with crease marks on his cheek from Bucky’s shirt. Even if there is something wary in his expression.

“Hi,” Bucky says stupidly, still trying to blink away the grogginess in his brain and wincing when his neck aches sharply. That’s what he gets for accidentally spending all night with his head tipped way back against the arm of the couch.

“Hi,” Tony says back, and his big Bambi eyes dart to the side for just a second before he says “I’m not wholly unfamiliar with the one night stand, but I must admit we usually make it further than the couch. Fully dressed. What-“

“If you accuse me of bein’ a hooker again, ‘m gonna roll you right off this couch,” Bucky says before he can wake up enough to stop himself, and while he’s busy mentally cringing Tony’s eyes go wide with recognition.

“Ah fuck,” Tony groans while his cheeks flush an appealing, distracting pink, “What’s the overtime charge look like for top rated pro cuddlers?”

“Nah, don’ worry about it,” Bucky says quickly, finally untangling his fingers from Tony’s hair so he can rub over his eyes, “sorry, should’a woken you up-“

“So you’re saying you’re off the clock?” Tony interrupts, one eyebrow raised in an incredulous look, “You stayed off the clock?”

“I’m- um,” Bucky sputters awkwardly, and then realizes he has no excuse and sheepishly finishes with “Yes?”

“Even after I’m pretty sure I called you a prostitute at least three times?” Tony asks, and he still looks mildly baffled but there’s a smile growing on his face.

“It was five,” Bucky corrects, smiling back helplessly, “Once by callin’ me a lady of the evening, which, incorrect on multiple counts.”

“Right, I remember now,” Tony says slowly, and there is a devious look in his eye as he adds “We decided you’re an animated cow.”

“It was a horse, an’ I think you know it,” Bucky says with a mock-glare, gently pinching Tony’s ear and then tightening his arm around Tony’s back when he unexpectedly bursts into wild giggles.

When Tony settles down again he digs his chin into Bucky’s sternum with a happy sigh. His expression goes thoughtful, chewing on his bottom lip, and Bucky tries really hard not to get distracted.

They’re so close that Bucky can just barely feel the way Tony’s breath shakes nervously on the inhale, and then he asks “So, what are your feelings on breakfast?”

“Important,” Bucky blurts quickly, heart jumping in his chest, “Very important. Especially if I’m going to accomplish world domination today.”

“I knew it!” Tony crows victoriously, pushing himself upright and elbowing Bucky in the gut in the process. He grins happily in response to Bucky’s pained grunt and climbs to his feet, grabbing Bucky’s hand and giving it a tug. “C’mon,” he whines when Bucky moves not at all, “we need to go raid my kitchen. I want to get on your good side before you take over the world, I’m hoping it’ll get me a good spot in the dance number.”

“Yeah, I think that can be arranged,” Bucky says, grinning wide as he lets himself be pulled to his feet.

[captainjimothycarter]

Double Trouble

AN: Total crack fic thanks to the Steggy Discord and my love for Chesternut. Chester Phillips/Sarah Rogers just makes sense. The shipname, not so much.

-

Link to AO3

-

Peggy and Steve have an announcement at the same time that Sarah and Chester do. Chester just reacts differently, is all.

-

“Sarah, there’s something we need to tell you,” Peggy said, not long after she and Steve had sat down for breakfast.

“Funny, Chester and I have something we need to tell you, but you go first, love.” Sarah had their back to them, finishing flipping the last pancake onto a growing stack. “Too bad Mr. Grump didn’t get home until four in the morning last night.”

Steve cringed slightly, sharing a look with Peggy while his ma wasn’t looking. Sarah didn’t know right off that her son was Captain America - or at least Steve didn’t think so. He liked to keep it that way, not wanting to involve his mother in the dangerous and hectic lifestyle that was being a hero. Phillips had stayed late last night, finishing up paperwork and arguing with some politician or another on the phone while Steve had gotten in just as late to the office after another mission. Peggy had fallen asleep on the couch, one of Phillips’ jackets tucked around her like a blanket.

“She’s under my care, course I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t freeze to death in this office,” Phillips grumbled when Steve picked up the jacket to hand it back to him. It was the closest they’d get to Phillips saying he cared about them during work hours.

“I didn’t say anything,” Steve cheesed, both of them instantly hushing when Peggy groaned and started to wake up from Steve’s presence.

“I don’t know what you two do in that office that keeps him so late,” Sarah continued, finally turning back around to look at the pair sitting side by side. “Or should I say, I don’t know what the three of you do in that office to stay so late? You look exhausted, you shouldn’t have come over so early, then!”

Peggy laughed just to brush the concern off, rubbing Steve’s thigh under the table. “Well, we couldn’t wait any longer and I didn’t want to call so early to wake you two up. Not with Phill-Chester getting in so late.”

“Alright, then. What’s the big news?” Sarah mused, pushing the stack of pancakes on the table and walking around to sit down with her steaming cup of tea. Ginger tea, by what Steve could smell. Peggy drank the same kind, ever since…

“We’re pregnant!”

Peggy was beaming from ear to ear, her hand laying over her belly. They were just a handful of weeks in, but she was already starting to show. They had no idea how the serum would have any effect on her or their unborn children and it was just a guessing game.

Steve’s face fell as his Ma didn’t say a word, just looking between them. They were married and even if that wasn’t the case, Ma loved Peggy. “Ma? You alright? You heard Peggy right, we’re…”

“No, no I heard you,” Sarah mumbled, rubbing her fingertips over the handle of her mug. “It’s just... we’re pregnant too. Chester and I.”

“You’re kidding!” Steve breathed. “I’m gonna have a sibling? Ma, that’s wonderful!”

He knew growing up he always wanted a sibling, having some jealousy for Bucky and his always seeming to grow family. He knew his Ma had tried once or twice with a guy or two she was dating, but her pregnancy with him had been so hard on her.

“Sarah, that’s amazing. When are you due? The doctor thinks we’re due near the end of October,” Peggy explained, standing up to wrap Sarah in a hug.

“The same time! Little pumpkins!” Sarah hugged her daughter-in-law tight as she could, kissing her cheek. “Oh, I am so happy for the two of you!”

“We’re happy for you, Ma. Seriously. I’m so glad you two can have a child,” Steve assured his Ma, pulling both of them into a gentle hug. “Excuse me, but I need to use the bathroom.”

“He’s going to have a slight freak out, isn’t it?” Sarah asked when she heard the bathroom door upstairs close. “Always the same, my Stevie.”

“That much hasn’t changed. You should’ve seen him when I told him. I asked Mr. Jarvis to bake me a cinnamon bun and left it in the oven for Steve to find. He panicked for a good hour, between being too happy and-”

Peggy paused at the sound of feet hitting the floor, following shuffling noises. She watched her boss and father-in-law shuffle into the kitchen, wearing pajamas, and a grumpy look. He made a confirmation grump at them before leaving to grab the paper.

Phillips was only gone for two minutes before he returned, paper secured under his arm. He looked more alert, eyes straight on her. 

“Please tell me I misheard you, Carter. Please tell me that you are not pregnant.” At Peggy’s blank look, he groaned and scrubbed at his face. “I forbid it. You’re too young to be pregnant Carter!”

Peggy huffed and rolled her eyes. “Forbid it? I’m 27, sir. And married.”

Phillips threw the paper down on the table with more force than necessary. “So?! That’s still too young to be fucking pregnant, never the mind married! Please tell me it’s Rogers’”

“Chester!” Sarah chided, rolling her eyes too. “Calm down, love. I know you care about them, but they are adults.”

“Calm down? No, Sarah, love, these are-are two young adults in love! Pregnant! No, I forbid it!”

All Peggy could do was give him a look that stated are-you-kidding-me. “Who else would I be fucking? And forewarning, my hormones are always a mess. So be careful how you answer that.”

“Great, just great,” Phillips sighed, rubbing at his temples. “I get a child and a grandchild. I already have an aneurysm named after you two, why not add two more!”

Phillips’ eyes snapped to Steve the second the unfortunate man had come back downstairs. “Rogers!”

Steve’s eyes widened, not taking his Ma nor his wife’s frantic look of get out of here for granted and tailing it back upstairs.

“Oh hell no, boy, get back here!” Phillips half-shouted, storming up the steps after Steve.

“He’s just very overprotective of you guys,” Sarah tried to soothe, rubbing her hand up and down Peggy’s arm. “Add the fact he’s slept maybe three hours. He’ll calm down once the news settles in. I just hope he’s not too hard on Steve.”

“Steve can handle it,” Peggy sighed, too exhausted to chase after the pair. Phillips can have his overprotective, adopted dad syndrome moment. “He’s handled much worse.”

-

Steve grunted as Phillips pounded another fist into the door. “Will you stop? We’re married, Chester! It’s not like it was on accident and we have to have a shotgun wedding - if Peggy would even want that!”

“You listen here, boy! I walked her down the aisle, I married you too off. It doesn’t mean you two can-can go creating babies!” Phillips snapped, hitting the door again.

“Well, I ain’t complaining about you knocking my Ma up!” Steve countered. “You two are happy and married!”

“That’s different and you know it!”

“How?! How is that different?”

That seemed to stutter Phillips some, enough for him to stop hitting the door, enough for Steve to partway crack the door and look out to see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Poor guy was really looking his age and showing the same panic Steve had been filtering on and off for the last few weeks.

“Because I didn’t know! About you two - I thought...I almost sent her on a possible dangerous assignment just last night, Steve!” Chester grumbled. “Plus, you two...you’re so young if you get hurt or-or Peggy. We’re older, we’re more settled, to a point. And I-”

“You’re terrified, huh?” Steve honestly asked. He nodded in agreement to Chester’s nod. “Yeah, I am too. Look, I know we’re young and things are a mess because of our...situation, who I am, and what naught but it’s not like we won’t have help. Hell, I’m terrified too. It’s not like I had a good pop to look up to. Bucky’s dad was the closest I’d get. You have...been amazing for my Ma, for us.”

“I guess we both just gotta figure this out, huh? How to be parents,” Chester sighed. “Thank god for our ladies, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, hands shoved into his pockets. “Thank God for Ma and Peggy. We’d be lost without ‘em. The only thing we can do is do right by them, by our kids. We’re lucky to have the ladies in our lives that we do.”

[ambiguousdisorderken]

christmas time.

what about dean and cas going christmas shopping together huh? what about cas buying stupidly cute plushies and board games for jack and dean saying how the kid's neither a toddler nor an actual kid blah blah so obviously dean ends up swiping his credit card to pay for an overpriced set of legos. it's star wars, okay? which does nothing to erase the smug look from cas’ face.

he also ends up paying for all the plushies and board games and tees (”seriously cas, spongebob?” to which cas flatly states “jack likes yellow”) and (fugly) sweaters and a pack of ridiculous reindeer antlers headbands. for fuck’s sake. is this the type of person dean is now?

then again, he could be doing worse.

on the way to the car, dean asks what cas wants for christmas, but cas only smiles and says there's no need for dean to trouble himself with that. dammit cas. 

"so what, opening boxes and tearing wrappers off, that’s just for jack?" he half jokes, hoping for cas to hint at whatever he may need or want for himself, anything. if cas can name it, dean can get it.

"well, he is our kid, dean. i believe it's common for parents to just sit and watch throughout the unwrapping process." cas states matter-of-factly. "isn't it?" he adds, maybe to get confirmation.

definitely to get some sort of response. not whatever dean is offering, which is... nada.

cas just stands there, nose reddened by the cold and hair wind-swept.

as if he hasn't flipped dean's world topsy-turvy with that one array of words. cas is, for all it matters, jack's father, no questions. and, objectively, dean knows jack is family as much as sam and cas are.

hell, dean feeds jack properly (he’s hitting the produce section more often these days) and watches crappy shows and cartoons because jack wants to (scooby-doo will outlive us all, bitch) and he even taught jack how to drive, the memory of which still shocks him to this day, trusting baby into the kid’s uneducated hands. as for jack, he’s called him ‘dad’ on occasions, and dean treasures deeply each and every one of them, but it’s not something he can brag about with the cashier at the local liquor store that also sells nougats or the one at the grocery shop that carries a specific brand of juice or the one at the 24/7 pharmacy on main where he went get cough drops when jack came down with a mundane yet nasty case of flu, okay. so maybe, if only a little, he really is going all paternal on the kid. sue him. but this... put in simpler words, viewed from cas' perspective? if cas is jack's father and jack calls dean his dad and –okay sammy is also raising the kid, but his family has never been nothing if a little dysfunctional, and the dude’s been spending an awful lot of time at eileen’s, whatever– then that means–

"dean, are you okay?" cas asks tilting his head a little, and it tugs something in dean’s heart. the gesture reminds him of jack. their goddamn child. the same one they're raising. together. and who’s the reason that, three days before christmas, he and cas went to multiple jam-packed stores at the frigging mall, that’s more than an hour and a half drive away from the bunker to buy a bunch of christmas presents.

fuck.

overcome the brain-freeze, dean realizes they're a family. and the word, his long-term security blanket for all emotional outpours, takes a whole ass new meaning.

a family.

they even have the damn cutesy dog.

dean stares at cas and eyes the excessive amount of shopping bags he's holding. he smiles, and cas mirrors it.

if dean was corny, he'd think of how the pale sky threatening to snow makes cas look angelic again, now that his grace has been lost to the empty. but dean's not a pathetic sap, so he settles for the thought of cas looking like a very human blessing, as well as the only gift dean will ever want, not only for christmas but for all the days he's got left to live on this earth. and in heaven. maybe for forever.

"'m okay" he finally replies with a smile stretching the words. "more than okay, cas."

cas nods, quiet contentment wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

definitely for forever.

on the way to the bunker– no, on the way home, they make a few stops to gather supplies for the unforgettable dinner that dean has in mind (pie trifecta is what's got him the most excited. it's pie!) and some shit to decorate too.

cas goes on merrily talking about their holiday plans and jack's childish enthusiasm for everything christmas related, which, in turn, makes cas look also childlike, and damn if that isn't making dean feel giddy too.

dean feels drunk, like he drank one too many cups of that frozen kiddie champagne they saw at the store with elsa smirking at the front of the label. he laughs at nothing, at everything. cas is right there with him, echoing the sheer self-indulgent joy that suffocates them.

he veers for one last stop. this is a sort of first for all of them, this type of christmas. it has a different, warmer, tone to it. safe and mushy and loving and all that. so what if he wants to get it right?

on the radio, mariah the-traitor carey, proclaims, in that 90s pop glitzy voice of hers, all i want for christmas is you.

as they pull in at the tree farm snowflakes begin to fall gently on the windshield. with the engine dead, the temperature has dropped low enough to have their breaths turn into misty clouds, yet dean is burning under the collar of his jacket.

fuck.

he's a grown-up man in his forties and he’s freaking out. except, he isn’t.

except he's in some sort of magic trance because right in this very second he feels – no, he is a teenage boy, sweating. breathing all but forgotten and reduced to a nervous wreck, a train wreck. scared shitless.

he's a boy in his car about to kiss his crush.

and just like a reckless teenager, he does. he kisses cas, not before getting a silent confirmation from cas' tentative yet hopeful gaze and chapped pink lips.

he doesn’t know how long they kiss, it could’ve gone on endlessly, with how smooth their lips glide against each other despite the stubble and with how cas comes up for air to hold dean’s face in both his hands, with how he speaks those same words he confessed not so long ago, this time with nothing but his devoted touch and his all too caring eyes. it could’ve gone on endlessly, but it slowed down once the windshield got covered in white and the sky turned from light blue to a silvery hue.

cas knows, he does. he’s always known. but dean’s done with truths left unspoken, and if he’s happy with what he’s got right now, then saying it will give him the golden ticket right into fucking paradise on earth. it should be difficult, but it’s not. it comes to him as easy as a lovefool’s sigh.

“i love you too, cas. i love you so much.”

this year they won’t only have a christmas, they will actually celebrate it. and no, dean won’t need the excuse of standing beneath the mistletoe to kiss cas – former angel of the lord, now father of his child– but he’ll be damned if he won’t do it anyway just to wring out a squeal of surprise from their kid. jack will be over the moon, dean’s sure of it.

he couldn’t be doing any better.