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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Just As Clueless As You

Warnings: cigarettes, underage drinking, past child abuse (for you already know who), and the angst and pain that will come with time

Summary: Emily Prentiss stumbles upon a boy outside of the library one morning and does him a harmless favor. A few months later a poor seating choice makes him her class partner. The rest... she has no idea.

Word Count: 3,057

It's Not Hotchniss-- you'll just have to take my word on that for now

Freshman Year August 1989-April 1990 Semester One: August- December

��Reciprocity”

Waking up on a real mattress is the first dead giveaway that the bed she wakes up in is not her own. Anyone unfortunate to fall for the absolute scheme that is getting a college education knows the back-breaking lumps that are the “mattresses'' supplied to each dorm room on unGodly squealing cheap bed frames that give a shout with each movement. But she’s laying on a real mattress… with no bed frame. She’s really just laying on a mattress laid out right on the floor. For a moment, looking up at a ceiling with water damage and cobwebs she criticizes some of the life choices that she has made getting here. If it were up to her, Emily Prentiss wouldn’t have come to college at all. She isn’t the kind of girl worth wasting that sort of energy on, not when she’s pretty enough to get by on looks and has her mother’s career to fall back on. Her hobbies lie in illegal affairs-- smoking pot and getting drunk. It makes her incredibly social but she’s not book-smart. School just isn’t her thing. (Which is entirely untrue but sometimes self-image distorts lies too near fact hood). Propping herself up on one arm she gathers the sheets up in a bunch in her hand, covering her naked chest from any of the occupants of the room. To call it a room might be a stretch, there’s hardly any room for the mattress on the floor and the desk by her left. She’s also alone she realizes by scanning the room and catching sight of the alarm clock on the floor she understands why. It’s nearly nine-thirty in the morning-- everyone within a ten-mile radius of her is probably in class right now. Well, if you absolve the students like her: campus’s soon to be drop-outs. With a groan she tosses the sheets off of herself, shifting around the room until she can find her clothes and get out of this disgusting house. Without the protection of the sheets, goosebumps break out across her skin. Her naked body shivering against it as she stretches out, raising her arms above her head and heaving a deep yawn. There’s a sticky note waiting for her, informing her that there isn’t any food around but feel free to grab herself some coffee downstairs. She won’t be doing that but at least whoever the guy is he isn’t her typical sleazeball sort. They typically have her walking back home in the dark as soon as they’re done having their fun.

Her clothes have been neatly folded at the end of the bed, even her underwear which is really a surprise. Folding herself back into them, she grimaces at the distinctly dirty feel that they have. The thick scent of booze and cigarette smoke clinging to them doesn’t help. With no hair tie in sight, she knows better than to waste her time looking, she pushes her bangs back with her hands settling on using a pencil she finds on the floor to twist it up and hold it in place. As she’s sliding the pencil against her scalp, securing her hair she spots a joint discarded by the edge of the mattress. She doesn’t waste the energy in contemplating stealing it, just slots it into her back pocket. That will be fun for later, her pregame for the party tonight. A fun little treat for last night. She even finds a Zippo which gets placed in her joint’s neighboring pocket. A real nice treat, indeed. It takes her a moment to get out of the house, the very last thing that she wants is to be seen by any of the other occupants. For the most part, the coast is clear. She thinks she might hear someone downstairs puking but from the stairs to the main door she’s in the clear. There’s no one in sight. With a glance over her shoulder she grabs a round, amber-filled glass she spots sitting turned over on its side by the couch. Giggling as she tucks it under her arm and makes a run for it. The chill of the October morning shakes her thin bones with its just present enough touch ghosting over her bare legs and arms. The weather rarely permits such exposing clothing anymore but the Crown Royal tucked under her arm will warm her right back up, she just needs to make it to the dorms. No sense in wasting good whiskey on a little shivering, not when she has a comforter to crawl into and a hangover to nurse with something cheap and clear. The first time that Emily Prentiss meets Aaron Hotchner he’s fighting the lighter cupped in his hand, standing with his back to the light breeze. He’s shaking from a chill despite it being nearly seventy degrees out and sunny, gripping under his breath and bobbing the unlit cigarette between his teeth as he does so. The large sweater he wears over his boney shoulders does well to hide his thin body but can not save onlookers from the haunted bags under his eyes. They’re the first thing that she notices as she steps up to him. Without a word she flips the lid of her Zippo open, lighting it with an easy flick and holding the flame out for him. He glances at her-- all bloodshot, sleepless brown eyes-- and leans in, fingers trembling as he cups his palms around the Zippo for a protective barrier. Until the end of the cigarette burns bright red and he pulls in a breath, stepping back to get a good shuddering inhale before he pulls off and offers around a plume of smoke, “thanks.” His voice is rasped from the smoke he’s just inhaled but pinched from disuse and he can’t honestly remember the last person he actually talked to. She shrugs, it’s no sweat off her back. This isn’t even her Zipp, well it is now but she didn’t buy it and no one bought it for her. As a semi-excuse for some of her riskier behavior, she made a vow to herself to never let a man put his hands down her pants without her getting something out of it too. Since it’s rarely an orgasm she’s the proud owner of many men’s oversized articles of clothing, small knick-knacks from nightstands, this Zippo, and the joints they leave unattended. It’s just simple reciprocity. “Cigarette?” he offers, holding the box out to her. She lingers just long enough that he assumes she’s a smoker, doing that sort of awkward shuffle that fellow smokers take on before they ask to “bum a smoke”. The same one he does when he runs short at the end of the month and is pretending to have the forethought to consider putting his money to food and not cigarettes. But she shakes her head, tucking her Zippo back into her pocket and walking away. He’d consider it weird if he didn’t know he’d do the same thing. He hasn’t got the time to be messing with skimpily dressed girls, especially

the sort that looks the kind of trouble that she is. He’s here on a pretentious scholarship. The sort that doesn’t blink twice before dismissing students from their program for poor grades and he might have gotten himself here but he is no one’s definition of a genius. He’s going to smoke this cigarette and bask in the sun for as long as he can before going back into the looming walls of the library and to work on an article reflection for his Sociology class. Which he already knows he will get a 92% on because they’re facing the ass end of November and he’s gotten a single hundred on the twenty or so of these reviews he’s written and all the rest the same score of 92. It’s nothing to complain about, that’s a nice score to be sat at, but it irks him just a little to be planted so firmly like that. Unlike Emily Prentiss, his parents could not offer him any real edge or flourish to get him into this college. His father was a lawyer and while he did make great money it was only in the context of the small town they lived in, an impoverished and drug-hungry place. There Aaron was an oddity in every way that a teenager could be-- coming from a household with two college-educated parents, severely underweight from abuse that went entirely unchecked, finding reprieve in the books he could bury himself in, and discovering his best coping mechanism in either the dissociative flick of pages and weight of a book in his hands or chain-smoking. Though he’d never had enough to say to be good at the social aspects smoking can offer. He’s gotten good at standing at the backs of buildings and smoking alone. The stinger, the worst part is that his father has managed to isolate him. Even in death that man never lets him win. According to the will that he left behind his mother can’t give him a dime of the money, nothing to help with tuition or food or to pay for a dorm. If she breaks the terms of his will then she can’t get his pension until Sean’s of age to make decisions about the money. Aaron’s fairly certain that there is nothing legal about that but the will is headed by one of his father’s assistants and everyone in that office was as loyal as dogs to him. Aaron is nothing to them and his mother has never risked anything for him, he knows she won’t start now. Emily is in every way that can be observed by others his opposite. “Knock, knock.” One of the girls from Emily’s floor sticks her head in Emily’s room, flicking on the light to the room without a second thought to the woman buried under the sheets. “Girly,” she says with a shake of her head. “When was the last time you went to class?” She might not be Emily’s closest friend on the floor but she knows she hasn’t seen Emily out of this room for anything more than liquor and parties. Which is none of her business but how can she even hope to do anything without at least doing assignments? They’ll kick her out. Emily groans from under the safe haven of her bedsheets, picking up her head to squint and see who is bothering her. “What do you want?” she asks. “Food. I was going to go to the dining hall, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come with me.” Emily shakes her head, digging her fingers into the tender flesh of her temples as the light makes her head throb and her stomach queasy. She’s hungover and right now she needs to sleep before she self-medicates with the shitty vodka under her pillow and heads to the party they’re having downtown. It’s not a frat party but it’s something and she knows the guy who lives next door. With a groan, she falls back onto her stiff mattress. “I’m good,” she answers. “Catch you another time?” The other girl lingers for just a moment, watching Emily snuggle back into the sheets and she shakes her head. She’s ruining her life. It’s one thing to not place any importance on college, to be the sort of person that just doesn’t see the flourish or point in it. Life is full of balance, not everyone should want to go to college but people like Emily need the balance. People like her need to scrape by and fall flat on their faces-- they need

ups and downs and overwhelming projects to get some sense of what life is actually like. They need a wake-up call and Emily is wasting hers. She’s not strong enough to face the world just yet but if she keeps fucking around like this, nothing her mother does can save her. No money in the world can teach a hard lesson like this one. The night before the meeting she has scheduled with the Dean, the sort that only comes with lots of money and the kind of threats that come from high, scary places, Emily goes out like she always does. Doing exactly as she’d planned: waking up at seven o’clock to shower and apply lipstick that some dumb boy will likely lick and smear off. Placing her bare feet on her cold tiled floor she groans, not even blinking before reaching into her dresser and pulling out Smirnoff she keeps buried under her bras. It stings going down but if she’s patient it’ll dull the splitting ache trying to pry the lobes of her brain open. Burning fingers digging themselves into the soft tissue of her brain. Tonight will end just the last and the one before that. She’ll find a hungry man-- sometimes they look like they’re not waiting for an invite and others that she knows she’s just corrupting-- and let him use her body in exchange for all the liquor she can get down her throat before they can undo her jeans. Wake up, again, in a bed that is not her own and when she’s walking home she’ll find that tall, tree-like kid standing by the back of the library but this time his cigarette will be lit. The expression across his face nearly zin, despite the tears drying against his cheeks. His chin turned up to the sun. She’ll lower her gaze and keep walking. She’s late for her meeting with the Dean. “Miss Prentiss--” Emily recoils, averting her gaze to the old, shitty carpet of the Dean’s office. She hates being called by her last name, hates being something her mother can own. That’s all she’s ever been her entire life, some little flyer for her mother to tac up on her board of accomplishments. An award to float around because motherhood can be commendable if you weaponize it enough. “Emily,” the Dean corrects with a sigh. “You’re on probation, do you understand?” His fingers are steepled on his desk, giving her that look a thousand men before him have given her. She doesn’t even have to look up to know his eyes wander to her breast far too many times to be considered an accident. “I don’t think I have to tell you that this has nothing to do with the school’s faith in your abilities.” Her chest flushes, she can feel the skin heat up under the tone of his voice. Her mother got her into this school, nothing about her grades or her charm. Nothing about Emily is worth anything just the Prentiss she can’t seem to get rid of. “If your grades don’t improve, if you can’t meet the school’s requirements by the end of next semester you will fail out.” He has the most unfortunate voice, so annoying. “Do you understand?” Oh, yeah and he’s a patronizing bastard. She hates it when adults do that shit. Always mocking. Is it not enough they get to listen to themselves go on these long-winded tangents about honor or faith or self-image but to tac that belittling question at the end. To force you to meet their gaze and mumble that you do. All for what? So he can see what her breasts look like when she extends her right hand to shake his? To see if they move when she stands? Fuck him. “Yes, sir,” she says with a nod. “I understand.” She doesn’t shake his hand. Walking out of his office she keeps her head high, refusing to let her emotion show on her face. The heartbreak she feels splitting her chest open. Before she knows it, she’s walking towards the library. She’s never even been inside but she thinks about that boy and the face he’d made this morning. How relaxed he’d looked and she needs that. Needs whatever he found there. To let go of this feeling eating her alive, the sadness she’d told herself she wouldn’t feel when she walked into that office and found that her mother hadn’t even bothered to come. Hadn’t cared to even ask

if Emily was okay. If her behavior was the product of something else. She sinks down against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest, and lets her forehead fall down against them. How could she be so silly? So foolish? Of course, her mother wouldn’t show up to a meeting with the Dean. God, she’s so fucking gullible. So stupid. All she can do is choke on sobs, pulling in shuddering breaths and trying to stifle the sounds she makes. She just wants to burn alive with the anger she feels. To set fire to something and see the destruction. Ruin something. Somewhere between half-expecting the door beside her to fly open and that mess of a boy whose cigarette she’d lit to come out she realizes that she can smell the smoke lingering in the air. He’s had his smoke break and won’t be out anytime soon. For some reason that makes her cry even harder, that she can’t even find comfort in some stranger. But she could just walk into the library and find him, it wouldn’t be that hard. He wears the same thing every time she sees him-- an oversized earth-tone sweater and old jeans. And, as she’s thinking about dragging her sorry ass up and into that library she realizes something. She has the control to go into that building and find the guy. She has the control every night when she goes out to party, to get lost in some boy’s half-assed touches, and cheap liquor. Emily has all of the control. Her mother gave her a second chance, she knows it was purely for the high that old bitch will get when Emily fails out. When Emily finally proves that she’s not good for anything. But she has the control, not her mother. Wiping the tears on her face she pulls in a deep breath and knows. She knows what she’s going to do next. She is going to ruin something. Her mother isn’t right about her. Emily Prentiss turns her face to the sun and she knows exactly what the cigarette boy felt this morning. Release.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #college hotchniss #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #college au

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wormstacheangel · 4 years ago

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Almost: Ch 5

Chapter Summary: Dean hides in Cas's childhood bedroom during the funeral reception. He quickly finds himself having a nice conversation with Mick and - fuck- the dude's actually nice.

Read on tumblr Ch 1 link | Ch 2 link | Ch 3 link | Ch 4 link |

or read it on AO3 link (maybe leave a nice comment?)

Word Count: 2468 More Under The Cut

“Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Dean was sprawled across Cas’s old twin bed, one leg swinging off the edge as he laid on his back holding up one of his old X-Men comics. He muttered a “Fuck” under his breath as he put the book down on his chest before looking up at Mick. The happy husbands-to-be walked in and closed the door behind him.

While Dean wasn't a big fan of the Novak clan - they weren’t so hot of Winchesters and company either - Sam and Charlie couldn’t give a rat’s ass. They both stayed downstairs with Balthazar who’s been the only one to welcome them in. Finding them ‘fascinating’. Whatever the hell that meant. But they were having a good time and Dean wasn’t going to rain on their parade just cause he wasn’t in the mood to mingle.

Instead, he hid in a familiar room, Cas’s childhood bedroom, that looked practically untouched. Even their old snack drawer was still filled with old Halloween candy wrappers.

“Making yourself at home?” Mick asked as he looked around the room. His hands touching the items on the desk. “Oh, didn’t know Castiel read comic books.”

Dean sat up as he ran his hand nervously through his hair. “He - um, well - he doesn’t. I mean he does but he won’t buy them himself. Those are all mine.”

Mick looked at him, eyebrows pushed together as he squinted. “You brought comic books to read?”

“No!” Dean put the comic book he was reading down on the bed as he stood up to walk over to the bookshelf behind the door. He motioned towards the middle row. “These are all mine. I used to bring them so when Cas had to study I wasn’t so bored in his room.”

“Ah.” Was all he said as he looked back at the desk. “So you two spent a lot of time together?”

Dean shrugged, his hands awkwardly digging into his pant pockets. “Yeah, I guess. We did go to high school together.”

“Yes,” Mick looked over at Dean, a bright smile on his face as if he was excited that he knew something about Cas. “His first public school experience! He told me.”

Dean awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah, he got in real trouble when Chuck found out he forged his signature.”

“What?”

“Cas! He um, he forged Chuck’s signature on the school papers.” Dean laughed remembering and walking back to sit on the bed while Mick looked at him, eyes sparkling in curiosity. Dean hated it. “Yeah,” He cleared his throat. “Um, Gabriel and Raphael helped him keep the whole thing a secret from Chuck for almost two years. It wasn’t until Cas got suspended that-”

“Castiel got suspended! He never told me!” Mick grabbed the desk chair and moved it closer to Dean. He looked happy to know more things about Cas and Dean felt himself relax just a little. As much as he was jealous - he was practically hulking out by how damn green he was - he was glad that Mick actually seemed to care about Cas. “Well, go on, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean blinked a few times to catch his thoughts. His face blushing at the memory. “Shit, well, Cas got into a fight.”

“A fight?!”

“Yeah!” Dean laughed. “Some guys were messing with me. Just some dumb guy shit, you know. And someone must have called Cas cause all I remember is my nose cracking under a fist and then seeing the dude get tackled down. Like Cas full-on body slammed that dude to the ground!” Dean’s face hurt from the big grin that stretched over his lips. “Then he was screaming! Man, it was some sight! Never seen him so damn rabid like that since but I had to drag him off the guy before he really gave the guy a concussion.”

“My Castiel did that?” Mick sat back in his chair, in amazement and shock while Dean tried to hide the flinch from those words. Rolling his shoulders back before rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Sure did.” Dean nodded before slowly standing up. “Well, we should head back down-”

“You know,” Mick sighed as he looked down at his hands. “I always feel that Castiel keeps me at a distance. As if he’s still guarding his heart from me.”

Dean falls back on the bed with a huff. For fucks sake, he really doesn’t want to play counselor to a guy he wants to hate. He could easily do the fake nice guy act and tell Mick that maybe Cas just doesn’t love him. That Cas was just a nice guy who has a hard time saying no to people and while that’s true he really doubts that’s why Cas said yes to him. Cas said yes because he loves this pathetic looking guy and Dean just wants him to be happy.

Even if it’s not with him.

Though Mick looked like he already trusted Dean wholeheartedly and it would be so easy - No!

Dean sighed as he scrubbed a hand down his face. Knowing damn well he was gonna regret playing nice but the guilt of being a part of hurting Cas would feel a shit ton worse. “Mick, man, Cas is complicated.”

Mick looked at him with soft round eyes. He was being sincere as fuck and it was annoying. “Not to you.”

“I had practice.” Dean smugly smiled and gave Mick a wink. “Cas is like - fuck how do you even describe that crazy asshole?”

Mick laughed, relaxing into his chair more. “I guess like that but I wouldn’t say he was an asshole.”

Dean laughed and reached to pat Mick on the shoulder. “Oh, then you really don’t know him! If he hasn’t kicked you out of his car in the middle of a rainstorm because you offended his favorite character then just count yourself lucky.”

“He did that to you?” His eyes widened in shock.

“Twice.” Dean held up the two fingers with a grin. “Had to walk home too because he didn’t come back for me.”

Mick and Dean both laughed.

Fuck. Dean thought as he saw the guy wipe tears from his eyes from laughing. Mick really is a great guy and now Dean just wants to help him. If it means he could make Cas happy then that’s all that mattered. He can at least do that for his old best friend.

“He’s an old soul.” Dean continued and pointed at the bookshelf again. “You can check out the rest of the books and see they’re all classics. He won’t admit to it but he also likes cheesy YA books.”

Mick got up to check out the bookshelf, his eyes scanning it up and down before he reached for a random book that caught his eyes.

“He’s a grumpy old man mostly. He hates being wrong and would fight you tooth and nail to prove his point.”

Mick looked up at him and shook his head. “I think me and you really do know two different, Castiels.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that and hopes his heartbreak doesn’t show on his face. “Kinda curious on what your Cas is like.”

“He’s focused.” Mick nods stiffly at him before his face scrunches up. “That’s a sad first description of my fiance, isn’t it?”

Dean laughed before nodding. “Yeah, dude, it is.”

Mick looked so in love though as he smiled at Dean. “It’s stupid, Dean, but I just...since I met him I can’t think of anyone else.”

No. No. I don’t want to hear this. Dean kept that smile on his face as he stood up to maybe distract Mick with a book. Cas usually had dumb bookmarks maybe he can talk about the pressed flowers.

“What about you, Dean?”

“What about me?”

“Did you feel the same when you got married?”

“When I got what?” Dean froze in the middle of the room but before Mick could ask again the door swung open. Shielding Mick from view.

Dean’s eyes meet the baby blue’s that made his stomach flip.

Then Cas smiled at him and it wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be smiling at him like that. Smiling as if Dean was his favorite damn person in the world. As if the hour separation from the last time he saw him was torture for him and seeing Dean was just pure relief. It wasn’t fair.

“Dean.” Cas sighed, his shoulders dropping as his whole expression softened. He looked so relieved and happy to see him that Dean didn’t know what to do with himself. He just stood there like a dumbass as Cas ran into him. Crashing his whole body against Dean’s own and into a big comforting hug.

Then Cas did this laugh - fuck it sounded so unrestrained and heartfelt that it made Dean feel like he was floating - as he hid his face against the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Cas quietly says and the relief in Cas’s voice left Dean more dumbfounded than he already was.

“Wow! Am I getting one of those hugs too, sweetheart?” There was a small strain to Mick’s happy tone.

Cas froze in Dean’s arms - he even heard the dumbass cuss into Dean’s skin - before he pulled away to look back at Mick. Then looked back at Dean, his dumb head tilt - thank god that didn’t change - and squinty eyes asking questions that Dean could hear clear as day.

Dean rolled his eyes. “We were just talking. Don’t get your damn panties in a twist, Cas.”

“I was just asking.” Cas shrugged, a smile in his voice before he walked over to Mick. “I’m glad you two are getting along?”

Dean could hear the damn question in his voice and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His heart was still racing from the few seconds of having Cas so close again. Having him look at him like...like that.

Mick pulled Cas from around the waist and reached to kiss his cheek. It was sweet and Dean saw the red prick Cas’s cheeks.

“We are. I never had a best friend before but I am jealous of your friendship.” Mick looked over at Dean. “Must be nice to have that deep connection with someone.”

Dean looked away. Instead gave his attention to the desk that still had another comic book with a chip bag folded inside to be used as a bookmark.

“Yes.” Cas quietly said before clearing his throat. “Um, why are you both in my room?”

“I just followed Dean here.” Mick quickly answered while Dean nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“You know me, Cas. I can’t stay too long with that creepy vampire clan you have as a family.” Dean winked at him while Cas rolled his eyes.

“Vampires?” Mick asked as he looked between them.

“They’re not vampires.” Cas said at the same time Dean said, “Yeah, you know, bat wings and fangs. The full Twilight!”

“We don’t have...Dean! Stop telling people my family is made up of vampires!”

“I’ll be more worried at the fact that people always easily believe me.”

“Ah,” Mick awkwardly laughed as he wiggled a finger between Cas and Dean. “Is this like an inside joke?”

“No.” “Yes.”

Mick hummed as he dropped his hand. Clearly uncomfortable but he should try stepping into Dean’s shoes.

“How was the burial?” Mick turned to smile at Cas, leaning in to kiss his shoulder, and Dean had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

Just cause he thought the dude was nice doesn’t mean he wants to see that shit.

“It was fine. Nobody really talked.” Cas nodded, his eyes far away as he was thinking about it because he was unsure. Then he blinked a couple of times before turning to look at Dean again. “Which reminds me, Bobby and you are invited to Dad’s will reading tomorrow afternoon. Actually, invited is the wrong word. You guys have to be there in order for the testament to be read.”

“What?” Dean shuffled the weight on his feet awkwardly as he tried to process Cas’s words. “What - wait. Why do we have to be there?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Cas shrugged, “But I would steer clear of my brothers for a while. Probably Sam too. While Gabriel may think it’s funny, he is the only one. They already don’t particularly like you, Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas, I noticed.”

“Really? They like me.” Mick proudly said, cheeks high as he smiled.

“Shocker.” Dean muttered but by the look of Cas’s face, he must have not said it quietly enough. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll just get Sam and Charlie and go home.”

Cas tried to step forward towards Dean but he saw Mick’s grip around his waist tighten. Cas made a face but then he gave Dean one of those fake smiles. “Yeah, probably for the best. Don’t want Mike finding you and interrogating you all night.”

Dean nodded, biting the inside of his cheek before he gave them both the same cocky smile. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan then. I’ll head out then.”

Dean made his way out of the room, not wanting to meet the stare that was digging holes into him. He made it down the hall and was on the first step down the stairs when Cas called out to him. Dean turned around just when Cas stopped only a few inches away from him. From this angle, he can just take the next step up and have his lips pressed up against Cas’s skin. Against his lips. Pull him down for a kiss he desperately can’t stop selfishly thinking about.

At least he can imagine he was brave enough to do that.

Instead, he looked down at the piece of paper that Cas was handing him. “Take it, Dean, it won’t bite.”

Dean takes it and looks to see it was Cas’s phone number written in quick handwriting. That dumbass even drew a little happy face.

“Call me in the morning so I can give you all the details about tomorrow afternoon.”

Dean puts the paper in his pocket as he smiles up at Cas. “Sure, Cas. Thanks.”

Cas smiles back and Dean swears he blushes. Before Dean could enjoy the handsome sight, Cas ducks his head down to leave a kiss on Dean’s cheek. It was quick but it still felt lingering as it burned his skin.

“Night, Dean.” Cas whispers as he starts to walk away. “Um, and thanks for keeping Mick company. Give your family my best for me!”

Dean sucked in a shaky breath. “S-sure.”

Then he waves back at Cas, who looked like he was almost skipping before he disappeared back into his bedroom. Back to Mick.

#My Writing #WormstacheWrites #Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #mutual pinning #angst #slow burn #happy ending fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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jiminsfault · 5 years ago

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❥ pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥ genre: non-idol!au, nc17 / fluff, the tiniest amount of smut, a bit of crack, romance

❥ word count: 7.5k

❥ summary: Jimin wanted to play matchmaker and you fell right into his love trap.

❥ warnings: a lot of sexual comments, Reader has a fixation on hygiene?, Jimin is gay, side Yoonmin (it’s not really much but present), sexual tension, Jungkook probably has a Noona kink, use of korean honorifics (only a bit), Reader is super awkward, Jungkook is gonna steal your heart, more sexual tension, Jungkook knows tiktok, making out, kisses, it gets heated a bit, a lot of love, shy boy!Jungkook, more love

❥ thank you for this great header heathy! @shadowsremedy uwu

“Hey, uhm. Could you…,” Jimin started his sentence next to you, lying on your couch, “would you go on a date with me?”

You just sipped on your glass of coke, hearing this, you almost spat it out. With wide eyes you turned towards him and couldn’t keep your mouth closed, once you gulped the drink down. “No?” He asked, seeing your reaction. His tone was questioning and he had eyes just as big as you had.

“No. What the fuck, Jimin? Why would I go on a date with you? Like, ever,” you rolled your eyes, looking at him with disgust. Not to misunderstand, Jimin was handsome and funny, always there for you when you needed him. He encouraged you to go out and meet people and sat through movies with you, when you needed to cry about the boy who broke your heart.

But that’s exactly why you wouldn’t ever go on a date with him. Jimin was your best friend ever since high school, when he sat down next to you, a new student from Busan and just moved to seoul. He didn’t know anybody but when he sat down next to you, you smiled at him and explained to him what the class was about. Ever since then, you both were like paper and glue, sticking together for whatever troubles you had. You know too much about the guy, couldn’t ever see him in a romantic way. Plus, he’s gay, so.

Jimin rolled his eyes, too, sitting up and throwing all the crumbs from his chips onto your couch. He’s going to be cleaning this. “No you dummy, not like that. Just accompany me out with two guys and-”

“I will not have a foursome with you and some random dudes you found on Grindr!” You screeched, holding your pointer finger up and successfully stopping him from speaking.

“Can you shut up for a second? I don’t ever wanna see you when you get down and dirty with someone. You can keep that for yourself, I already had to find your vibrator,” shaking his head, he shuddered at the memory, “that was enough trauma.”

“I’m trying to tell you, it’s kind of like a double date. Except, the two dudes don’t know that yet. I really wanna fuck this one guy but he didn’t get the memo so he invited his friend when I said we could meet up sometime.” Another eye roll while he threw a chip up in the air and caught it with his mouth. He continued to speak, while chewing, making you cringe at his disgusting behavior. “His name’s Jungkook, the friend of his. You’re gonna come with and distract him from me and my snack. I just want some alone time to make him my sl-”

You held your hand up again, looking away. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “Fine, okay. If I come along, what’s in it for me? I have to spend my evening with some rando, getting him away from his friend? What if that dude doesn’t want to be alone with you?” Your face gave your doubt away, looking Jimin up and down.

“That’s the thing, Y/N. He doesn’t know that he wants to be alone with me yet. After that evening, when he realized what good of a catch I am, he definitely won’t get enough of some good alone time.” You scoffed, when he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Reaching forward, you snatched the bag of chips from him and ate some yourself. “And what’s in it for you, my sweet darling? Jungkook’s fucking hot, too. I’d want to bite his ass, but he’s straight as an arrow.”

He fake pouted, shortly after his devilish smirk came out because he could tell that you were considering it. “Do you have a picture? I’m not gonna let you trick me like last time,” the trust you once had in him to hook you up with someone was long gone after he told you he’d found the man of your dreams, until the guy turned out to look like he drank beer for fifty years and hadn’t showered for much longer.

“No, but I can describe him?” You tsked, standing up from the couch and going to the bathroom. Jimin could lie to you all he wants, you’re not gonna waste your time with this. “C’mon! Help me get some ass! Please!”

You snickered as he wailed in the living room, already having decided to help your friend out a little. But he didn’t need to know that just yet, teasing Jimin was too much fun.

“So you’re sure this guy won’t be a creep?” You checked back in with Jimin for the nth time. He could never be trusted when he was trying to get into some dude’s pants.

“Yes, Y/N. I’m a hundred percent sure and if I’m lying, you can absolutely cut off my balls and serve them for breakfast, yeah?” It was laced with humor and he side eyed you from the passenger's seat in your car. Breathing out, heavy with annoyance, you nodded.

This couldn’t be the worst, you supposed. “What happens if you and your twinky hit off and y’all wanna leave? Am I supposed to stay with this Jungkook guy?”

“He’s not a twink, Y/N. You’ll see, Yoongi is really nice!” His voice reached high ends and you scrunched up your nose. Even though you dressed up in a deep blue dress that was bordering on mid thigh, with your favorite heels, comfortable but still chic, you were full of doubts. Yes, a movie with Jimin and additional possible friends would be nice, but the risk of an unhygienic or rude date is still present.

“I can smell your worries,” Jimin said. You looked at him quickly and saw that he was watching you intently. “Jungkook really is a nice guy. He’s younger than you but he got his manners. And he’s a smart one,” he went on about your date for the rest of the way to the cinema and once you parked the car, he finally stopped talking.

“If you’re lying, prepare your balls,” you threatened, looking at him with sharp eyes. He nodded with a smirk and jumped out of your car.

You followed him, linking your arm with his after he waited for you and together you walked towards the entrance of the cinema. Inside, the entrance hall was bustling with people buying tickets and snacks, walking to the assigned rooms to watch movies. Children were running around and groups of teenagers filled the ticket box office.

Jimin already went to complain about how long they’d have to wait but then a guy approached. He had black hair, was about the same size as Jimin but had a bit of a smaller frame. His face was feline like and he seemed to know exactly who to talk to. “Jimin?” His voice sounded when he was only a few steps away and with a happy noise, your friend let go of your arm and fell into the arms of the man.

“Yoongi! How are you, where’s Jungkook?” He blabbered quickly, laying his arm around this Yoongi’s shoulders. Now that you thought about it, you never asked how Jimin met this guy. When they were closer to you, you smiled at Yoongi and introduced yourself. He seemed a bit shy, shrinking into Jimin’s frame when he greeted you. It was cute and suddenly you knew exactly why Jimin was so keen on meeting him.

“Jungkook is getting us popcorn, one sweet, one salty because we didn’t know what you guys preferred. Also drinks, I hope coke is fine?”

Jimin and you both agreed and once the both of them started conversation, you started to look around more. They seemed to get along well, why were you even here? And where is this Jungkook? The snack checkout was still full with people and considering the lack of knowledge you had about his looks except ‘he’s handsome’, your searching was hopeless.

You decided to grab your phone out of your small purse, checking the time only to see that the movie should start in about ten minutes. “Guys, why don’t we buy the tickets? We’ll miss the start if we wait longer,” you trailed while you still looked at your phone, overlooking the messages a group chat sent.

“Already taken care of,” a smooth voice announced from behind you. It caught you off guard, so you shrieked a bit and clutched your hands to your chest. A giggle was heard and shortly after, the person to the voice stood next to you, hands full with popcorn and drinks. The two men across you, still in conversation, took a drink each, Jimin holding a popcorn bag as well. “You must be Y/N, yeah? I’m Jungkook,” he said. Once you finally looked at his face, he was quite tall so you had to look high up, you saw a very handsome face.

He had perky and cute lips that seemed strawberry pink, a small mole underneath and his smile was cheeky and adorable. With his smile came bunched up cheeks and his eyes seemed to carry his happiness. The light brown hair was partly over his forehead, a small gap let you see a bit of his eyebrows, strong and dark. His frame was wide, muscly it seemed. He was wearing a jeans jacket with a white shirt underneath and ripped pants that hugged his wonderfully thick thighs. Was he a god or something?

Everyone noticed your quietness and to cover the awkward pause in conversation, Jimin laughed and went in to hug Jungkook. “Nice to see you! Yoongi told me a bunch about you. This here is Y/N, she can be a bit shy around new people,” he made show to hold your shoulders and make you look at him. Your cheeks glowed up with heat and an embarrassed laugh made it out from between your lips.

“It’s fine, I’m sure we can get used to each other inside,” Jungkook said with a friendly tone and you were glad that this was all that was needed for the small group to get moving. Jimin trailed in front with an arm draped around Yoongi’s waist and he looked back to wink at you. “C’mon, don’t wanna miss the ads, huh?”

This Jungkook really had an effect on you like no one else did. For god’s sake, you were older than this guy and you acted like a schoolgirl. Get a grip, Y/N!

With a heavy intake of breath, packing your phone back into your purse, you walked towards the three that were already a bit up the stairs. Arriving next to your date for the evening, you looked at his side profile. “Should I take something from that?” Pointing to the drinks and the bag of popcorn in his arms, you kept looking at him, between glancing down to make sure you didn’t miss the final step and walked behind Jimin and Yoongi. Did they even know which room the movie was playing?

“I got it, thanks,” he said, smiling down at you. Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “You’re a year older than me, right?” His question confused you a bit, after not much conversation he brought up age in an awfully weird way.

“Uhm… yeah, I think so? Jimin said I’m older than you, so,” you shrugged your shoulders and looked in front of you, walking through the doors of hall D. You saw your friend and his company walking up towards line 47 and they sat down on seat 4 and 5. “Do I go past them or do we sit here?”

You pointed at the seats 2 and 3 and looked at Jungkook. He scrunched his nose and you could see his eyes smile again. Nodding his head to the seats you were pointing at, he sat down shortly after you did too. He sat next to Yoongi, which made you be the furthest from your friend and slightly on edge. Jimin said he’d be with you until you were comfortable, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to be on your own with Jungkook.

The room was already dimmed down, the ads weren’t playing yet, so it was still relatively bright for a cinema. “Which popcorn do guys have?” Jimin asked from the end of your small row. Jungkook grabbed one popcorn and held it in front of you, looking at you with a grin.

“Find it out?” You gulped, raising your hand to grab the flake, but Jungkook held it closer to your mouth, making you open your mouth and taking it from his fingers with your lips. They touched the tips of his fingers briefly and you felt a spark of warmth in your belly, as well as your face. He still looked at you closely and didn’t waver from your face, meanwhile you looked sideways towards the screen to avoid his eyes. You munched the popped kernel and licked your lips.

“Salt,” you stated, shyly looking at the still smiling man who now nodded. Jimin could’ve just tried his own popcorn to find out that they had the sweet one. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at your lap. Why did he tell you to dress up? Jungkook was only wearing a jeans jacket and Jimin himself wasn’t that dolled up either.

Gnawing on your lip, you blended their voices out, only to be poked at your shoulder. You looked over, noticing that Jungkook probably tried to talk to you. “Is salt fine with you?” You nodded, calming yourself down. Right when he put your drink in front of you to have it, the lights got turned off.

“Oh no, now I can’t see the holder,” you murmured more to yourself. You clumsily tried to place your drink into the round plastic on your seat to your left but almost dropped the cup. Hissing out a curse, you tried again but failed. Suddenly you saw through your peripheral vision that Jungkook moving next to you, leaning across your body and taking your cup from your hold, finding the holder and sitting back into his seat. Stunned, you were glued to your place. Your breath was quick, Jungkook smelled nice and the way he leaned over you and completely covered you made you a bit unconcentrated. The advertisements started blaring out of the speakers but people were still talking, chewing their snacks and slurping their drinks.

“Noona,” Jungkook suddenly murmured right next to your ear. You felt his breath on your cheek and his presence was so hard to ignore. “Are you fine? You seem uncomfortable,” he continued, voice laced with obvious worry.

You looked to your side, making his face out with the light of the screen in front. It was close but he kept his distance once you faced him. “I’m a little nervous,” you whispered honestly. “And I’m overdressed.”

He giggled cutely, looking at the screen for a moment, where a movie trailer was now playing, but turned back to you. “Maybe a bit,” he admitted. He paused, seeming to think about his words. “But you look really pretty, Noona.”

He turned his head slightly to the side and smiled at you, fumbling around with your purse in your lap and avoiding his gaze. The cinema filled even more up and before the advertisements were fully over, there sat a man right in your viewpoint. A very tall man. You huffed, going left and right to see over his head, but to really see something, you’d have to lean over Jungkook. Taking a glance at him, he was casually talking with Yoongi and Jimin, they had picked a conversation up while you were busy. Munching a bit on the popcorn and sipping from his drink, he looked almost cute, wouldn’t he be so attractive that you couldn’t cope. His jeans jacket was still on and he spread his legs, slouching a bit in the seat to get comfortable. You usually hated it when men took up space like this. Jimin constantly did it to get on your nerves and if you would have half a mind, you’d see that he’s doing it tonight as well. Something about the way Jungkook made it look like changed your mind. It was suddenly not as gross, you’d rather get a personal feel for the meaty legs and the man was so attractive, you were sure his body had to be as well.

With a quick look to his side, he noticed you stopped squirming. But when he looked at the head in front of you, he could tell that it still very much blocked your view. Rasping his throat to prepare, he leaned over to you and came close, “do you want us to switch seats? I can probably look over him.” You jumped, slouching into your form and when you looked to your right, you saw that Jungkook was ready to stand up.

“No, it’s fine,” you whispered, laying a hand on his wrist that was nearest to you. He looked at the contact and you spluttered, realising your touch. He looked up, the dim lighting making it hard to really read his expression. With an audible sigh, he gave up the advance of switching seats, but still wanted to help you.

“Excuse me, Sir?” He leaned forwards a bit. The man in front of you turned over and looked at him, demanding what was the problem. “My girlfriend can’t really see with you in the view, would you mind scooting up the row two seats? It doesn’t seem like more people will come.”

You covered your face, wanting to disappear. Jungkook couldn’t just talk to a stranger like this, calling you his girlfriend. But to your surprise, the man nodded, smiling friendly and saying that he figured it should be alright, switching seats and then checking back that everyone could see. With gaping eyes, you looked to your seat neighbor and shook your head slowly. He grinned at you and leaned back, starting a conversation over how great he is, sarcasm obvious in his tone, but you still agreed wholeheartedly.

The movie started, the lights got even lower and you finally could lean back and relax. Until you realized one crucial thing, Jimin lied to you once again. The little fucker would get some nice bruises once you were done with him, he picked out a horror movie without telling you. In fact, you thought you were here to watch a family friendly animated movie, not something about dead dolls. He probably just wants his twink to be scared and hide in his arms and yet you have to suffer through it.

You tried to hold in your screams and whimpers at the first scary scenes, but Jungkook still noticed the stiffening of your posture and the small shrieks you let out. Without you even really noticing, he pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “you scared?” Nodding, you looked at him with terror in your eyes and he chuckled deep in his chest. You felt it through his jacket, your shoulder at his front. At the opportunity, you looked at the men next to Jungkook. Yoongi was laying in Jimin’s arms, hiding his face in his neck when the screen gave away jump scares and shrill noises.

“You can hold onto me, if it helps?” Jungkook suggested. At this point, you were willing to try anything. So you clutched onto Jungkook’s upper arm, pulling him a bit in front of you to hide behind his shoulder when the music started to build up.

As you left the movie hall, credits rolled and popcorn collected, you staggered out into the light and took in a big breath of air. You survived. Never in your life had you regretted meeting Jimin this much, the guy still had the nerve to laugh at you and mimic your shocked eyes. Yoongi giggled next to him, seemingly more attached than before the movie and you asked yourself if you really were needed to give them privacy.

“I think I’ll go to the bathroom, too. The ride home will be long,” Yoongi trailed, pointing behind him as he started walking backwards. Jimin nodded, waving cutely and turning back to you. Jungkook attended the bathroom as well, which made you wait on them now.

With a cheeky grin, Jimin looked at you expecting. “So? What do you think about Jungkook?” Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him, in search for the nearest chair to sit on.

“Jimin, I have an assumption and if I’m right about it, I’ll kill you.” The seriousness in your tone made him press his lips together and look at you. “You and Yoongi know each other well enough already, yeah?”

Your friend tried to avoid looking at you, moving from foot to foot and laughing nervously. “Well,” he started, puffing his cheeks with air. “We do know each other, but we don’t fuck! Yet. He never took my flirting seriously, which is why he invited a friend when I asked him out.”

He looked at you with puppy eyes, making you sigh. “But there was more behind me joining tonight, right? This seems like a setup.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you looked behind Jimin to see when one of the others came back. Your friend bit his lip, slowly nodding.

“Y/N, I know Jungkook, so I know that he’s such a great guy for you. When Yoongi said he’ll bring a friend, I asked him to bring Jungkook,” he admitted. “Getting you out of your room has been hard enough for a few weeks now, but you rarely meet guys. You always cry about your ex and that you’d never find the right one, so…,” he trailed off.

“So you took it into your own hands and made me come here, dolled up like this? You chose a horror movie, how cliché of you. The seats?” The wild guesses made Jimin squirm, you catching his plan head on and exposing him.

“Give him a chance, Y/N. He saw pictures of you and I told him a bunch, he thinks you’re really cute and Yoongi probably listens to him swoon about you right now! Nobody takes this long for a wee.” You laughed weakly, not knowing what to think of this.

Exhaling, you looked at Jimin for a long, quiet pause. “He’s really cute,” you said with finality. He made a show of fist bumping the air and congratulating himself. “But you can’t just play matchmaker with me.” The guilty look was back on again, puppy eyes and wobbly lip.

“Y/N, but you like him, right? Will you see him again?” He said in his baby voice. You laughed at this, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “No, really, will you?”

You had to think about that. Jungkook was handsome, smelled good, his hair seemed washed. He looks like he’s hygienic and he was really nice to you as well. Funny, in his own way and he helped you out multiple times. He flirted with you, too. It was a good date, after the awkward beginnings you felt comfortable and he was ready to protect you from the scary figures on screen. While contemplating all this, you bit on your lip and looked at your feet, not noticing the arrival of your company.

“I think I will, actually,” you started, raising your head until you saw Yoongi next to Jimin and realized Jungkook’s presence next to you. For the nth time tonight, blush rose to your face and ears, averting your eyes.

Jimin, not getting enough of teasing you tonight, started to smirk at his newest plot against you. “Hey, why don’t I come back to yours?” He turned to Yoongi, wiggling his eyebrows twice and laying his hand on his date’s waist. He made a noise of thinking before checking in with Jungkook, agreeing to Jimin’s suggestion afterwards. With horror in your eyes, you saw Jimin wave at you and Jungkook, faking worry and playing his act of, “I hope it doesn’t bother you to drive with Y/N?”

Watching the two descend down the stairs, heads disappearing, you turned to look at Jungkook, who already watched you. “What do you think you will?” The question seemed like he waited the whole conversation out to ask and you couldn’t keep eye contact with his intense stare on you.

“Ah, just… Jimin asked if I’ll study tonight!” You exclaimed, moving to jump off the chair but Jungkook stood in front of you, blocking the way.

“Did you enjoy tonight enough to meet me again?” He asked, his voice a tone darker than it was before and when you looked up at him, you couldn’t focus on just one feature of his. His broad frame covered you completely once again and his smell invaded your senses. Feeling a bit dizzy, you put your hand on his biceps. He felt your apprehensiveness and held you by your waist to support you.

Being shy about this kind of thing, you looked down and nodded quickly. “Yeah, I…,” you started, looking up again and being assured with the way his eyes didn’t waver from your form, “I’d really like that.” He smiled, nodding slowly and helping you get down from the high chair.

“So, can I ask you for your number, then?” He was blushing a bit himself, touching his ear when he waited for you to tap your digits into his phone. He promised to text you soon, said he couldn’t wait to meet you again and asked you all kinds of questions to find out what date idea you liked most.

In the end, he had a few ideas that he wrote down and said he needed some more time to think about it. You giggled at his cute behavior, asking him to lead the way for his place, once you were in the car. He helped you navigate and thanked you for getting him home, wishing you a good night and a safe drive back to your place. You nodded and reminded him of texting you, hearing a ping only moments after he closed the car door to walk the driveway up.

Checking your phone, you chuckled when you saw a message by an unknown number, ‘how soon can you see me again?’

It turned out to be very soon, actually. Just the next week, Jungkook organized a date for the two of you, keeping it a secret where exactly he’ll be taking you. He told you to wear casual clothing, just a simple outfit and no heels. He teased you to not overdress again and you actually screamed. Getting your point across that it was Jimin’s fault was hard when Jungkook was cocky enough to assume you wanted to lure him in.

But on the same friday, Jungkook picked you up with his truck, greeting you with his bright smile and congratulating you on the fitting clothes. He received your famous eye roll and off you went, onto the road.

The ride wasn’t long, Jungkook assured you that it’s around the city and that it’ll be fun. You decided to trust him, waiting to arrive wherever he takes you. Talking to him came easy, over the last week you texted a lot and got acquainted enough to be comfortable around him and tell stories to fill the car. His music taste was exceptional and he promised to make you a playlist soon.

When he turned the corner into a parking lot, you looked around. “Where are we?” You asked, confused because there was no obvious sign hung on the house you were in front.

“You’ll see,” he said, smile steady on his face as he left the car and walked towards the house, your steps close behind him. Jungkook rung a bell, next to it was a handwritten name but the door opened quickly, not giving you time to figure the letters out.

“Jungkook,” you said quietly, looking at him from where he stood three stairs above you. He looked down at you with a quizzed face, leaning his head to the side. “This isn’t some spooky stuff, right?” You furrowed your brows as you hesitated.

He let out an airy laugh, “no, don’t worry, Noona.” He winked at you, not very smooth since he ultimately blinked but it was cute, so you let it slide. Just opening your mouth to repeat the response to the title he used, that you had messaged him a few times now, he mocked in a high tone, “it’s just one year!”

You shook your head, following after him as he walked up two floors. “Pottery?” You asked confused once you saw a sign on the door you halted in front of. He didn’t include that in any of the ideas over the last week, so it took you off guard. Not pegging him for the type, you looked at him as he opened the door that was left open by whoever owned this.

“Yeah, pottery. Jimin told me you never tried it, so I figured we could learn something,” he trailed, walking inside the open room where a register stood with a woman behind and a few people walking around. “Hello, I called,” he greeted the woman behind the desk. “Jeon Jungkook?”

The receptionist nodded, making a noise of understanding as she scrolled through the computer in front of her. “Yes, there it is. Room 3, it’s right to the left once you lead the hallway.” He nodded, looking where she pointed and after you greeted the woman yourself, the both of you walked towards where she instructed.

“C’mere, you’re so slow,” Jungkook teased as he looked back at you and stood in the room. You grumbled something about your short legs, he couldn’t hear everything, but laughed his heart out at your grumpy face.

“Do we do this alone? Aren’t we getting instructions on what to do?” You threw into the almost empty room. There were stools and round tables, you figured they were where you could do the pottery. On the side of the room was a table with already made cups and bowls that were drying and next to them sat black plastic boxes. “What’s in these boxes?”

Before he could take a guess, you walked to them and opened one, seeing clay inside. “Ooh, so this,” you grabbed a clump, “is what we use?” He chuckled at your many questions as he sat on one of the stools in front of a table.

“Bring it here and let’s do this,” he grinned. Taking the clump, you dropped it on his table and went back to close the door, figuring that you really wouldn’t have an instructor. You sat down on the other stool, scooting it closer to Jungkook to watch what he was doing. “My knowledge about this is limited to tiktoks and youtube videos, I’m just saying,” he warned, serious look on his face until it cracked.

He dipped his hands in a water bowl that stood next to him on the floor, tapping the chunk of clay and applying pressure. When it worked, both your eyes were wide and you made a sound of amazement. After he made a high pole, he pressed it down and used his thumbs to make a hole and rounded his hands to cup the outside, bringing it into a circled form. “I’m making a cup!!”

You continued watching him for a bit and then decided to get working yourself, getting clay from the boxes and patting the mass, forming it up, pressing down but…, “my clump doesn’t like me.”

You looked over at Jungkook with a pout and presented the flat cake of wet clay, a small dent where your thumbs sat. He giggled, standing up and putting his chair next to yours, much closer than before. “Gimme your hands, let me lead,” he said, holding his hands, that were full of clay, in front of you and waiting for your smaller ones. “Now that I’m thinking of it, we should’ve covered our clothes with something,” he thought out loud. It broke the tension that started to build and let you laugh about him freely.

Now that he leaned over your shoulder and held your hands in his to help you form the clay, it seemed like the spinning mass was playing just a side character. His incredibly good scent rose up to your nose again, filling your thoughts of him and his much bigger frame. The way he leaned over you and you felt his hair tickle your ear, sometimes feeling his cold earring on your cheek when he leaned even more in, was intense for you. Thinking was hard when all your brain could process was him.

Just when he managed to archive the cup form, your thoughts stopped being foggy, brain clearing up a bit. “Look at us, we’re out here making cups! Look at this,” he almost roared, excitement clear. His arms were tight around you and he wiggled you with him, holding your hands in his, all full of clay. You cheered too, trying to turn your head to look at his smile. But suddenly, he seemed even closer, immediately looking into your eyes and you gulped, feeling the heat rise to your neck and face. You stuttered back, making him stand up and removing his arms from around you.

“We should uhm, wash our hands,” you said, stiff and shy. He nodded and added that the hour was almost over and you’d need to be out of the room anyway. “What about our cups?” You asked, puppy eyes on display and almost speaking in a high, watery tone. He chuckled, assuring you that he can get them once they call him. When you left the room, you not only found a washroom but the woman who owned this place. She greeted you and asked if you had a good time, mentioning that they will put your cups out to dry and can either pick them up or come and paint them too. With hopeful eyes you looked up at Jungkook and without even seeing your pleading face, he agreed that you definitely had to paint them.

Once she left to remove your cups from the tables and set them out to dry with small name tags in front of them, you and Jungkook left to wash your hands. The restroom wasn’t gender seperated, since the house was originally meant to be actual living place. So there you stood, both incessantly rubbing your hands to get rid of the clay.

Jungkook got done much quicker than you did, not in the mood to make your skin sensitive so you rubbed carefully along your skin. “I don’t think I can get it off,” you pouted. “My skin will hurt if I scrub them too harshly.”

He took your hands in his and started carefully smoothing off the partially dried clay on your fingers. Once he was sure that your hands were clean again, he turned off the water and dried both your hands with the towel, patting your skin rather than rubbing even more. You held back a coo, finding it incredibly adorable of him to take care of you this way. When he looked up from your hands, your eyes met and the tension from back in the pottery room was building again.

“Y/N, would you hate me if I said that I really want to kiss you right now?” His voice was held quiet, considering that other people could request the washroom as well. You shook your head twice and scooted closer to him. He wore a small smile and reached down, taking one of his hands from your still towel wrapped ones and holding the side of your face and neck with it. His thumb caressed your cheek and he switched from looking into your eyes, down to your lips.

After a final moment of giving you the chance of declining, he closed the distance and kissed you softly. There was barely any pressure for the first few seconds, until he moved back and licked his lips, kissing you again but much more determined.

You reciprocated the kiss immediately, filling all your senses with Jungkook and not getting enough of him. An eager, tiny moan slipped out from your lips when he pulled off for a short moment, turning yours and his own head a bit as not to clash noses. He chuckled breathily into the kiss and let his hand roam to the back of your nape, getting you closer to him. He let go of your hands completely, taking the other one and holding you softly by the waist. He took a step forwards, leading you blindly against the sink and the kiss grew desperate. Your breath turned heavy and you couldn’t hold back from pressing against his lips more. Laying the towel down behind you, you grabbed at Jungkook’s shirt around his waist and held onto him. A whine slipped past you when he tentatively licked against your bottom lip, asking for more but still taking it without thought right after.

You both flinched when somebody knocked against the door, calling, “could this be hurried up a bit?” Jungkook looked at your face with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, eyes wide for a moment before he broke out into his wide smile again. He held your face with one and your hip with the other hand still and leaned a bit back to give you space to breathe.

“We’ll be out in a minute!” He exclaimed loud enough to be heard outside and looked back at you. “You’re okay?” His eyes held something in them but you didn’t have time to analyze it, nodding and turning to hang the towel up where it’s supposed to be. He took your hand in his, surprising you and opening the door. A middle aged white woman stood in front of the door, giving you both a judging look before Jungkook said, “that clay sure is tough to get off, huh?”

After that you left, laughing about the woman’s face and praising each other for the cups you made. Jungkook suggested milkshakes and burgers after you drove for a little and happy with the idea, you agreed.

After the food, not definable if it was more lunch or dinner by the time you were eating, Jungkook dropped you off at your place, wishing you a good almost night and saying that he’ll text you when he’s home. You blushed as you asked him to close his eyes and went in to plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyebrow jumped up at the contact and when he opened his eyes again, he grinned. You waved after you closed his door and turned around to walk into your apartment complex, smiling widely.

“Did you guys fuck tho?” Jimin asked you, hand raised and flopped over when he stood in the doorway with his weight on one leg and his hip popped out. His lips were pursed and he raised his eyebrows in expectation. You laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“No, we just,” you bit your lip, “kissed.” It was clear he didn’t buy it but he let it slide. Nodding multiple times, he walked over to the couch and flopped down.

“So, I assume you fell for my little trap, huh,” he grinned. “I was right about thinking you guys would work out, he’s the right amount of gentleman for you.”

He was right about this, you did enjoy Jungkook’s company and you started regularly texting and meeting up, sometimes just casual without the whole pressure of a date around it. He stole some kisses from time to time, always grinning too cute to get scolded for it and secretly, you loved getting attacked with his smooches when you least expect it.

“When is he gonna ask you out? What’s he waiting for?” Your noisy best friend opened up his snacks, throwing some into his awaiting mouth and chewing obnoxiously. You shrugged your shoulders, walking from the kitchen isle to the couch and joining Jimin.

You snuggled into the couch, next to him, watching a movie, when the door bell ringed. “Did you invite someone?” You looked up at Jimin from where you rested your head on his shoulder. He shook his head, watching you as you got up to see who was at the door.

The peephole revealed that Jungkook was standing in front of your door and you never opened it this quickly. “Gukkie! What are you doing here?” You squealed, falling into his arms. You weren’t expecting him at all, haven’t seen him for a week now and missed him the most. He chuckled, putting his arms around you and kissing your head.

“Had to visit the baby,” he talked into your hair, beaming in the affection. Giggling, you looked up, chin on his chest and grinning. “Hyung?” He asked, wide eyes and pitched voice.

Jimin greeted Jungkook back and they fell into small talk, you taking the opportunity to get some drinks, you and Jungkook’s selfmade cups for each of your drinks and a store bought one for Jimin.

The cups were painted white by your request and once they dried you and Jungkook were able to paint them as you liked, making it your fourth date at the time. You painted the cups for each other, making it a surprise but both ended up with an equally cute design. Jungkook painted your name in his squiggly handwriting and added a heart next to it, painting a smiley and flowers. On his cup you painted colorful swirls on one side and on the other one you painted two stick figures representing both of you.

Once you sat back on the couch, Jungkook between you and Jimin, the teasing started. “Cute show you guys gave me, is there gonna be more later?” Jimin’s eyes were glinting with mischief.

Instead of laughing like you did, Jungkook slapped Jimin on the back and grinned stiff, “you could also just leave?” They both laughed overly exaggerated at it and slept each others backs, until Jimin took Jungkook’s head underneath his arm and rubbed his hair quickly, creating heat.

“Respect your elders, Jungkook. But you’re right, I should go,” he looked up in thought, “Yoongi is probably missing me,” he swooned. After standing up and pushing Jungkook into the couch one last time, he hugged you and took his leave right after.

Jungkook took a sip of his drink and tsked at how Jimin left his untouched, smiling at his cup like he did every time he was over and you gave it to him.

“Ah, my plan worked well,” Jungkook smirked, placing the beverage back on the table in front of the couch, leaning back into the comfortable pillows and looking at you. “Let’s cuddle, c’mere.” His voice turned soft regarding you, opening his arms and inviting you with a wiggle to his brows.

“Why are you here, Guk?” You murmured after a short moment. He exhaled and sat up a little, rasping his throat.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” he said, very serious but the corner of his mouth moved up on his own. “Can we play Mario Kart?”

You blinked at him, bursting into laughter. “This is a very serious matter, Y/N. ” His face was stern, looking at you with no hint of humor.

“You made Jimin leave so we can play a video game?” The question wasn’t really in need of an answer, but Jungkook nodded anyway.

“You can be Peach and I’ll be Mario,” he said as he stood up and searched the drawers of the TV table for the remotes.

“Why do I have to be Peach? I always play Toad.” At this, Jungkook turned around abruptly and shook his head.

“No, that wouldn’t make sense,” he said. He was confusing you and your face made that clear but he was too busy with checking if the remotes had batteries in them, turning on the console and picking out the game of his desires.

“What are you trying to archive with this?” You giggled. “Why can’t I play my usual character?”

He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes up to think. “Okay, well… let me word it differently.” He walked towards you, still sitting on the couch, and placed the two remotes to his side. Sitting opposite of you with crossed legs, he bit his lip and looked as his fingers as he pulled on his sock. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said timidly, looking up at you to catch your reaction.

You smiled, because it’s simply Jungkook. He could always act like the annoyingly confident guy but he’ll never hide how shy he really could be.

Nodding, you breathed, “yeah,” and squealed when he took you into his lap with a smile. “But can I still be Toad?”

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floggingink · 4 years ago

Text

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU!

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip?

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.”

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

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buckmecaptain · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Bonus, Doubled

I don’t... I don’t even know what this is.

All I’m certain of is that I was inspired to write it by @bitchassbucky ‘s Slutmas offerings, and I had to get in on the fun. All typos are mine. Christmas decorating, flirting, a few naughty words, making out, prelude to smutty sexytime, implied threesome (M/F/M) Pairing: Bucky Barnes X F!OC X Steve Rogers (NOT Stucky)

Fresh out of the showers after their morning run, Steve and Bucky made their way to the kitchen for drinks and a snack.

“So much colder out there this morning,” Bucky noted, snagging electrolyte waters for the two of them.

“Well, Thanksgiving was a few days ago, so I guess it's time for winter to come on.” Steve handed him a granola bar before adding, “Tony should be making a plan for Christmas parties soon.”

As they dug into their snacks, they heard muffled cursing from the great room and looked at each other in surprise.

“What was that?” Steve questioned as he rose to investigate.

Tony's assistant Bailey burst through the doorway, breathless and frazzled. “Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes! I need you both! Now, please?”

The super-soldiers blinked in surprise and confusion, then completely different expressions formed on their faces as they took in her appearance. The usually business-attired PA was wearing one of Tony's Black Sabbath t-shirts and a pair of men's boxers, along with some ridiculous fuzzy Christmas socks.

Steve, concerned, stepped forward with his hands raised. “Are you alright? Who's in trouble?”

Meanwhile, Bucky was looking her up and down, a devlish grin on his lips. “Both of us? At least buy us a drink first, doll.”

Bailey blinked, then shook her head. “First of all,” she pointed at Bucky, “not what I meant, but put a pin in that for later. Second,” she turned to Steve, “there's no real trouble. I'm really frustrated and I need a couple of beefy super guys to help me out.”

“Um, okay?”

Sighing, she wrung her hands. “Sorry, sorry... Mister Stark tasked me with decorating the great room, and the stepladder isn't tall enough. Neither am I. You guys are tall and strong, so will you help me, please? I promise it'll be less than half an hour.”

Bucky strutted across the room. “Oh, sugar, a half hour ain't enough for me to even get started.”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Yes, Sergeant. You're incredibly hot and every girl wants to get in your pants, I get that. And believe me, if I had time... but I have to get this done before Mister Stark gets here at two.”

Momentarily speechless, Bucky stared at her.

“Captain Rogers?”

He smiled broadly. “Sure thing, Miss Bailey. Show me what you need.”

“Yay!” she clapped her hands together. “Thank you!” She led the way to the great room, where she'd already done a great deal of decorating.

Warm lights glowed over the mantle, where a stocking was hung for each team member. Remarkably realistic electric candles were placed strategically around the room, accompanied by poinsettias and pricey figurines of Santa Claus, reindeer, and snowmen. A massive ten-foot tall tree stood in between two of the floor-to-ceiling windows, bereft of ornaments.

“So, I need help with hanging the garlands that will be draped at the tops of the windows – there are only four, so not too bad – and I have to get the lights on the tree. I think the team is supposed to do the tree decorating later today, but I'm not involved in that.”

Bucky glanced at the stepladder. “Yeah, that thing is definitely not tall enough to get you up there, sugar.”

“My point exactly. If you boys could boost me up, I can reach. Otherwise, I'll have to pile up chairs and tables, then take a trip to medical.”

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. “No need for that. But, uh, tell me, how good is your balance?”

Bailey made a little squee of excitement and stood tall. “I'll have you know I was a cheerleader and gymnastics champ. To be fair, that was quite a few years ago, but I've kept up my fitness routine.” She struck a pose and flexed, a silly grin plastered on her face.

“So what you're saying is, you're flexible,” Bucky quipped, eyeing the way the t-shirt strained over breasts.

She nodded. “Like a rubber band, baby. Boost me!”

“Um, are you going to be able to balance in those?” Steve asked, looking pointedly at her fuzzy Santa socks.

“Whoops!” She stripped off the socks and stepped into the soldiers' hands. “Whoa, strong. Okay, higher, please. Can I stand on your shoulders?”

They stood side-by-side, holding Bailey's legs and shuffling along the width of the windows as she attached the crimson-and-gold garlands.

As they approached the fourth window, Bucky piped up, “So you and Stark are pretty close, huh?”

“Buck...” Steve warned.

“Close? I don't know about that. I mean, I've only worked for him for a little over a year, why do you ask?”

Bucky scoffed. “You're wearing his shirt and underwear, doll.”

“Oh, that. Well, he sprang this on me at the last minute, and can you imagine me doing this in a fitted blouse and pencil skirt?” She giggled at the absurdity.

“Actually, I can. But that doesn't explain why you're wearing his boxers. I mean, they fit you like a glove, but...”

“They're comfy?” She laughed again. He didn't want me to have to go all the way home to Long Island for a change of clothes and I refused to let him buy me something, so he loaned me this.”

“Socks too?” Steve asked, amused.

“Yes and no. My Christmas bonus was in the box with the socks. Mister Stark had me believing they were my bonus... then he told me to try them on and the check was underneath. To the tree, gents!”

The hanging lights were finished in no time and Bailey asked FRIDAY to power on everything for testing. The room was bathed in the warm glow of soft white lights as the trio admired their handiwork.

“Thank you so much, guys. Time for me to get down.”

“Don't you dare try to, what do you call it? 'Stick the landing'? You'll get hurt. Let us help,” Steve ordered gently, then exchanged a look with Bucky.

“Um, okay. What are you suggesting? Because I'm not climbing down the tree.”

“On the count of three, you're going to drop straight down,” Bucky decided. “Think of it like one of those 'trust fall' things.”

“Well, if I can't trust America's greatest soldier-bros, who can I trust?”

Steve nodded. “We've got you. Ready?” When Bailey nodded, he counted down. “One, two, three!”

Bucky and Steve turned to face each other and Bailey dropped. What they hadn't counted on was that her body would be sliding against both of theirs, up close and personal. Soon after Bucky came within kissing distance of her ass, which he'd been admiring from below all this time, Steve got a face full of her ample bosom.

To make matters worse – or more interesting, in the soldiers' opinions – Bailey wriggled and shimmied the rest of the way to the floor. Now wedged between two flustered and aroused Avengers, she paused for thought.

“Well, what do you know, I'm in a Super-soldier sandwich! It's cozy. Warm. I like it here.” She looked up at Steve's face and found it flushed, his pupils blown wide and dark.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky rasped, “you got it a little backwards.”

Bailey leaned her head back to look at him, exposing her throat, and immediately felt Steve's erection twitch against her belly. “Backwards how?”

He dipped his head so his lips ghosted against her temple. “Steve's the ass man.” He pressed his pelvis into her lower back and ran his hands up her sides.

“Is he, now? I didn't hear any complaints when my chest was in his face,” she teased, “I'd turn around, but I seem to be trapped-” she broke off and shivered as she felt Steve's warm, wet tongue sliding up the column of her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Oh.”

Bucky growled and nipped her ear playfully. “What would you say to another Christmas bonus, sugar?” he asked, sliding one hand into her hair, keeping her head pulled back so the Captain could continue concentrating on her neck.

“I'd say – oh! - I'd say fuck yes. But- oh, need to hurry before I ruin Mister Stark's boxers.”

“FRIDAY, if Tony asks, tell him Bailey is assisting us for the next few hours,” Steve directed, then lifted the woman and threw her over his shoulder before hurrying to his room with Bucky in tow.

Bailey giggled as Steve swatted her ass. “Merry Christmas to me!”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut

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prettyboypeterparker · 5 years ago

Text

Every Christmas Eve Tony holds a soirée. It’s over the top and most of the time runs well into the next morning because come on, it’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t half ass anything.

Peter has only attended twice, once when he first met Tony and the second when Tony introduced him to everyone as his fiancée. Now that had been an interesting night for Peter, seeing most of the wealthy people’s jaws drop at the fact that someone as low class as Peter could chain down playboy billionaire Tony Stark who had made it clear marriage just wasn’t in the cards for him. Peter had felt immense pride that night.

Peter chews on his nails as MJ unzips the white cover that came with the dress that he bought a week ago. It had been an impulse buy. Peter’s never worn anything meant for females before, if you discount the times when he was a child and had clopped around in his mothers heels and skirts.

The dress had been something Peter had seen on a fashion show that he’d been watching with May. It had looked so good on the tall model, flowing and shimmering as she had walked down the runway. Peter had taken a photo of the dress and the info about where to buy it then politely had asked Tony if he could use his Amex card. The transaction went through that night.

“Stop chewing your nails, I gotta have something to paint on later.” MJ scolds him as she pulls the dress out.

It’s just as gorgeous as it had been on tv, soft wispy feathers cover the bottom of the dress and sleeves while the rest is studded with diamonds over creme colored lace with strands of spun silver. It’s otherworldly.

“Holy cow this must’ve cost an arm and a leg.” Peter stands from the bed and reaches forward to touch the dress.

“More than that.” Peter takes the dress from MJ, his eyes flick to the clock above the door.

“I gotta start getting ready.” MJ nods and waits by for when Peter eventually will need help.

He goes into the walk in closet and strips, Peter undoes the back of the dress and slips himself in the lace slides against his skin and goosebumps erupt when it touches his freshly shaved legs, MJ’s idea of course.

“Can you button me up?” Peter asks as he walks out of the walk in.

MJ nods and comes up behind him to button the back up, once the dress is closed it sits nice and snug against his chest showing the very obvious lack of breasts.

“Did you buy heels?” Peter shakes his head.

“I tried walking in May’s heels and I’m not there yet but the dress is long enough that I can get away with wearing my sneakers.” Peter smiles while MJ laughs.

“That works too.” Peter sits down gently on his bed and puts on his socks and sneakers, tying them up tight.

He stands back up and walks around making sure that they don’t peak when he moves and it works nicely.

“Okay I’m gonna do you nails and a light dusting of makeup before you leave ‘kay?” Peter nods and lets MJ drag him over to the bathroom.

She sits him down and shows him the silver polish she brought and the matching eyeshadow. She works quick and efficiently getting everything on without trouble, she even clips his hair back artfully before applying the final touch of sticky lipgloss that smells of peach.

“My work here is done.” MJ flops down onto Peter’s bed with a sigh.

“You’re the best! I promise to buy you a million churros for your hard work.” Peter smiles and picks up the clutch purse that came with the dress, he hangs it over his shoulder and takes a breath.

“Don’t freak out Parker, you’ll be fine, Tony won’t let anyone make fun of you.” Peter nods.

“I’ll send Happy back to come drop you off home okay?” MJ two finger salutes him before becoming distracted on her phone.

Peter takes on last shaky breath before walking to the elevator and going to the lobby where Happy waits for him.

The hall that Tony is holding the function at is big. In the simplest words. There’s a camera crew waiting out front in the snow while the upper crust of Midtown Manhattan make their way in. Cameras are flashing as people with microphones talk about the upper class, commenting on who they are and what they’re wearing. Happy pulls up to the curb just before the entrance.

“You okay kid?” Peter shakes his head.

“I’m terrified.” Normally Peter shows up before anyone gets there, usually helping Tony with last minute things.

“You’ll do great but if it’s too much I can always drive round back?” Peter clutches his bag to his chest and takes a heaving breath.

“Nah it’s okay, I gotta get use to this now if I’m gonna marry Tony... right?” Happy looks at him through the rear view mirror.

“You don’t have to change yourself entirely, Tony will understand.” Happys right, Peter feels slightly less stressed.

“You can drop me off out front.” Happy nods and drives forward, he gets out of the car and goes to the door and opens it, holding out his hand.

Peter slides across the seat and takes Happys hand, he gets out and straightens his dress before walks forward with a big grin. Flashes go off like crazy and there’s a bunch of people shouting at him asking questions and flinging compliments. Peter’s anxiety fades steadily. Peter walks with his head held high and makes his way inside, he knows May is waiting somewhere inside probably lapping up the male attention. It doesn’t take him long to find her, she’s chatting with Rhodey and when she sees Peter she squeals and politely ends the conversation with Rhodey.

“You look amazing!” Peter blushes but smiles.

“I mean you look even better.” Peter deflects the compliment by giving her one.

Mays dressed in a slim velvet green side split dress with strappy sliver heels with matching earrings. She looks amazing, her hair lays nicely over her shoulders and she’s swapped her usual glasses for contacts, she’s got minimal make up but just enough to accentuate her already gorgeous features.

“I cannot believe you showed up in a dress Pete! You look stunning, I’m pleasantly shocked.” May cups his cheek and rubs at the tip of his nose, something she’s been doing since he was a kid.

“You and the paparazzi both.” May takes Peter’s hand and walks him over to the refreshment table, a waiter is arranging champagne flutes on a tray.

“Do you know where Tony is?” Peter asks after taking a sip of champagne.

“Last I saw he was talking with that hunk of a Captain.” Peter snorts and nearly sloshes his drink.

“Yeah well that hunk of a Captain is taken.” Peter says as he scans around the hall.

“Lucky man, that grumpy metal arm guy better treat him right.” May says as she finishes her drink in one gulp.

“I’m sure Bucky does.” Peter is still searching when he sees Steve standing by the small orchestra Tony hired.

“Wouldn’t mind getting between that.” She says as she picks another flute up.

“May!” Peter laughs loudly as she giggles as well.

“What? As if you wouldn’t?” The two have garnered attention from guests around them, probably wondering why these two nuts are cracking up.

“No I’m very happy with my fiancé with whom I’m trying to find, so if you don’t mind I’m gonna go bother that hunk over there.” Peter nods towards Steve and May sighs dreamily.

“Mention me won’t you?”

“Nah.” May playfully smacks Peter’s shoulder before letting him walk away.

After a quick chat with Steve on Tony’s whereabouts he finds his fiancé in a hallway talking animatedly to one Pepper Potts.

“Tony I’m telling you, you can’t just make a scene like that.” Tony rolls his eyes.

“I’ll do as I please. I’m Tony fucking Stark.” Peter giggles and suddenly the attentions on him.

“Holy shit.” Tony’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen.

“Hey Tones.” Peter smiles and Pepper snorts when Tony stumbles closer.

“Good evening Peter.” Pepper says politely.

“Good evening Pepper, doing well?” Tony comes closer as does Pepper.

“Better now that I saw Tony nearly fall over.” Peter laughs then turns back to Tony.

“It should be illegal for you to look this good. I’m calling the police. Pepper go get a paramedic I’m having a heart attack.” Peter nearly crumbles from Tony’s antics.

“Men.” Pepper says as she rolls her eyes, she shakes her head before excusing herself.

“You look amazing baby. A dress? God you’re killing me.” Peter leans up to kiss Tony.

“Don’t die before we get married.” Tony kisses back and they stand pressed together.

“Is it bad to say I’m like rock hard right now?” Peter smiles and giggles.

He looks down and sure enough the crotch of Tony’s slacks are thicker than moments ago.

“Dirty old man.” Peter teases as he reaches down to brush against his fiancé.

“Naughty little minx.” Tony clucks his tongue and pulls Peter until he’s pushed against the wall.

The air around them gets heavy and their breath mingles as they pant against each other.

“Gonna fuck you. Nice and quick. Filthy, just how you like it love.” Tony forces Peter to turn around and reaches down to pull up the train of his dress. Peter hears Tony chuckle.

“There’s my Peter.” Tony says as he taps his shoe against Peter’s.

Peter smiles to himself and leans forward to rest heavily against the wall, Tony pushes Peter’s feet apart then grabs Peter’s ass harshly.

“Commando? Risqué my darling.” Peter hadn’t thought about underwear and had left them off.

“Mmhm.” Peter whines when Tony spits on his hand pushing past Peter’s rim to stretch him.

It takes a few minute for things to be comfortable and wet enough for Tony to push in but once they get there Tony doesn’t waste anymore time. Pushing in Tony grips Peter’s hips hard and keeps his promise of quick and filthy. Peter moans against the wall and he’s sure he’s smearing his lipgloss against the paint and his own face, he lifts onto his tiptoes and pushes back against Tony meeting his thrusts perfectly.

“Gonna cum... Tony... gotta cum.” Peter whimpers as Tony adjusts his grip and slides his thumbs into the small of Peter’s back.

“Yeah baby, I can feel you getting tighter. Squeezing the fuck outta my cock. Milking me so good love.” Tony rumbles hotly into his ear, tugging on his lobe before licking the sweat gathering on the back of his neck.

A few more thrusts is all it takes for Peter to bear the edge.

“M’dress Tony... don’t wanna ruin it.” Peter gasps.

“I’ve got you honey. Cum for me.” Tony’s hand comes to wrap around Peter’s cock stroking to tip Peter over.

Peter shudders as he cums, eyes rolling as his back arcs almost painfully. Tony grunts and cums inside Peter’s ass leaving his insides sticky wet.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.” Tony murmurs as he noses along Peter’s hairline.

“Love you.” Peter mewls as Tony gives him a few over sensitive squeezes before pulling his cum sticky hand away.

Peter looks over his shoulder to watch Tony lick his fingers quickly.

“M’leaking.” Peter tells him while pushing his thighs together.

“I’ve got you.” Tony drops to his knees and Peter cries out loudly when his tongue pushes past his raw rim, tonguing out all the cum.

Tony let’s the dress drop before turning Peter around, he kisses him, pushing his cum into Peter’s mouth letting him pass it back and forth between them until there’s none left. Peter pulls away with a dreamy sigh.

“You look so good after you orgasm. All soft and glowy. Beautiful.” Peter smiles and pulls Tony into a hug.

“Same goes for you handsome.” Peter rubs his nose against Tony’s before stepping away on jello legs.

“We should probably get back. People will wonder what we’re doing.” Tony takes Peter’s hand and leads them out of the hallway.

“And I’ll tell them I was ravishing my fiancé in the hallway.” Peter playfully glares at Tony.

“You wouldn’t.” Tony laughs.

“I would.”

The rest of the evening goes swimmingly and Peter converses with Tony’s business partners and colleagues. They dance together and make the rounds with small gift bags for everyone. When the night starts to slow and people start leaving and only the Avengers are left Tony pays the band to play over time and something that isn’t Christmas themed. Peter can’t stop smiling when Tony takes him back to the dance floor where Tony spins him then dips him, eyes shining brightly and laugh echoing happily.

“This has been the best one so far.” Tony tells Peter as they watch their friends dance around them.

“Yeah?” Peter nuzzles into Tony’s chest.

“Yeah.” Tony murmurs as he kisses the top of Peter’s head while they sway gently.

#starker #tony x peter #starker nff

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dazed--xx · 5 years ago

Text

Beside you (JJK POV)

Genre: ANGST,SMUT, if you squint fluff

Word count: 4,327

TRIGGER WARNING: NONE

A/N: SO I am writing part 2 but some people were confused on whether or not jungkook had feelings for Y/N so i decided to do his POV to get his side of the story.

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“You may kiss the bride” The words bring disgust to my heart. “um...Jungkook?” She whispers scared as I roll my eyes and place a light kiss on her lips. My lips brush against her ear as I whisper “Just know this will be the last time you ever get to kiss me.” A satisfied smirk displayed across my face as hers falls, as we walk down the aisle as an officially married couple, hand and hand, keeping up appearances for my father. I do a quick glance at him and he gives me a thumbs up. Idiot I think as I shake my head, we rush through the double doors of the church and disappear in the car placed in the front of the building of worship.

Once we got in the car, I retract my hand, disgusted at this stupid plan my father has come up with. I don’t love Y/N. My father doesn’t want the world to know about his losses, he doesn’t want the great Jeon name ruined due to his misdeeds now I'm the one fucking paying for it marrying this spoiled sheltered little rich girl. He doesn’t care, he just wants to keep her stupid father happy. My father probably didn’t realize why no one else, not even her own father, didn’t want Y/N.

At the reception I disappeared as soon as we walked through the door. To the bar, to anywhere farther away from her. “Hey Handsome, what are you having?” The bartender asks as I look around the room. The amount of people that has shown up to this stupid ass wedding is pretty impressionable, Y/N making her way around the room talking to everyone she comes across. “Rum and coke” I look at the beautiful red headed woman across from me at the bar. She hands me my drink “so gorgeous what do you like to get into?” she smiles and says “trouble” a smirk flashes across my face. I down the rest of my drink “well let's go get into some trouble then what do you say huh baby girl?” “Uhm... I honestly really wish I could but I don’t want to get in trouble I’m working” She says nervously. “Don’t worry baby girl it's my wedding. So, I mean technically I am the one paying you, and you deserve a break” I laugh. She nods and runs from behind the bar “I'm Areum by the way.”

After about a few months, I've seen Areum more and more. Her body satisfying my sexual needs, she's growing more and more attached. My irritation with her becoming more and more evident as her calls become more frequent. Ending things is too hard at this point she's threatened to go to my father about our relationship knowing it could possibly ruin his whole scheme. His anger with me growing as he never sees me with Y/N when I visit. So, he made me help Y/N move her things into the home my parents bought for us. Her presence irking my soul every time I hear her melodic laugh from her bedroom. Y/N is a beautiful girl, yet I despise her because of my father. He’s the reason I'm trapped in a loveless marriage expunging this girl of her money. I own my own businesses I work every day but it's never enough to pay off the debts my father continues to rack up. Y/N has taken over the second bedroom and every time she gets out of the shower shed have to pass my room to get to hers, in nothing but a towel, and my heart would stop. My member growing hard at the image of her, the thought of her naked body walking into my room and riding my hard cock, growing harder and harder to push back in my head as the days go by.

After a while I become used to Y/N, her bubbly personality begins to light the whole house when she gets up in the morning. The days I have hard mornings mostly due to Areum, and I throw and break things Y/N doesn’t complain about the items almost attacking her, she smiles at me nods and goes to the kitchen to make me tea. She doesn’t ask about my troubles; she just goes to sooth them with the tea she constantly buys knowing it's my favorite. She doesn’t even drink tea. She doesn’t deserve to be married to a man like me. She's growing more and more a part of my daily routine. Her melodic voice in the shower waking me up every morning with her renditions of Eyes,nose,lips , I am the best, or whatever tune is in her head. Her questions about work after I get home, soon she becomes the only person I cannot wait to talk to Areum slowly growing out of my mind. My words of divorcing Y/N becoming more and more untrue as her aura consumes me.

One morning I woke up the house dead silent. “Y/N-ah?” silence. I jump out of my bed and make my way to her door. She probably slept in; an idea crept into my mind. I make my way to her door “Y/N-ie?” silence. Concern fills me as I open her door “Y/N? I was wondering if-” My words cut off as the sight of an empty unmade bed comes into view. I rush to my room and dial Y/N’s number, a ringing is heard throughout the house. “Fuck!” I shout as I dial Y/N’s fathers' number. “Hello sir um you wouldn’t happen to know where Y/N is would you?” “EXCUSE ME? YOU LOST MY DAUGHTER JEON!?!?” “No, I just woke up and she wasn’t here she said a while ago she wanted to visit you, I just assumed she did” The line ended. Panic took over my body as I dial my father's number. “Y/N is missing” I say to him softly.

An hour later Y/N and my father are sitting on my couch as they lecture me on my irresponsibility, and failure at her disappearing in the first place. I hear the door knob moving and my head whips around.

“Jungkook-ah I’m back is anyone he-” I hear as I jump off the couch and dash towards Y/N. My breathing heavy and a sigh of relief escapes my mouth. “Fuck I thought something happened to you” I state grabbing both sides of her face making sure she's okay. “Where were you? I woke up and tried to see if you wanted to go get breakfast and you weren't answering the door, so I opened it and you weren't there your bed is made where'd you sleep? I called your dad, man. I called MY dad” She gives me a beautiful smile and the worry washes away as she notices the 2 men on the couch and gives them a polite bow. “I'm sorry Kook-ah I woke up really early and chose to go for a walk. I lost track of time and only made it home just now I'm okay”

Since that day I’ve asked her to always keep me informed that she will be going out, my heart cannot take waking up to worry as much as I did that day. The need for her attention builds inside me and one night I can't contain it “Hey, do you want to go out with me tonight?” I ask shyly. “Yes! I mean yeah sure that sounds fun” She beams and my heart skips a beat. She rushes to her bedroom to get ready as I go to my bedroom to get dressed excitement filling me. I wait in front of the door for Y/N as my phone pings with a text from Areum.

Areum<3: Daddy I want to see you I'm going to the club tonight you should come by. I promise I'll be a good girl for you 😉.

I roll my eyes hmm I could definitely use something to get this frustration out.

Me: I'll see you there baby girl.

The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor, brings me back to reality. My eyes slowly observing every curve in Y/N’s figure. My pants growing tight as I try to speak “Uhm... Let’s...” She smiles and grabs my hand as she pulls me out of the house “Let’s go Jungkookie” FUCK JUNGKOOK JUST MAKE IT THROUGH THE DAMN NIGHT

Once we arrived at the club, I grab Y/N’s hand and stop her “Look, I know you don’t go out a lot and I want you to have as much fun as you want to okay. She smiles and nods as I release her hand catching sight of Areum. I make my way over to her “Hey stranger” she exclaims excitedly. I nod at her and smile “So...? You invited me here for a reason, right?” She smirks “Of course you know I'd never waste your time just wasn’t expecting to see your ugly ass wife” Anger builds and its evident on my face by Areums next comment. “Okay grumpy boy I'm sorry..... I forgot sensitive subject but don’t worry I'll make you forget all about her come on” She grabs my hand and leads me to the bathroom.

The second the bathroom door closes behind me Areum locks the door. “Jungkook I'm not happy...why don’t you see me anymore? Are you actually going to act on those stupid things you said you were feeling for that wife of yours?” I shake my head, Y/N would never want me to. I press my lips to hers and press her against the sink. She pulls my zipper down and pulls her panties off. “No foreplay, no time just fuck me okay?” she states as she bends over the counter, I grab the condom out of my pocket.

Soon I'm pulling my pants back on and walking out of the bathroom as Areum cleans herself off “CALL ME!” She shouts as the door closes behind me. My eyes scan the club and Y/N is nowhere in sight. I make my way through the dance floor. In need of a drink I make my way over to the bar and order a few shots. Soon I see Y/N laughing in a conversation with some guy across the bar. Her eyes shining like the stars and my heart flutters. Why does he get to hear that beautiful laugh? it should only be for me. She’s MINE, but she's not it's hard to remember she's not. My mind going back to the feeling of her lips on mine at our wedding my need to feel them again growing. This guy is flirting with her, I can tell by the smirk he’s kept on his face. His eyes drifting to her chest, the anger growing in the pit of my stomach. WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS?!?!?! WHY IS SHE STILL FUCKING TALKING TO HIM??? WHY DON’T YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT? I rush behind her and hear this prick say seductively “SO... I hate to be THAT guy but are you here alone?” IM.GOING.TO.FUCKING.KILL.YOU.ASSHOLE. My jealousy growing too strong to contain as I wrap my arm around Y/N’s waist and growl at the prick flirting with the woman I've secretly come to love “No she's here with me...... her husband” I pull Y/N against my chest and she relaxes and presses her ass against me. “And were supposed to be having a good time together...without you”

“Sorry man, I didn’t know she was married. You know...since she was standing here by herself for a while, shit it looked like she didn’t seem to mind spending time with me” The prick smirks sarcastically. The anger is growing more and more within me. “Excuse me?!?” I shout, He rolls his eyes and looks at Y/N “You trying to go somewhere less crowded you look really uncomfortable with how many people are here” YOURE FUCKING DEAD I pull Y/N behind me and punch the asshole in the face. He stumbles back and returns the blow. Hitting him repeatedly I end up on top of him bashing my fist into his face. A large hand lifts me and a man in a yellow shirt begins dragging me out of the club as I try to swing around him at the man. Y/N’s hand grabs my hand and instantly I feel calm. Her head is down as we get into the car on our way back home

I feel her eyes burning the side of my face examining me to see if I am hurt. My anger growing as the concern on her face becomes more evident. “Why was he with you Y/N” My voice laced with sadness and jealousy. Her soft voice whines, obviously drunk “He just came up to and we started talking he bought me a couple drinks that’s all Kookie, I promise.” my heart breaks as she slurs her words, but the questions can’t stop. “Would you have gone home with him? Would you have let him fuck you?” My voice is shaky “WHAT? NO! Jungkook-ah I swear nothing like that would have happened I swear, the only person I actually WANT to fuck me is you. I mean Mark was really attractive and I'm sure he would have shown me a great time but I've never wanted to sleep with anyone but you kookie” I smile her statement makes me hard just thinking about her letting me fuck her “Don’t worry baby girl I'll do that for you.” I smirk as I pull into the driveway. I turn the car off and run over to the passenger side as I open the door she gets out and hugs me “Oh yeah Kookie? Are you gonna make me cum for you?” She smiles up at me. My cock twitching, the world begins to spin and suddenly for the first time all night I feel tipsy I wrap my arms around her waist, grabbing onto her hip pulling her ass against me slowly grinding my hard cock against her beautiful round ass. Her neck leaning to the side resting on my shoulder inviting my lips, I take the opportunity to tease the beautiful woman I'm going to turn into my little slut tonight. My lips spilling one of my deepest secrets “mmm Baby girl, I wanna eat your pussy so bad” I smack her ass seductively and she moans under her breathe. My cock rock hard probably deep red from the need for real relief the relief I’ve craved so badly ever since the first time I’ve seen you in a towel. I turn her around and thrown her over my shoulder and carry her into the house.

I wake up with a warm feeling on my chest, my eyes flutter open. The events from last night reply in my mind and I look down at Y/N. A smile creeps up onto my face. Slowly I make my way out of my bed sure to not wake Y/N to call my friend Jimin for advice on what to do now. “YO what's up Jungkookie” Jimin shouts through on the second ring.”1 don’t call me that 2 stop yelling I'm fucking hungover!” I growl. “What did you want then boy.” I swallow nervously “So, I kind of slept with Y/N last night” “SEE I TOLD YOU, YOURE IN LOVE WITH HER HAHAHAHAHA YOURE SO IN LOVE WITH HER!” He shouts, my head pounding, the untrue words of denial begin spewing out of my mouth “I don’t know Jimin we fucked like 4 times Jimin but that’s all she helped me cum and I helped her that’s all it was” “Yeahhhh, suuuuurrrrreeeee. When are you going to just admit you have feelings for her huh? It's okay you know”

“No I don’t have feelings for her, we used each other Jimin, It wasn’t like that this guy was talking to her at the club and she told me she wasn’t going to go home with him but let's be honest if I wasn’t there she would have went with him and I can't have some slut for a wife” The insults spew out of my mouth like vomit, my pride never accepting that Jimin could be right. “Dude that’s wrong man, but what if she thinks something is going to happen between you guys now? Like was it good enough for her you think?” He asks pointedly.

“No man I just helped her cum so she doesn’t start going out for some rando guy to get her off she doesn’t really expect anything from it. She just wanted to cum that’s how good little whores do it and from last night I know she's one of the best sluts I've ever met so easy to get her to do anything for me cause she's a sub” “Damn well if you're done with her let me -” His words making me regret my big ass ego and words “Look I got to go Jimin before she gets up I got to get he out of my bed before she thinks I want her there all the time-” “I'm just saying if you won't fuck her again I definitely will I don’t care about sloppy seconds” He interrupts “dude of course I'm gonna fuck her again it's one of the best pussies I've ever had......your stupid dude bye” I hang up the phone and hear Y/N’s door close.

I shower and get ready for the day as a text from Areum comes through my phone.

Areum <3: Oppa I wanna see you today, Lets go to the Park.

Me: No Areum I don’t think that’s a good idea

Areum: Why?!

Me: Because I'm married and I shouldn’t be out in public with another woman you know? If some photographer caught us my dad would kill me.

Her suggestion igniting an idea for me rushing to Y/N’s room. I stand in front of Y/N’s door my heart is pounding, as I knock lightly “Y/n-ie?” a small sniffle comes through the door, I knock again and try the handle “you okay?” her soft voice cracking as she shouts “Yeah...I’m fine” I pace back and forth, COME ON JUNGKOOK YOU CAN DO THIS JUST MAKE IT SEEM LIKE ITS NOT A DATE SHED SAY YES TO THAT RIGHT?RIGHT? Scratching the back of my neck my voice shaky “Did you want to go to breakfast maybe we can take a walk to Han River you said you like going there right?”

“Um...Honestly Jungkook, I'm not feeling too good I'm like really hungover and I'd like to take a shower" Her answer deflates me “Oh....well can I join you then?” I smirk, the thought of last night reappearing in my head, she's silent in return “Y/N-ie? Babe?” The word slipped, it felt so natural. “Um I'm sorry Kookie but I really don’t feel like it” my heart shatters, desperate for her body next to mine I beg “Oh okay, um when you're done can you come hang out and watch a that Invisible Man movie you wanted to see” “Um sure I'll see you in a bit bye Jungkook” I pout staring at the door, confused. What happened? Why are you acting so different? Did you regret last night? Do you regret letting me touch you the way no other man has? Did you hear my conversation with Jimin? No, if you heard that conversation you'd probably leave. My heart cracks at the thought

Did you enjoy giving yourself to me? Did you like the way I ate your tight little pussy? I sure loved the taste of her, the way you took him into your mouth and let me finish there. It drives me fucking crazy baby girl please let me in, I need to fix whatever it is to have his cock back in your mouth. The way her face twisted her orgasm, only thing to escape your lips was my name. My cock twitching as precum flows down. Fuck the feeling of your pussy as he came deep inside you, the smile you gave him when he kissed you as his cum flowed out of your pretty little pussy.

*Last Night*

“Fuck! Yes Jungkook, it feels so fucking good.” Y/N moans loudly. My cock pumping hard into her core, her legs wrapping around my waist. “That's my fucking pussy you got that baby girl” I push her hair out of her face and for her to look in my eyes. She nods “Just yours oppa, fuck, I don’t deserve this amazing cock oppa” Her word disheartening me. I kiss her softly, my tongue exploring her mouth her arms wrap around my neck. I thrust hard and fast into her tight cunt. Profanities spewing from my angel's lips begging me for more. “Never stop I’m yours oppa cum for me please I beg you cum for me”

The familiar knot in my stomach rises to the surface as her climax takes over her and spill my seed in her pussy, she looks at her core and beams at me pulling me back onto her pressing her lips against mine.

*Present*

I rush back to my bedroom with the thoughts of last night, my cock in hand the second I enter the room. Stroking it hard and fast at the thought of Y/N bouncing on my hard cock. Her beautiful tits in my face as she rides my hard cock. “Fuck! Y/N” I moan.

My eyes close, “fuck Y/n your pussy is so tight” The profanities flowing out of my mouth as my climax grows closer and closer. “Y/N yeah baby girl this is your cock, fuck all yours baby girl take it.” A loud thud alerts me I am no longer alone. Y/N’s here and she's heard the foul things he's been thinking about her. My eyes shoot open and my hand leaves my cock I shout “Y/N! I...UM...I WAS JUST....” She smiles seductively and walks toward me. “We’re you thinking about me Jungkook” She teased. I bite my lip and look down embarrassed. “Were you thinking about last night or the fact that you missed fucking me hard into the shower” I nod and sigh “both”. She lifts my face and presses her lips against mine as I pull her onto my bed

The face she makes as I pound into her make my cock twitch inside her tight little pussy. She takes it all moaning begging for more, “Fuck baby girl you take it so good, look at your pretty pussy taking this cock the way you should.... hmmm that’s my pussy baby girl” I praise her

“yes kookie-ah only yours” She tightens around me as her legs shake losing herself in the orgasm. “Yeah oh baby girl I'm gonna cum so deep in your pussy” I exclaim as I capture her lips with mine. “all mine baby girl” I thrust once more into her cumming hard. Jumping up I run to the bathroom, grab a wash cloth and run it in hot water.

“Baby I brought this for you t-” My statement interrupted by the emptiness to my room. “Babe!” I shout to her. Heading to her bedroom, to see if she wants to shower together. My heart warming at the thought of something so domestic. “Baby did you want- what are you doing?!” I shout frozen at her door, a confused look on my face. “I'm leaving Jungkook” she says as tears stream down her beautiful face. My heart races LEAVING?!? NO “why? You don’t want to be here anymore? Did I do something? I can fix it I swear but you can't go...you can't just go when we....” My voice cracking, she interrupts me “Areum misses you and you should focus on one girl Jungkook-ah" AREUM?.............FUCK! AREUM! I run to my room to find my phone. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY AREUM?!?!? The second the phone is in my hand y/n rushes past my bedroom door.

“Y/N-AH! DON’T GO PLEASE” I shout chasing after her “Areum is just some girl she's not anyone don’t just assume because some girl texted me she misses me that I'm going to run to her” I explain “You were with her last night.....you Fucked her last night not even an hour before you fucked me, my mouth” Shaking my head, pleading with her “No it's not like that I swear like you said I fucked her, Baby girl I can't fuck you. I make love to you please I'm begging you don’t go okay I know we haven't been the best but I can fix this don’t do this not when” ....I freeze you can't leave right not when I tell you how I feel you won't leave me right? “I love you please”

She shakes her head and walks toward the door as the sobs escape from my mouth “Stop please” I rush for the door and slam it shut. “You can't just leave, not after what we just did, not when I love you please” I beg. She smiles up at me and I can tell it’s a sad smile and kisses me. I wrap my hands around her waist kissing her with all the emotion I can to get her to see I'm serious. Soon my lips feel the shadow of her lips as I see her figure rush out the door and into her car. Running after her I grab her passenger car door handle banging on the window “please” I love you “stop” I love you “stop the car” I sob, she looks away from me and my heart completely breaks “get out please stay with me, BABY PLEASE” I shout as she reverses out of the driveway and speeds off. “FUCK!” I sprint after her car “COME BACK PLEASE I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU BABY” I drop to my knees the tears streaming down my face as she disappears.

#bts angst #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook

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chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 4 years ago

Note

Alois tfining into a bull boy??

Alois had to admit, he didn’t think he’d ever want to settle down anywhere else but Garreg Mach; it’d been his home for so long, and he’d fought and bled for it most of his life. But, this quaint little village that his small had moved to after the war had calmed down was, in a word, picturesque!

The main center of the village was small, just a few buildings loosely strung together -- a tavern where the locals often ended up at the end of the day for food and drink, a couple of shops geared mostly towards supplying the farmers in the area. The surrounding area was all farmland, lush and green and teeming with life everywhere you looked. It both felt sleepy and bounding with energy at the same time. What was best about it, though, was that the war hadn’t touched this place, and in turn, it was a safe haven to raise his family in peace.

Despite his slight reservations of becoming a farmer -- after all, he’d been a knight for so many years -- Alois had slotted into the new role quite easily. He was no stranger to hard work, and it was incredibly rewarding to see his efforts result in something visibly good instead of blood and violence as it had once been. Though every day was ended exhausted and dirty, he couldn’t help but grin as he thought of the crops growing out in their fields and the few but content animals they kept.

He was happy, and perhaps it was this contentedness that made it so easy for the oddities of this little farming community to slip under his radar.

Now, it wasn’t often that Alois went into the main part of the village to spend time at the tavern, as his wife often busied herself cooking most of the day, but the jaunty music and jovial voices brightening up the night one evening just seemed too good to pass up on. He told himself he’d just have a drink or two, chat with his neighbors, and then head back to the homestead.

Of course, as soon as he stepped into the glowing warmth of the tavern, he knew it wouldn’t be so simple.

“Alois!” boomed a loud, deep voice, an absolutely massive individual lumbering over to slap a meaty arm around Alois’ shoulders in greeting. Judoc was something akin to the head of the village, though as he was aware, there wasn’t anything official about it. In a room full of people, Judoc stood out; he was incredibly tall, and almost as wide as he was tall. Wavy, black hair and a thick beard that complimented his sun-tanned skin nicely; big, brown eyes that almost put one in mind of a cow or deer’s for how soft and warm they always were.

“Been a while since we had you join us!” Judoc continued boisterously, jostling Alois playfully before walking them both over to the bar and thrusting a large mug of beer into Alois’ hands. The frothy head on the drink sloshed over the lip of the mug, and Alois was quick to take a drink in order to not spill anymore in case Judoc continued.

“Ha, I know, I know -- I don’t like to disappoint the wife, though,” Alois chuckled goodnaturedly, taking another sip of his beer. It was exceptionally good; heavy and earthy, with a strange but not unpleasant undertone of creaminess to it that seemed completely unique to this village. He’d never had alcohol like it before, and it was hard not to take large swigs of it, but he was trying to pace himself. “Still, you all seemed to be having a good time in here! So, I just couldn’t help myself from checking in on the party.”

Judoc and some of the other men within earshot nodded along in understanding, raising their own drinks in a lazy sort of camaraderie.

“As a good husband should do! Happy wife, happy life, hm?” the big brunet concurred, winking as he replaced Alois’ suddenly empty mug of beer with a fresh one. He hadn’t even realized he’d made his way through his first drink so fast, but he didn’t question it too much as the easing warmth of the booze started to sink in.

The night continued on as such. It was nice to chat and catch up with everyone else, and the constant flow of alcohol made it easy for Alois to forget just how much he was drinking and how late it was getting. It was all just a blur of happy chatter, drinking and laughing.

“--so, you think you’d be up for the task?” Judoc asked, most of whatever he had said goin completely over Alois’ head as he found himself enthusiastically nodding in agreement to whatever it was. The larger man beamed, slapping him on the back in congratulations. “Wonderful! I know our village is small, but this is a great honor! Always good to get some new blood in. Most of us have already done this before, but it always works best with someone who hasn’t taken part yet.”

The small part of his brain that wasn’t utterly sloshed right now tried to shove alarm or concern to the forefront of his mind, but the brief feeling was soundly pushed away when the entire tavern erupted into uproarious cheering as Judoc announced his agreement to...to whatever it was he’d said yes to. Alois found himself crowded in by a bunch of rowdy, otherentusuastic farmers, all wanting to buy him a congratulatory drink -- and, with how drunk he already was now, saying no to the offerings just wasn’t in the cards.

As night wore on into early morning, Alois could really only recall snippets of what was going on. Everything seemed out of focus, and at times, simply bizarre. The drinks just kept coming, and despite how bloated he felt, he couldn’t fight off the friendly hospitality of his neighbors. There were vague flashes of conversation here and there, many of the men hyping up the harvest festival that was going to start up in the next few days. They kept talking about the honor of his role, and how great it had been when they’d done it. As the room tilted in and out of focus, Aloud could have sworn that the people he was speaking to started to look less human and more bovine -- a tail on someone over there, a set of horns on Judoc, ears on several others.

It was hard to differentiate the real from the utterly booze altered. Steadily heading towards a drunken blackout, he doesn’t realize that he’s not exempt from the odd, animal-like attributes he’d started to see on the others. The other men watch approvingly as Alois dozily settles himself down in a chair, nearly missing his destination but managing to sit down heavily with a huff. Nursing what remains of another beer someone had passed into his hand, he’s oblivious to the way the chair creaks under him as his body begins to shift and grow.

What he’d thought was simply bloating from drinking too much was quickly proving to be much more than that as his stomach pushes out almost liquidly with fat, rounding out heavily until it came to a sloshing settle into his lap. With so much sudden growth, his shirt did its best to cover him, but the material gave up quickly against the onslaught of chub and rode up the bloated dome of his beer belly until the cloth bunched up under his plush moobs. His strong chest had puffed up just a moment after his belly surged forward into his lap, growing into deliciously plump and meaty pecs that stretched his overtaxed shirt enough to show off his pert nipples and the round outline of his moobs with no trouble at all. The little trail of fuzz just under his navel had seemed to gain ground the more his stomach stretched, his belly partially coated in short, fur-like hairs.

Beer sloshed down his chin and into the valley of his moobs as it became almost awkward to drink without simply chugging it messily; his nose and mouth shifting forward and together to create a soft, boxy muzzle of a bovine as he finished off his drink with a hiccuping moo. The rest of his face followed suit, becoming soft and round, but still definably masculine despite the pudge. His head ached horridly for a moment, as if his hangover was deciding to visit early, Alois shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the discomfort as his ears elongated and flapped about with the movement, two beautiful, curling horns poking out from his temples surprisingly smoothly.

His arms and legs plumped up a little, but mostly retained their muscular forms -- if anything, they bulked up a bit more, really stressing his clothes to their limits. But his ass was another story. Similarly to his gut, his ass grew out in a tidal wave of lard, quickly filling out of the seat of his pants and then some, seams tearing wantonly as his rear grew out into a lovely cushioning of fat. With his trousers already torn through completely by his ass, Alois hardly even felt the swatting tail of a cow sprout out just above his titanic back end.

On the brink of passing out into a blissfully dunk sleep, Alois only just caught the wishy washy words of Judoc pronouncing that this harvest was sure to be a bountiful one if the festival had such a promising start to fattening up its bull already.

#Anonymous #male weight gain #male wg #chubby!alois #bull transformation #bull tf #did i make up words for this yeah fuck off #have some b e e f

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mxbitters · 4 years ago

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would you happen to have any advice for someone who wants to wear mens clothing for the first time? I've always worn very feminine clothing because that's how I grew up I guess and I'm scared to change, but I know this is not who I am. In my head I am nb or something more on the male side but on the outside everyone sees me as girly girl. I also don't really know what to buy in mens stuff, everything is so different and I don't know how to fashion in mens. (also large chest issue I hate it sm)

hi!!! i’m so sorry i didn’t respond to this earlier, i had a lot of thoughts but very little energy but i’m in a little better of a spot for talking about this stuff, clothes are a very big aspect of how i identify myself so i get you!! here’s what’s helped me, and then i’ll get into like actually changing how you dress and stuff too!!

first of all, sizing:

this guide is like as old as time itself but i’ve found it’s super useful. i’ll go in order and sprinkle in what i know from experience.

pants wise, i have trouble finding my size as i think it’d be a 28 or 29 in men’s (don’t quote me on that i don’t even know) in men’s but honestly i’ve found that if you can’t find it in the men’s section, you can probably find something that works for you in the boy’s section. however i tend to stick to women’s pants usually just because it’s easier for me to navigate and we all know nobody can get my emo ass out of the black skinny jeans so i think it’s really just a taste thing. however, with men’s pants you might need a belt because gendered pants are definitely shaped differently, in my case men’s pants are usually super long for me so i end up having to pull them all the way like over my hips (and i have really high hips so like) so it ends up around my stomach so i usually need a belt in that case.

when it comes to shirts, i think the chart’s sizing is pretty accurate, however chest dysphoria is no joke and i get you with that. technically speaking i’m a men’s size small when it comes to shirts, but when it’s summer especially and i can’t bind all the time, it gets uncomfortable. so usually my strategy is i opt for a size or two up. i also tend to french tuck(ok thank tan france for that), try and wear button ups at work, and always go for vertical rather than horizontal stripes- all of these things can contribute to drawing attention away from the chest area, the vertical lines of both button ups and vertical stripes are really great for height dysphoria too; they draw the eye up.

i’ll bring up the obligatory thing about binding- it’s not everyone’s thing. and if you’re in an unsafe situation for that, i’m not going to encourage you go out and get one. however, if you do want to bind, remember:

- don’t bind with tape or try to make your own binder (i tried the tights thing before. it doesn’t work and also it hurts, BAD)

- if you want to get a binder, steer clear of am*zon (except for underworks), anything that says anything along the lines of “tomboy lesbian les,” anything off websites like wish, etc.

i took a screenshot of the average thing you’d see on am*zon. as you can see a lot of people try and capitalize on trans people especially. most of them, quite frankly, can hurt you a lot. my mom, meaning well, gave me a binder a friend was giving away off wish. it had clasps on the side and it wouldn’t even fit around me. if it has clasps, it’s bad news. dysphoria sucks, but when it comes to binding, you need to be able to breathe, it can’t be digging into you or restricting anything because there’s a lot of important shit in there and you don’t want to put yourself in danger. also, quite frankly, unsafe binding can make things like top surgery a lot more difficult to actually happen- you need to look out for your health.

- your best bets brand-wise are underworks (more medical based but effective) or even more so, gc2b, which is trans-owned. here’s gc2b’s sizing chart:

- also the standard lecture, don’t bind for over 8-10 hours, do NOT sleep in it, don’t do any heavy lifting or any sort of over-exertion of your body in it, for the love of all that is good PLEASE do not wear it when it’s super hot and most importantly, listen to your body. dysphoria is awful but breaking a rib just isn’t worth it.

okay off my tangent about binding, now to shoes :D so shoes are pretty straightforward from the guide but i’d note that men’s shoes will feel a lot more.. boxy. they’re not so bad when you get used to it, but my strategy is if it’s less comfortable, go for something classic looking and unisex, like converse, vans, combat boots, etc. because regardless of how they’re gendered, they give off the same vibe and nobody’s gonna notice or care how they’re gendered.

and socks and underwear, honestly you do not need to change those if you don’t feel like it, i generally go for like a boy short type thing but it’s really nobody’s business but your own so whatever floats your boat, y’know?

so when it comes to changing how you dress, i completely get that it’s intimidating. the way i went about it, i always sort of dressed in a similar way. i got into the emo subculture in 7th grade, more or less, and that’s when i started wearing band shirts and flannels and such. the flannels, converse, beanies, all those really helped me when i first started questioning my gender. my first few flannels were definitely, clearly from the women’s section; they’d be fitted a certain way, be almost glittery, etc. but when i found the right ones, i realized that that layering, that repping a band so that what i’m wearing is more about expressing the things i love instead of how i look, that changed my life. i find that that’s something that really helped me when starting to transition socially. it’s not about “passing” to the world because honestly that focus is not going to really change much except make you a lot more miserable. it’s more about experimentation, finding the things that make you happy, that spark some of that marie kondo joy, and that make you excited to get up and get dressed.

when i was doing my little middle school emo kid transition and later on my actual coming out, it was all about realizing that you don’t have to dive straight in, and you don’t need to do everything. just like you don’t have to listen to every band and wear every cliche accessory, you don’t have to jump into a completely unfamiliar section immediately if you’re not comfortable with that. maybe you can find button ups in the women’s sections, pair them with a good pair of pants or find a jacket or 12 that make you feel more comfortable walking down the street.

nowadays, i associate myself much more with the punk scene. i have a faux leather jacket i painted myself, it’s really brash and bold and most importantly i can walk around with it 100% proud of what i’m wearing and who i am. in that way, i refer to it as my battle armor. at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks about what you’re wearing. it doesn’t matter if it’s a shock to them. when you find your battle armor, you can do anything. you seem incredible, and no matter what anybody tells you, you deserve to feel that sort of pride in who you are and you deserve to be able to wear that on your sleeve (literally!).

if you need any more help, or i went off on the completely wrong tangent, please don’t hesitate to send another ask or message me, this was kind of cathartic to write and talk about so i hope this helped!! have a great night :) <3

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

Text

Like Rabbits - Chapter 14

Like Rabbits: A Black Widow/WinterHawk Fanfic

Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Rating: E Square: @winterhawkbingo - Cum Play

Word Count: 1599

Warnings: Pregnancy stuff, smut (MM, oral sex, anal sex, cum play)

Synopsis: While you and Natasha are contemplating starting a family together, Bucky and Clint are doing the exact same thing. So two couples go take the same path to parenthood together.

A/N: This is a Clint/Bucky chapter.

Chapter 14

As the due date for the twins drew nearer, things had started to come together nicely. The house still needed some work, but it had been split into two living areas, with a shared foyer, and doors connecting the kitchens and one shared hall upstairs for the kids to pass through when they got older and so that both sets of parents could check on them at night.

With all the work that Clint, in particular, had been putting in and the fact that everything they were doing was about the babies or the house, Bucky felt they needed to grab one last chance at having some alone time, just the two of them before it all became about nighttime feedings and diaper changes.

You were scheduled in for induction at 39 weeks but because it was twins they could come at any time. Because of that, Bucky decided to stay close by so they could get back in plenty of time to be there for their birth.

He booked a bed and breakfast in the Hampton’s by the beach and left you and Natasha in charge of the pets. The drive had been nice. Clint had chattered away constantly in that unselfconscious way he always did. It was a trait that Bucky had always found annoying when they first met, but now he loved it about him. It was almost like it took the pressure off him. Clint would find a way to communicate so he felt part of it too.

The B&B was an old manor style house and the owned enjoyed showing the two men around. Telling them about the history of the building. How it was haunted. Letting them know when and where breakfast was served and taking them to their room. When the door closed behind them Clint dropped his bag and flopped down on the queen-sized bed. “This house is older than you. That’s a rare treat.” He teased.

Bucky smirked, holding back laughter as he shook his head. He went to the bedside table and put his phone on charge as he tried not to break down into laughter. “How creepy was that room full of dolls?”

Clint sat up and grinned. “So creepy. Did the listing warn against a haunted doll room?”

“No! You think I’d have booked the one place with a haunted doll room if it was listed?” Bucky said and Clint fell back on the bed laughing.

“Oh man, this weekend is gonna be great,” he wheezed. “But at least it’s close to the beach and has complimentary cookies and cheese platter.”

“I brought Champagne too,” Bucky said.

Clint smiled. “Did you bring glasses?”

“Uh, no.”

“Gonna have to just pour it straight into my mouth then.” Clint joked.

“I was thinking we could take it out with us to dinner,” Bucky teased. “But I’ve got something right here if you need to have your mouth occupied.”

Clint smirked and patted his thighs. “Oh yeah? Get it out for me then.”

Bucky began to unfasten his jeans and Clint reached over and hooked his hand into Bucky’s pockets and pulled him forward. Bucky pushed his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock and Clint immediately started nuzzling at it. He kitten licked up and down Bucky’s flaccid shaft and nipped at his foreskin, playfully teasing him to hardness.

As the blood rushed to Bucky’s cock and it hardened, Clint began to suck on the head and pumped his fist up and down Bucky’s length, shifting the foreskin up and down. Bucky tangled his fingers in Clint’s hair and tugged lightly as he watched on.

Clint pulled Bucky’s jeans down a little more and gripped Bucky’s ass, kneading the soft fleshing in his fingers and he pulled Bucky’s erection into his mouth. He sucked hard, bobbing his head up and down on Bucky’s dick as his fingers slipped between Bucky’s asscheeks and teased over his asshole.

Bucky groaned and his a heavy heat pressed down in his groin making his cock twitched and throb in Clint’s mouth, leaking precum over the archer’s tongue. Clint kept making pleased little humming sounds as he gazed up into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky groaned and began to thrust. To begin with it was just gently, adding a little more to the way Clint was working his cock. As Clint submitted, relaxing his jaw and curling his tongue around Bucky’s shaft, Bucky picked up his speed.

He fucked Clint’s throat hard and deep, making the blond choke a little as he tried to adjust to Bucky’s size. The smile never left Clint’s face though. Something that was almost as big of a turn-on as having the man’s pretty lips wrapped around his cock. He loved that Clint enjoyed himself so openly. It was something Bucky had such trouble doing.

Bucky’s balls began to tighten with his impending orgasm and he grunted and picked up his pace. “Gonna come.” He warned, so as not to take Clint completely by surprise.

Clint sucked eagerly, trying to speed up the process and with a groan, Bucky pulled back a little and released. As his cock throbbed, releasing in hot ropes, in Clint’s mouth he pulled all the way out and painted Clint’s face with the thick white mess.

Clint hummed happily and opened his mouth showing Bucky what it held inside before swallowing it down. He ran a finger through the mess on his face and closed his eyes and hummed as he sucked it clean. Bucky went to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth, finding Clint stripping off his clothes hastily. Clint sat down as soon as he saw Bucky and looked up excitedly. “You look like you’re waiting to open your Christmas present.” Bucky said as he wiped Clint’s face clean.”

“That was fun. I just wanna see what else you have planned,” Clint replied.

“I don’t really have anything planned,” Bucky said as he removed his shirt.

Cint hummed and resumed stripping off. “Guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”

Clint was naked first and he grabbed his bag and took out the lube as Bucky kicked his pants away and climbed into bed. Clint crawled over the gaudy floral quilt and wrapped himself around Bucky, so they were a tangle of limbs as they started to kiss. It was deep and tender, their lips caressing each other’s and their tongues dancing together.

Clint’s erection ground against Bucky’s skin leaving a trail of precum over his hip and thigh. His own cock began to twitch again and he silently thanked the super serum for his almost non-existent refractory period.

He pulled Clint on top of him and the archer moved between his legs and began to grind down on him. They groaned into the kiss, Bucky’s skin tingled and his scalp prickled as Clint’s fingers dragged over his scalp.

Clint grabbed the lube and slicked his cock, before lining it up to Bucky’s ass. Bucky moaned softly at the slight, teasing pressure against his hole. The moan turned into a groan as Clint pushed forward and Bucky’s ring muscle first stretched and then gave as Clint filled him.

Bucky lifted his knees up to his chest and dug his fingers into Clint’s back as they kissed and Clint fucked him slow and deep. Bucky’s cock dragged along Clint’s abs, leaving a sticky trail of precum each time Clint rolled his hips.

It wasn’t just fucking. It was making love and it had been so long since they’d had the time to connect like this and Bucky relished it, thankful they’d taken this time to do it before the twins were born.

Clint picked up his pace and Bucky reached between them and started to jerk off in time with the snap of Bucky’s hips into him. Bucky broke the kiss and arched his back, angling his hips so that Clint was hitting his prostate just right. It made his body shudder and his muscles tense. With a low groan, Bucky bucked his hips and came, spilling onto his stomach.

Clint continued to thrust into him, looking down into Bucky’s eyes, his usual blue blown out in lust. His breath became shallow and he pulled out quickly, jerking his cock until he came too, releasing in waves onto Bucky, their thick fluids mixing together.

Bucky smirked up at Clint and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He let it go slowly and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m such a mess now, Clint.”

Clint sucked in air through his teeth and trembled slightly. He ran his fingers through the thick pools of semen on Bucky’s stomach. “Yeah, you are.”

“You gonna help me out?” Bucky asked.

Clint groaned still swirling his fingers around in the mess. He licked his lips and leaned down, slowly and deliberately licking stripes up Bucky’s stomach. The rough pull of Clint’s tongue over Bucky’s skin made it break out in goosebumps and straight away his cock began to twitch again. His libido seemed determined to keep the two men locked in the bedroom for the remainder of the day.

Bucky’s phone began to vibrate on the bedside table and he reached up and grabbed it, seeing Natasha’s name lit up on the screen.

He hit answer and pressed the phone to his ear. “Tasha? Is something wrong?” Clint froze mid lick. His tongue stayed pressed to Bucky’s skin as he looked up at him.

“James,” Natasha answered, her voice tight and slightly panicked. “I realize you probably only just arrived. But you need to come back. She’s in labor.”

// NEXT

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sachigram · 5 years ago

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Syzygy

“Shizuo didn't ask for any of this, but maybe there is such a thing as being in the right place at the right time.”

((click here to read on ao3!))

Shizuo hates places like this.

Sure, he used to bar tend. It was actually one of his most favorite gigs before that bastard flea got him arrested and fired, but that was a swanky place, rarely any incidences to invoke the wrath of the muscled bouncer usually lurking in the corner. This place is another story entirely, and Shizuo is considering asking if Shinra has any ibuprofen on him to combat the reverberance of the bass in his ears.

It's not anyone's fault but his own. Shizuo could have said no to coming out. He wanted to, but Celty asked him, said it wouldn't be fun without all her friends there, and Shizuo reluctantly agreed on the grounds that Shinra treat him to drinks and bar food, preferably wings. Shinra has delivered on his end of the bargain, but no one else deemed to show up but the three of them, Kadota and the gang citing they had something else to do, which is likely staking out in front of the comic store to await the release of some closet manga. Shizuo is tipsy, has a headache, and is a third-wheel.

He grinds his teeth, looks around to distract himself while the two lovebirds across from him snuggle it up in the dingy-ass booth like it's the finest linen in the country. There's no one worth paying attention to. Pretty women are all over, lining up the walls and dressed in—what could be considered clothing, if one was feeling generous. Shizuo can recognize their appeal, but he doesn't want to strike up a conversation with any of them because...what would he even say? Besides, he doesn't think he'll meet the love of his life in a place like this. People always say it happens when you aren't looking.

There isn't a band playing tonight. Sometimes local bands get gigs here, and Shizuo wishes there was one on stage to distract himself with, but instead electronic music is blaring, the lights are dim, and the bar is so packed that Shizuo doubts he could get another drink without standing there like an asshole for a few minutes. He sighs heavily, tongues his teeth, considers throwing the table into the dancing crowd, decides against it. He looks up when he hears his name being called.

“What?” he asks, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

“I said you don't look like you're having fun!” Shinra says, leaning over the table to holler into Shizuo's face. Shizuo throws a balled up bar napkin at him.

“I wonder why the fuck that is,” Shizuo huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back into the booth.

“I'm sorry. You can go if you want to. I know this evening didn't turn out how I described.” Despite just being text on a screen, Shizuo can feel the emotion in Celty's words, and he knows her tone would be apologetic if he could hear it.

“It's fine, I just— It's loud.”

“It's a bar!” Shinra shouts. If Shizuo is tipsy, Shinra must be wasted, and he's certainly getting more handsy with Celty than Shizuo would like to be witness to.

“No shit.”

“Really, Shizuo, you can go! We probably will soon too. Shinra is an awful drunk, he's likely to cause a scene soon.” Celty's screen is almost too bright in this low light. Shizuo considers his options. What the fuck else is he going to do, sit here for another hour? Watch the scantily dressed women turn down advances from desperate men? He could even go into the graffiti-laden bathroom, if he was feeling adventurous.

Going home really is the most appealing option. It's not his fault no one else came. Shizuo should have been smart and ditched as well, seeing as Shinra only ever wants alone time with Celty anyway. Besides, the wings were too greasy, and Shizuo is pretty sure he has leftover yakitori in his fridge from overestimating his appetite two days earlier. Worst case, he'll just eat some ice cream and call it a night. It sounds above and beyond what he's currently doing.

He's getting ready to say he's on his way out when a scent catches his attention. A familiar scent. His fingers grip the table, cracking the wood underneath as his eyes scan the crowd. Surely Shinra didn't invite Izaya, right? This was supposed to be a friendly gathering, and there's nothing friendly about that parasitic fucker. But—no. Shinra wouldn't have done that. Shinra knows better. But as Shizuo watches Shinra drunkenly slosh whatever the fuck is in that glass down the front of his shirt, he wonders is Shinra actually knows anything at all.

It takes longer than it normally would for Shizuo to locate Izaya. There's a lot of people in here for one, and for another, Izaya isn't dressed in his usual attire. He ditched the coat, has opted for a short sleeved black T-shirt that appears to be artfully tucked in to some light gray plaid slacks that are rolled up around the ankles. Shizuo has never understood that “rolling up” bullshit. Why buy pants if you have to do that to make them fit? Just wear shorts if you want them shorter! And of course Izaya would be one of the idiots indulging in the trend. Of fucking course. Shizuo grinds his teeth, prepares for a fight, but Izaya...isn't alone?

A tall, well-dressed man is guiding Izaya through the crowd, a hand settled between Izaya's bony shoulder-blades. They settle at an empty table by the bar, and Shizuo watches with the impossible realization that Izaya didn't come here for him.

For some reason, Shizuo feels sick to his stomach. He blames the shitty wings.

Izaya already has a drink in his hand, and so does the well-dressed asshole. They're talking, and Shizuo can see Izaya smiling, laughing at whatever the hell is being said. Well-Dressed reaches across the table, touches his fingers to Izaya's, and Izaya pulls his hand back, makes a playful admonishing gesture before resting his chin in his hand and giving a sultry gaze back to the man.

“What are you looking at?” Shinra asks suddenly, and Shizuo tears his eyes away from Izaya's pouty lips. So Shinra has no idea Izaya is here? That means Izaya really is here with someone for...a date?

It doesn't sit well with Shizuo. At all.

“I need a drink,” Shizuo says, downing the rest of his and standing so quickly it rattles the table. He hurries to the bar, settles at the corner, not really caring how long it takes for the bartender to get to him because that's not why he came over here. It's very loud with everyone talking over the thrumming music, but Shizuo focuses on as much as he can on what Izaya is talking about.

He has to make sure Izaya isn't scheming something, right? The guy he's with could be bad news. They could be planning trouble.

“—glad you could come out with me, Izaya-san.” Well-Dressed's voice is deep, and apparently he's on a first name basis with Izaya. Shizuo turns his head a bit to see the guy's fingers have once again settled over Izaya's.

“Your choice of venue is...surprising,” Izaya says, taking a sip from his drink. “It's not usually where I conduct my business, but I'm always up for a change of scenery.”

“Come now, surely you know this isn't just a meeting,” Well-Dressed says. “You came here looking absolutely gorgeous, after all. Did you dress up for me?”

Shizuo grinds his teeth, forces himself to stop so he can keep listening.

“Ahaha! Well, I never reveal my secrets, you know? You said to wear whatever I wanted.” Izaya takes another sip. “I'm glad to know you find it appealing.”

“I do. I do. You always look amazing, Izaya-san, but you look especially so when you're here just for me.”

“Now, now, Touma-san. You're being very touchy. If you start too forward too fast, you'll burn out soon.”

“Oh? Do we have plans later?” Well-Dressed, Touma-san, asks.

“Who's to say? The night is young, after all. I'm only suggesting you pace yourself. If you pass out, I'm certainly not going to feel pity for you,” Izaya says.

“How cruel!” Touma laughs, downing his drink in one go. “I like that about you, Izaya-san. I promise I'll be coherent for whatever you want me for later.”

“A bold promise,” Izaya says, following Touma's lead and drinking the remainder of his glass. “Who knows what I could want? It's a risk you're taking.”

“I'm a gambling man,” Touma all but purrs. Shizuo tastes bile in the back of his throat.

“Can I help you?”

Shizuo looks up to see the bartender is in front of him at last.

“Uh, yeah, I'll just...have a beer,” Shizuo says absently, still trying to focus on Izaya.

“What kind?” The bartender asks, sounding impatient. Shizuo hears Izaya laugh again, feels insane with the need to know why.

“I don't care! Anything!” Shizuo snaps, and then quieter he adds, “I'm sorry, no, just— Your choice, your favorite. It's my last of the night, so surprise me.”

The bartender goes off to do just that, leaving Shizuo back to his eavesdropping. A new voice has joined the two, and Shizuo turns a bit to see a woman hovering around the table, chatting it up with Izaya.

“Thank you for your patience!” she's saying, a tray in her hand. “It's so crazy tonight! But we expected it, right? What can I get for you?”

“I'll take another Macallan, rocks. And you, Izaya-san? I'm treating you, of course.”

“Here you go,” the bartender says as he returns, setting a glass of beer in front of Shizuo. “Do you want to try it first?”

“No thanks, that's great,” Shizuo says, fishing some money out of his pocket. He can always force Shinra to pay him back later. Speaking of Shinra, Shizuo should probably go check back in with Celty. But then how will he know what's going on with Izaya?

Shizuo sighs, tastes the beer. It's good.

What's he even doing here? He didn't want to come out at all, and now he's spying on Izaya, who is obviously not plotting anything, and just wants to fuck this douchey Touma guy later. Shizuo doesn't know why that bothers him so much, but it does, it does, and the fact that it does pisses Shizuo off to no end because he can't figure out why it would.

He should just go home. Finish this beer, say his goodbyes, go home, sleep off these weird, drunken feelings. He decides to do that, but first, he looks over at the couple one more time when he hears the waitress return.

She's very pretty, and she seems to think Izaya is either also pretty or nice or maybe both, because she strikes a conversation with him, a small flush on her face, and Izaya is nothing but pleasant in his responses. Shizuo growls at the thought, because she doesn't even know Izaya, and maybe this Touma guy doesn't either, maybe Izaya is the problem, so Shizuo looks at Touma just in time to see the glimpse of Touma's hand over Izaya's glass before quickly retreating and—

And.

“Fuck,” Shizuo says, realizing what it is he just saw. He considers his options, puts a hand in his hair and yanks. What the hell is he supposed to do in this situation?! Since when should he be the one to save Orihara Izaya?! “That fucker can handle himself. And if not, he'd deserve it. This whole thing is fucking—stupid, ugh, I'm pissed off,” Shizuo mutters to himself, drawing a few looks from those around him. Angrily, he chews the inside of his cheek. “It's not my problem. It's not like I wanted to be here or see that. Nope. It's his own damn fault for going out with shady trash.”

“Are you...okay?” A man to his right asks.

“Fuck off,” Shizuo snaps, and the guy runs away. Shizuo turns again to Izaya, sees Izaya take a drink from the glass, and Shizuo doesn't think, can't think as he marches towards Izaya's table, clearing a path through the crowd by shoving and not caring who gets mad about it.

“Shizu-chan!” Izaya almost shouts, and Shizuo takes one second to wonder how drunk Izaya is already before he yanks Touma out of his chair by his collar. “What a surprise.”

“You know this clown?!” Touma sputters, and Shizuo snarls at him, lifts his feet right off the ground.

“He's an old friend,” Izaya says with a grin, and Shizuo is too late to stop Izaya from taking another long sip of the drink, but Shizuo does manage to reach back and slap it out of his hand before anymore damage is done. “Well,” Izaya huffs. “That was just unnecessary.”

“This fucker put something in your drink!” Shizuo snarls first to Izaya, and then he shakes Touma back and forth, makes the bastard's head bobble like a toy. “You think no one here would notice something like that, huh?! You think everyone is stupid? That I'm stupid?! Are you CALLING me STUPID?!”

Izaya observes the shattered glass on the floor, frowns, and looks up at Shizuo with an entirely bizarre expression. Izaya should be concerned, he should be pissed, he should be asking Shizuo to kill this worthless guy, but as it is, Izaya is only watching Shizuo with a dopey grin on his face, and then he stifles giggles behind his hands.

“Oh no!” Izaya says, seemingly unconcerned. “I'm in real danger now! I've really done it this time.”

“What the fuck—“ Shizuo starts, but he's distracted by Touma's fist connecting with his face.

“Actually,” Izaya lilts, “Touma-san has really done it this time.”

To Shizuo's credit, he only punches Touma once or twice before flinging him across the entire room. Touma collides with a wall, lands in a crumpled heap of limbs, and doesn't stand back up. Shizuo stands with his fists clenched, ignoring the shock of the crowd in favor of turning back to Izaya, who is—trying to flag down a waitress for more drinks.

“Izaya!” Shizuo snaps, slapping the table and making Izaya almost jump out of his own skin. Izaya grins and looks up at him, makes a real show of giving Shizuo his undivided attention.

“Yes?”

“Did you fucking hear me?! That guy drugged you! He put something in your glass and you drank it!” Shizuo shakes the table a bit more, but Izaya only laughs again.

“Yes, I heard, and that's very unfortunate. Nothing I can do about it now. Boo, Shizu-chan, I think you scared everyone away,” Izaya says with a pout.

Shizuo sees red.

“How are you not getting this?! Who the fuck knows what he gave you? Shouldn't you be—I don't know, scared? You need to go to the hospital before it kicks in!”

“Relax, would you? It was probably just a roofie. It wouldn't be the first time.” Izaya stands, stumbles a bit, and turns to face Shizuo with such a dramatic flair that Shizuo honestly wonders if Izaya will hit the ground. “Besides, why would you care? Shouldn't you be trying to kill me now?”

“I—“ Shizuo begins. He thinks of a lie, but that's bullshit anyway, and what does he care what Izaya thinks? “I won't fight you when you're like this. It wouldn't be fair, and I'm not sleazy and underhanded like you.”

“How noble of you,” Izaya says. “I'm very impressed. Remind me to send you a fruit basket later. Or...a tub of Milk Bones.” Izaya suddenly bursts into laughter, and Shizuo is so baffled he forgets to be angry. “Get it?! Because—it's a dog treat—and you love milk...!”

“How much have you had?” Shizuo asks. He never thought he'd see Izaya like this. Getting drunk together is something friends do, or strangers who have no reason to dislike each other yet. Seeing an enemy in this state is...otherworldly.

“Oh, I don't know. Touma-san was boring. Did you hear him? Hey, were you watching us?” Izaya's gaze sharpens, and Shizuo feels himself jolt to attention, but then Izaya is giggling again. “He was so uninteresting that I wanted to drink myself stupid!”

Shizuo hates to admit it, but he knows Izaya well enough to know this isn't like Izaya at all. Izaya is careful, quick, untouchable. Izaya allowing any of this to happen seems like an impossibility, and Shizuo is waiting for Izaya to pull a knife out and say, “just kidding!”

“That's really fucking stupid,” Shizuo says, and Izaya stops laughing as abruptly as he started.

“Well, you are an expert in stupidity.” Izaya sighs and then he turns on his heel, sways, rights himself before he tumbles over. “See ya, Shizu-chan. Remind me to thank you later!”

Shizuo reacts before he can think better of it. He reaches out and grabs Izaya's collar, yanks him backwards until he's falling, and then Shizuo picks him up under the armpits like Izaya is a diseased stray that might bite him.

“Shizu—! Put me down!” Izaya snaps, kicking his feet out in what very much resembles a tantrum.

“Shinra is here. You should go home with him so you don't die.”

“I don't want to go home with Shinra! I want to get another drink!”

“And you don't fucking NEED another drink, I-za-ya!”

“Like you care what I need! Why are you—ugh, put me down! If you aren't going to snap my neck, I don't want you anywhere near me!”

“As if I want to be— Wait. Why would you want me to snap your neck?!”

Shizuo's violence didn't do much in thinning the crowd. The place is still packed, and it takes a while to carry Izaya back to where Shizuo was sitting earlier with his friends, especially because Izaya is fighting against being carried. Of course, Shinra and Celty aren't there anymore. Why would anything be easy?

Izaya seems to have worn himself out. His limbs are hanging by his sides, and from what Shizuo can see, Izaya is pouting very openly.

“Fuck. They left already,” Shizuo hisses. He doesn't know how long he's been gone from the table, but he can't be mad at them for assuming Shizuo was already gone.

“Can you let me go now?” Izaya asks. Shizuo shakes him around violently, and the next thing Izaya says sounds like “Guh.”

Grumbling to himself, Shizuo carries Izaya out of the bar and into the chilly night air where it's quieter. Seeing Izaya silhouetted in the neon lights of the city is a much more familiar sight to Shizuo, but he can't pretend any of this is normal behavior for them. Izaya has resumed trying to kick him, and based on Izaya's increasing giggles, Shizuo can tell Izaya is still drunk as shit.

“You know, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says in a whimsical voice, “if you hadn't thrown Touma-san across the bar and let him crawl away to safety, we could have asked what he gave me.”

“I didn't think about asking him anything. He deserved to bleed.”

“You rarely think, so I suppose I can't blame you. Just let me call a cab home! I'd much rather pass out in my own bed.”

“Shut the fuck up a minute, flea,” Shizuo growls, pulling his phone out of his pocket and selecting Shinra from his contacts. He holds Izaya by his collar now. “If he says you can go home and die, you can go home and die.” As much as Shizuo would love for Izaya to suffer, Izaya being drugged and left to die isn't something Shizuo can let himself live with.

If anyone is going to kill Izaya, it's going to be Shizuo. Shizuo is the only one who's earned it, and if Izaya doesn't stop kicking him, Izaya is going to die tonight for another reason than drugs.

“Shizuo-kun!” Shinra's voice fills his ear suddenly. “We couldn't find you! You went home, right?”

“No. Listen, Izaya is here—“

“Izaya-kun? Oh... Um, Shizuo-kun, I'm really not someone who hides bodies...”

“Shut up, it's not that! I saw Izaya get drugged, and I need to know if he can go home!”

“Drugged?” Shinra sounds...very unconcerned. Why the hell is Shizuo the only one taking something like this seriously? “Well. Is he conscious?”

“Yes.”

“Vomiting? Is he cognizant? Does his heart seem fine?”

“He's—the same as always. He's drunk, but he's not acting anything other than drunk. Hang on...” Shizuo shakes Izaya a bit. “Is your heart fine?”

“How would I know that?” Izaya asks as he dangles.

“You should be the first to know if it wasn't!” Shizuo hisses. Izaya's collar twists in his hand, and Izaya turns enough to face him, a deadpan expression on his face.

“Clearly it's beating,” Izaya says slowly, like he's talking to an infant. “I can't say whether that's good or bad, since it means I'm alive to suffer in your company.”

“He's as fine as he ever is,” Shizuo says into the phone, trying very hard to restrain the urge to throw Izaya as far as he can and see if Izaya skips like a stone.

“It was probably something to make him lose consciousness. The biggest concern will be making sure he doesn't choke to death on his own vomit, but he should be fine,” Shinra says.

“Okay, then I'll bring him to your place so you can monitor him,” Shizuo says, and he balks as Shinra laughs outright into his ear.

“Oh, no, I don't want him here. Celty and I have plans.” Shinra's tone suggests all kinds of things Shizuo doesn't want to think about.

“Plans can be put on hold!” Shizuo snaps, and he hears Izaya sigh heavily.

“My Celty can never be put on hold! Besides, I'm incredibly drunk myself. I can't monitor anyone properly. You could take him to the hospital, but otherwise, there's nothing else I can do or suggest.”

“You—what?!” Shizuo is left speechless as Shinra hangs up on him, leaving him alone in dealing with Izaya, who Shizuo doesn't even like.

“Well,” Izaya says, “that was certainly a helpful conversation. You have the best ideas, Shizu-chan.”

“What the fuck, he just— Has everyone gone crazy but me?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya laughs.

“Aw, is this the first time Shinra has chosen Celty over you? It's okay, you get used to it,” Izaya says. “Now then, you heard him. I'll be fine! I'm sure you can sleep much easier at night knowing I'm alive and well and plotting your demise.”

“Fuck you, he said you needed monitoring. I'm dropping you off at the hospital.”

“They won't accept me as a patient if I don't want to go,” Izaya says. “Besides, I'm beginning to doubt you saw anything at all. Maybe you just wanted to ruin my date! Pettiness is unflattering.”

Shizuo sees red, shoves Izaya against a wall and sees a flash. He finds himself wrenching a knife out of Izaya's hand before he tosses it to the side and glares into Izaya's stupid smug face.

“Yeah? And look where your date got you! Here, with me, because no one gives a shit about you or whether you die! How's that feel, I-za-ya? How's it feel to know if you didn't wake up tomorrow that no one but me would even notice?”

Izaya's eyes are wide, and if Shizuo didn't know what to look for, he'd honestly think Izaya didn't care. But Izaya looks baffled, and it takes just a few seconds too long for him to reply.

“It doesn't matter,” Izaya says, and Shizuo flattens him further into the wall.

“It matters. You think you can hide behind your stupid words and try to convince yourself you're above being scared, but I'm not buying it. I've never bought anything you've said, and I'm not starting to now. You wanna go home and die alone? Well guess what, even that's more than you deserve.” Shizuo lifts Izaya up again, starts walking towards his own apartment.

“Stop it— Shizu-chan, just put me down, I hate this! I hate you! If you take me inside your monster hovel, I'll destroy everything you own!”

“I don't own much,” Shizuo says. “And I know you hate me. I hate you, too. The best payback I can think of would be making you die in my company.”

Izaya pauses in his thrashing, chokes in a way that makes Shizuo worry he's about to be barfed on, but then Izaya is laughing loudly in a way Shizuo has never heard before. It's not forced or sarcastic or...asshole-ish like Izaya is. It's genuine.

“How cruel!” Izaya cackles. “I didn't think Shizu-chan could be so vindictive! You're right; that's about the worst fate there is!”

Shizuo could argue an even worse fate would be Izaya left in the hands of that Touma creep, unconscious and...

“Hey,” Shizuo says suddenly, unable to contain his curiosity. “That guy, do you think he was gonna kidnap you and kill you?”

Izaya scoffs. “No. He wasn't thinking with anything but his dick. He's been trying to fuck me for a while now, and ordinarily I wouldn't have even entertained him, but his boss is a good client of mine, and I thought Touma-san might be full of useful information. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't. He was boring and touchy.”

Shizuo grits his teeth at the idea. For once, Izaya's using of people isn't what Shizuo is angry about.

“That fucker,” Shizuo hisses. “Taking advantage of anyone like—that. It's lower than low, lower than dirt. I should've killed him.”

“Even if it was me?” Izaya asks. “He'd deserve death even if it was just me he was taking advantage of?”

“Shut up. No one deserves that, not even you.”

Izaya laughs again, but it's so bitter it makes Shizuo wince. “You really are cruel, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo doesn't ask for an elaboration. He doesn't think Izaya would be honest with him anyway, but then again, aren't people always saying drunken words are sober thoughts? What about roofied words? How the hell is Izaya still conscious anyway?

When he opens his door, he's happy to be out of the cold, and even happier to be home. Like this, it's easy to forget about Izaya, who is now draped across his back and...possibly unconscious? Izaya has been silent for an eerie length of time, and somehow Shizuo hasn't been stabbed yet.

He dumps Izaya onto the couch, and Izaya lands in a heap of limbs before immediately sitting upright and looking around, his face absolutely gleeful.

“Shizu-chan! Your place is a lot cleaner than I thought it would be! But then again, I assumed you slept hanging from the ceiling. Maybe you do? Your bedroom is this way, right?” Izaya asks as he rolls to his feet and starts towards Shizuo's room.

“Oi! Sit back down!” Shizuo hisses, yanking Izaya backwards and tossing him onto the couch. “This couch and my bathroom are all you have access to! If I see you anywhere near my room, I'm beating the fuck out of you.”

“Scary!” Izaya crosses his legs and grins up at Shizuo. “So then. Are we having a slumber party?”

“I'm waiting for you to pass out. Oh, also...” Shizuo goes to his fridge, pulls out his leftover food, and doesn't bother heating it up before devouring it. Izaya watches him with obvious fascination, and Shizuo hates the pinpricks he feels at knowing Izaya's keen gaze is on him.

“Do you want some water?” Shizuo asks, feeling like an alien in his own home.

“Well, it would probably help,” Izaya says. “Have you got any alcohol?”

“You don't need alcohol, you shitty fucking louse. You're fucked up enough.”

“I feel sober!” Izaya says, but his flushed face and swaying demeanor beg to differ. “Just the water then. The sooner I sober up, the sooner I can get away from you.”

Shizuo grits his teeth as he pours Izaya a glass of water, and when he stomps over to the couch, he shoves it at Izaya so forcefully that the water sloshes out of the glass and onto Izaya's chest.

“How are you gonna act high and mighty even when I'm doing you a favor? You should be fucking thankful that you aren't in a ditch somewhere!” Shizuo growls as Izaya frowns down at the water on his shirt.

“I never asked for your help,” Izaya says before he looks up and meets Shizuo's gaze. Ordinarily, Shizuo would be creeped out by Izaya's unnaturally red gaze, but as it is, Izaya just looks exhausted and maybe even scared. He's just too proud to let it show.

“Yeah? Well, you better be glad I gave it to you anyway. You could be out there getting—“ Shizuo pauses, huffs, and turns to go back to his food.

“Raped,” Izaya says, because he can never leave well enough alone. “I could be getting raped, is that what you wanted to say?”

“For fuck's sake, Izaya, shut the hell up and pass out already.”

Unsurprisingly, Izaya doesn't. He sips at his water and looks around before he tries to stand. Before Shizuo can even yell at him, Izaya stumbles backwards, misses the couch, and lands sprawled in the floor with the water glass completely emptied on him.

Sighing, Shizuo tosses the empty food box into the trash before he makes his way over to Izaya, who bristles visibly and narrow his eyes up at Shizuo as if daring him to say anything.

“You're a goddamn mess,” Shizuo says because Izaya needs to hear it, or maybe just because Shizuo likes needling him. Either way, Shizuo leans down and picks Izaya up again.

“I thought I wasn't allowed in your room...” Izaya says, his voice slurred and heavy with impending sleep. He's clearly fighting it with all he has, and Shizuo wonders just how many times Izaya has been drugged before.

“I'm chaperoning.” Shizuo shrugs and tosses Izaya on his bed before he tries to find dry clothes for Izaya's small, flea-like body. He has sweatpants with a string, so that'll work. As for shirts, he has plenty of T-shirts he wears on his off days, nothing fancy like Izaya is accustomed to, but if Izaya complains, Shizuo might just punch him.

When he turns to Izaya, he's surprised to see Izaya sitting up, though he looks far from cognizant. He's swaying, catching himself, and trying and failing to focus on Shizuo.

“Can you get undressed?” Shizuo asks him.

“Oooh... Shizu, how naughty...” Izaya says with a giggle, and then he's trying to tug his wet shirt over his head. It gets caught at his elbows, and Izaya rolls off the bed and into the floor with a resounding 'thunk'.

“Fucking flea... Stupid fucking drugged annoying ass flea,” Shizuo mutters to himself as he goes to Izaya and helps him up again. “Alright, lift your arms, you can do that much.” Izaya does, and Shizuo does his best to avert his eyes as he removes Izaya's shirt and helps him into the dry T-shirt.

“Smells good,” Izaya murmurs, and when Shizuo looks at him, Izaya is holding the collar of Shizuo's shirt to his nose and inhaling happily.

“What the fuck?” Shizuo asks, wondering what planet they're on.

“I said...you smell good,” Izaya says a little louder, glaring at Shizuo as if Shizuo has yanked this confession from him without permission.

“Okay? Take your pants off.”

Izaya pouts at him and shakes his head.

“Izaya! Take your—!” Shizuo yanks Izaya's hands away from the shirt collar and tries to make Izaya undo his pants, but Izaya merely stands there looking like he might cry. “What's wrong with you? I'm trying to undress you so you can sleep comfortably!”

“I hate you,” Izaya says with his usual ire, and then, inexplicably, his voice is breaking and he's hiding his face in Shizuo's giant T-shirt. “I hate Shizu-chan so much!”

“Yeah? Well I hate you right back!” Shizuo hisses, and he undoes Izaya's pants before yanking them down. His renewed anger makes it easier to ignore the fact he's undressing Izaya Orihara in his bedroom. “But even if you're fucking horrible and I don't want you here, I'd rather you be here than with some creepy douchebag, so help me out!”

“You should've left me! I'd be fine, I'm always fine!” Izaya is practically sobbing by this point, and Shizuo is helpless to do anything but watch Izaya cry with his pants halfway down his thighs. “You were right to say no one would care, so why should you? I don't want your pity!”

“Too bad,” Shizuo finds himself saying. “If you wanted it, I wouldn't give it to you. I hate people who want pity for the sake of being pitied. But right now...”

“You never do what I want,” Izaya says with a sniffle. This time, when Shizuo pushes Izaya gently towards the bed, Izaya allows it, and Shizuo is able to get the wet pants off and replace them with the sweatpants. Izaya is skinny, so Shizuo has to tie the strings as tightly as they'll go.

“There. Isn't that better?” Shizuo asks. He's always been pretty good with kids, which is exactly what a wasted Izaya is reminding him of. “You'll feel better when you sleep.”

“I'm not tired,” Izaya says, emerging from the shirt at last to show Shizuo his red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks.

“Right,” Shizuo says. “Well, when you are, it'll be better.” He almost laughs when Izaya nods very seriously, as of Shizuo is saying anything other than common sense. Shizuo tries to back away, but he finds one of his hands being held hostage by both of Izaya's. “Flea,” he says warningly, not trusting Izaya to not have a hidden knife on him somewhere.

“Your hand is one big—callus,” Izaya announces. He turns Shizuo's hand over and examines it. “You should moisturize.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Shizuo mumbles, trying again to pull away, but Izaya seems like he might cry again if Shizuo does.

“Isn't it weird...” Izaya says, and then he's just holding Shizuo's hand, looking up at Shizuo with his watery gaze. “You're like a regular person like this. A human.”

“I am a human,” Shizuo snaps, not ready to hear Izaya's usual spiel about Shizuo being an unlovable monster.

Izaya just nods and looks down again at their joined hands. “I love humans,” he says, and then he sniffles again. “But humans don't love me.”

“Izaya,” Shizuo sighs. “You need to sleep. You'll hate that you said all this in the morning.”

“I'll be unhappy either way!” Izaya snaps, and Shizuo wonders where the hell this is going, or if he's ever actually...had a conversation with Izaya before? He doesn't think so, at least not one where they weren't actively trying to antagonize or kill each other. It's weird to be in Izaya's space, to smell his scent, to be able to see his eyelashes. Shizuo wishes he was drunker than he is, and then he remembers to mourn the full beer he left at the bar.

“You can't pretend like you don't know why people hate you. You've given them every reason to.” Shizuo's gaze is hard as Izaya meets his eyes. “You know that.”

“Why is it so wrong to want to see the worst parts of people? Isn't that what love is—to see those parts, the parts they want to keep hidden, and love them anyway? Can you say you love someone if you aren't willing to accept the worst of them?” Izaya asks, his grip tightening on Shizuo. “I love all those things! I love them, and everyone looks at me like I'm a monster! And then, you! You have so much love and you don't even deserve it!” Izaya finally lets Shizuo go, throws his hand away like it's poisoned.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Shizuo asks, genuinely feeling more confused than angry. “Tricking people into revealing what they hate about themselves just to use it against them won't ever get you anywhere. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of genius? How could you think that would work?”

“Nothing works anyway,” Izaya says. “You hated me before I even did anything to you, after all. Wasn't it nice of me to give you actual reasons?”

Shizuo frowns, thinking back to the day Shinra introduced them. Izaya was beside Shinra, clapping at the violence Shizuo exhibited, and Shizuo thought to himself that Izaya was making fun of him, or worse, that he liked violence when Shizuo himself hated it and couldn't escape it. Shizuo admits to himself, and has for a long time, that his hatred of Izaya wasn't justified at first. But in the end, he thinks it was instinctual, and he just knew Izaya was up to no good.

“As if you care what I think,” Shizuo says. He's ready to get out of this room. Izaya can have the bed, he doesn't even care. He's just ready to get Izaya sober and out of here.

“I do care,” Izaya says softly, and Shizuo feels his brow furrowing in disbelief.

“God, how drunk are you?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya grins.

“Very. I'm being honest with you, after all.” He reaches again for Shizuo's hand, and Shizuo debates only for a few moments before letting him have it. What's the harm? Izaya likely won't remember any of this, and keeping him complacent is in Shizuo's best interest if either of them are going to get sleep tonight.

“So you care what I think? And that means you get to try to ruin my life and get me killed all the time?” Shizuo asks as he watches Izaya drunkenly play with his fingers.

“Not all the time,” Izaya says with a pout. “I just like your attention.”

“My attention?”

Izaya laughs, traces one of Shizuo's calluses with smooth fingers. “Wasn't it effective?”

“...Go the fuck to sleep, Izaya.” Shizuo still has a headache, but now he thinks it has less to do with loud noises and the alcohol he consumed earlier and more to do with Izaya being a weirdo. He remembers now why talking to Izaya is impossible. It's all riddles and lies and bullshit. It's much easier to just try to kill him.

“Do you think I'm lying to you?” Izaya asks.

“I know you are.” Shizuo glares as Izaya kicks his legs out, narrowly missing Shizuo.

“I'm not! I just—“ He pauses before a wicked grin spreads across his face, and Shizuo's hackles rise. He keeps his eyes peeled for the glint of a knife. “I never thanked you for saving me, did I?”

“As if you'd be sincere,” Shizuo says.

“I'll give Shizu-chan something! Something he's never had.”

“I don't want—“ Shizuo is suddenly yanked forward by Izaya, who is exhibiting more strength than he should have, but Shizuo has no time to think or say anything before he feels the softness of Izaya's mouth against his own.

It's impossibly gentle. Shizuo has never kissed anyone before, but before his mind can catch up with who he's kissing, he feels Izaya's hands thread through his hair, feels Izaya shift and move closer, and when Shizuo curls his fingers in Izaya's collar to throw him against the wall, he feels himself instead pulling Izaya closer, chasing after the softness of Izaya's lips when Izaya begins to pull back.

“Mm,” Izaya hums, licking his own lips. “How's that for sincerity?”

“Izaya—you...” Shizuo's mind catches up rapidly with what happened, and he feels anger he's never felt before overtake him. “What the fuck!”

“I can't be blamed for it being subpar, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says absently. “Kiss me when I'm sober, I'll make it up to you.” He crawls under the covers, clearly not the least bit worried about Shizuo or his wrath. “I'm sleepy now.”

Shizuo roars with rage, worries about the neighbors, and then gets even angrier. He storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he flops face-first into the couch, screaming into the cushions.

Fucking Izaya. In the morning, Shizuo is going to be as loud as possible, is going to torture a severely hungover flea, and then he's going to make Izaya wish he'd never been born. After that, he's going to beat the fuck out of Shinra for leaving this situation up to him. As it is, he realizes he has to make sure Izaya isn't sleeping on his back, because he needs Izaya to be alive in the morning to torture.

Shizuo slips back inside the room to find Izaya is curled on his side, his face buried in Shizuo's pillow. Shizuo grimaces as he considers sleeping on the floor. After the night he's had, he convinces himself he deserves to sleep in his own bed, and if Izaya has a problem with that, Izaya can fuck right off to Hell where he belongs.

Shizuo maintains as much distance between them as he can as he settles into the bed, but Izaya doesn't move at all and is clearly dead to the world. Shizuo relaxes and comforts himself with thoughts of vengeance in the morning, and is finally able to fall asleep.

The first thing Shizuo notices when he jerks awake is that he doesn't think he's slept much at all. The room is still pitch black aside from the light flooding under the door from the bathroom. The second thing he notices is that Izaya is gone, and there's an awful retching noise coming from the next room. Sighing, Shizuo gets up, and he finds Izaya throwing up violently into the toilet, but thankfully, there isn't vomit anywhere else, so at least Izaya made it this far.

“I hoped...” Izaya rasps, “that it was a dream...and I wasn't really here...”

“Yeah,” Shizuo says. He winces as the vomiting continues. He heads to the kitchen, grabs Izaya another glass of water, and then he picks up his cigarettes and goes back to the bathroom, setting the glass beside Izaya before sitting down on the floor near him and leaning against the wall of the bathroom doorway.

“What are you doing?” Izaya asks weakly. “This is gross enough without you seeing it.”

“Barf doesn't bother me,” Shizuo says as he lights his cigarette. “Kasuka used to get sick a lot. He didn't like being by himself.”

“So you...sat with him while he vomited?” Izaya asks with a weak laugh.

“No, dipshit. I sat with him afterwards, but it's not like you'll be done anytime soon.”

Izaya looks like he wants to argue, but then he's retching once more, and Shizuo shakes his head as he takes a deep drag on his cigarette.

“I guess this is revenge enough for you ruining my night,” Shizuo says. “I might still punch you later, though.”

“That would be fair,” Izaya says softly. He folds his arms over the seat of the toilet, rests his head in them, and adds, “I'm so glad your bathroom is clean.”

“As if you could complain if it wasn't.”

“Oh, I don't know. I'm good at complaining.”

Shizuo snorts and reaches over to pet Izaya's back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Kasuka used to appreciate it. If Izaya minds, he doesn't say so.

“I don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?” Izaya asks after a few silent minutes. Shizuo frowns.

“No. I don't usually have people over.”

“Mouthwash?” Izaya prompts, and Shizuo shifts to look through his cabinet under the sink, putting his cigarette in his mouth to free his hands.

“I have this kind,” Shizuo says before handing Izaya the bottle.

“This is the alcohol free version,” Izaya notes with a clear look of distaste.

“I don't like the burning.”

“The burning is how you know it's working.”

“Use it and shut the hell up!” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya sighs before doing just that. He spits into the tub and then settles back with a groan, using his foot to flush the toilet.

“I should probably get going soon,” Izaya mutters.

“Are you okay now?”

“Well, I'm as sober as I'm going to get tonight. I'm more concerned about the massive hangover I have coming my way. I doubt either of us wants me trapped here all day—“

“Hey,” Shizuo says, almost interrupting Izaya, who glares at him for it. “How often does this happen to you?”

“The drugging? Only once before.” Izaya sips at the water Shizuo got for him.

“Did...anything happen?” Shizuo asks warily.

“I don't know. It was a long time ago.”

Shizuo's expression must speak volumes, because Izaya sighs before continuing.

“I met with a client about locating someone. The story sounded far-fetched to begin with, but he was offering a lot of money, and he seemed so ordinary that I didn't think about anything happening. When he offered me tea, I drank it. And then I woke up in an alleyway outside my apartment building the next day.”

“Flea...”

“I went to the hospital and they said it didn't look like...that had happened. But other things could have.” Izaya sips again at the water. “It doesn't matter. He's dead now, and I'm still alive.”

“So that means you won or something?” Shizuo asks warily.

Izaya shrugs. “Sure. But I wasn't the one who killed him. I didn't even have a hand in it, if you believe that. Turns out he killed someone's daughter, and her father was pretty high up in the Russian mafia. He got what he deserved, in the end. If anything it was my own fault for underestimating him and not looking into him further.”

“Something like that isn't your fault!” Shizuo snaps, and when Izaya grins at him, he feels his anger rising. “It's not, okay, that's victim blaming bullshit, and if he did something to you, it's because he was fucked up and it's not to do with you!”

“But Shizu-chan,” Izaya says playfully, “I thought everything wrong was to do with me.”

“Fuck you,” Shizuo says. “This is different.”

“Unfortunately, things like that happen and will always happen. I'm usually more careful about meeting people, but foolishly I believed Touma-san wouldn't try anything in public. I suppose it could have ended up a lot worse.”

“No shit,” Shizuo says.

“And this time, I didn't wake up all alone, after all.”

Shizuo looks to Izaya, expecting him to have a playful grin or a teasing leer, but as it is, Izaya is gazing down into his water glass thoughtfully.

“I suppose I said...things. I hope you can pretend I never said them,” Izaya says.

“How much do you remember?” Shizuo asks.

“Enough to be embarrassed. I'm sure that's pleasing for you.”

“You kissed me.”

Izaya makes a choking noise that would be comical if he didn't look so mortified. Shizuo knows he isn't imagining the blush spreading across Izaya's cheeks.

“Ah, okay, we can ignore that, if you want. I was drunk.”

“Fuck that,” Shizuo says. “That was my first kiss, asshole. Take responsibility. It wasn't even good.”

Izaya chokes again, with laughter this time, and Shizuo grins back at him stupidly. What a night it's been.

“I'm afraid I can't remedy that right now unless you want to kiss me when I just threw up,” Izaya says, and his smile is so genuine that Shizuo can't look away from it.

“Wouldn't taste much worse than the first time,” Shizuo says, and Izaya laughs again.

“How cruel! Okay, I deserve that. You really are getting in all your jokes now. I thought for sure you'd draw them out a while to torture me more.”

“I will. Pretty sure that was all I had.” Shizuo flicks his cigarette into the sink and runs water over it before standing and offering a hand to Izaya. “C'mon. You can sleep here and leave tomorrow.”

“You want me to be gross here all day?” Izaya asks, looking at Shizuo's hand much like he did the night before, with wonder.

“I'll take my chances.”

Izaya takes Shizuo's hand, and Shizuo leads him back to the bed. Neither of them comments on Shizuo flopping back beside him. Someone has to make sure Izaya doesn't choke to death on vomit still, even now. Shizuo doesn't trust that it's over, and clearly Izaya isn't taking it seriously.

He falls asleep much easier than he did the first time, and he wakes once to find he's tossed an arm over Izaya and nestled behind him. Blearily, he thinks to himself that Izaya's scent isn't bad, especially when it's mixed together with his own. He doesn't move, and he falls back into unconsciousness with the bite of Izaya's scent sharp on his tongue.

When he wakes again, Izaya is gone.

***

“Really, I was impressed, Shizuo-kun! I thought for sure when you called and said you were with Izaya-kun that you would kill him!”

Shizuo is at Shinra's and Celty's place, politely drinking tea while Celty goes off on Shinra for not telling her about what was happening that night. Shizuo knows she'll forgive Shinra. She always does.

“Have you checked on him? Izaya?” Shizuo asks, interrupting them. They both turn to him.

“Not since it happened. Izaya-kun will be fine. He's always fine.”

Something about that statement infuriates him, and when he stands, his teacup hits the floor, shattering as he advances on Shinra.

“What the fuck kind of friend are you?! He was drugged, could have been raped and killed, and you were so focused on having Celty that you didn't give a shit?! That's wrong. It's so fucking wrong! No one is fine after that!”

“Shizuo, please calm down!” Celty's PDA pleads with him, but he barely glances at it.

“I'd punch your face in, but you wouldn't understand why I was doing it,” Shizuo spits at Shinra, shoving him once, but even that's enough to make Shinra topple backwards. “I'm sorry,” he says to Celty. “But he shouldn't think what he did was okay.”

He leaves before they can say anything else to him, also before he can do more damage, and he doesn't even know why he cares so much. Izaya is awful, has ruined so many lives, including Shizuo's. But when he thinks back to all the shitty things, he sees Izaya's crying face as clear as day, feels the depth of that loneliness, because he's felt that way before too, like an outsider looking in no matter what he tries. And sure, it doesn't excuse or forgive anything, but after seeing an actual human side of Izaya, it's impossible to pretend he doesn't care at all.

His feet carry him home, and he's surprised to look up and see Izaya standing outside his door, a paper bag in hand.

“Ah, I hoped you'd still be out,” Izaya says, and he holds the bag up. “Your clothes. I washed them. I thought it was the least I could do.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo says, feeling dumb as he takes the bag. He can't stop staring at Izaya, who looks as he always does, infuriatingly smug and not a hair out of place.

“Right. Well, we can put this behind us now! Next time I see you, I'll fully expect you to be trying to bash my head in.” Izaya smirks at him before trying to walk around him, and Shizuo finds himself grabbing Izaya's coat sleeve.

“Wait. You still haven't accepted responsibility,” Shizuo blurts, and Izaya gazes up at him confusedly.

“About— oh. What would you like me to do? Let you punch me?”

“No, I already almost punched Shinra just now. I think punching is starting to lose its luster.” Shizuo keeps hold of Izaya, tries and fails to think of how to articulate what he wants. He isn't good with words, never has been, but for once in his life, Izaya being so damn perceptive comes in handy.

“I see. So then, would you accept dinner? On me, of course, to make up for my many transgressions.” Izaya's wearing that smile again, the real one, and Shizuo finds himself laughing.

“There isn't enough money in the world to buy enough food that you'd need for that,” Shizuo says, and his grip on Izaya morphs into something less harsh until it's more of a gentle touch on Izaya's arm than anything else.

“It might take a few dinners,” Izaya says, nodding in agreement.

“More than a few.”

“Well then,” Izaya says, turning and reaching behind himself to tug on Shizuo. “Shall we?”

#shizaya #Shizuo Heiwajima #Izaya Orihara #Roofies/date rape drug #this is probably the softest fic i can write of these babes lol #happy bday izaya here's some drugs

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averyrogers83writes · 5 years ago

Text

Undercover Sex

Title: Undercover Sex

Authors: Darlin’ & Vixen

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Sam

Rated: Mature NSFW **18+ Only**

Warnings: poly-relationships, sexual tension, language, fluff, sass, good-natured teasing, smut (anal, m/m and f/m), bondage (light bdsm)

Summary: Series where Bucky and Sam both meet the woman of their dreams, but she’s unable to choose between the two men so they decide she doesn’t have to.

Words: 1783

Squares Filled: Sam & Bucky Bingo: Bondage, MCU Kink Bingo: Bucky Barnes/Sam Willson Marvel Polyship Bingo: Red @averyrogers83 and Overstimulation @shield-agent78, Star-Spangled Bingo #SSB2020: Anal @avergyrogers83writes, Sam Wison @buckybarnesbingo @shield-agent78, Avengers Bingo: Free Space @shield-agent78, Soulmates @averyrogers83

Prompts: @coffee-with-bucky #lyn2k Writing Challenge: “Don’t act all innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago.” @shield-agent78

Author Notes: Series can be read individually or in order of the series. Two writers who get into too much trouble when they get together to write.

@caramell0w @loricameback @hotoffthepressfics @buckysforeverprincess @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @captain-rogers-beard @chuuulip

“Agent Banes are you with me?” Bucky’s head snaps up as he glares at Fury. How in the hell did he and Sam get talked into going undercover to find a weapons smuggler? Fury eyes Barnes and Wilson with his one good eye. “Did you hear what I just told you?” He snaps. “Get y/n and find out where they are smuggling the weapons from.” Sam stands up and gives Bucky a glare.

“Not a problem, Sir. You can count on us.” Sam states with authority.

“Good. Dismissed.”

Bucky watches as Fury leaves the conference room and then turns towards Sam placing his hands firmly onto the table. It groans with the weight of his arms as he pushes up out of his seat. “Why did you volunteer us for that mission?”

“Look, you and I both know these weapons are dangerous and in the wrong hands can cause a lot of damage.” Sam tries to reason with the super-soldier.

Bucky internally groans. He knows Sam is right, however, he is not giving in that easy. “Just like Steve, taking stupid risks you don’t have to,” he grumbles as he pushes around Sam and then out the door heading down the hallway to find y/n.

“I am not like Steve. Besides he passed the shield to me, knowing that I would always try to do the right thing.” Sam shakes his head, not backing down from the mission, and knows that Bucky will realize that he’s right.

Bucky storms off towards their room and throws open the door with a muffled bam. You look up from your place on the sofa and place your book face down on the coffee table. Your light yellow sundress cascades over your legs onto the sofa as you stare up at Bucky. His mouth set in a firm hard line. “Ok...so I take it the mission brief did not go well.”

Sam trailed behind Bucky back to their shared room. Bucky was upset about something and it wasn’t about the mission. Sam knew it was his birthday and the last thing the old guy wanted to do was go out on a mission trying to find some weapons dealer.

“Would one of you all tell me what is going on?” You glance between your two lovers with a questioning expression. Bucky leans against the kitchen island and folds his massive arms over his chest.

“Bucky’s pissed off at me for volunteering us for a mission.” He eyes Bucky “And tomorrow is his birthday and will miss all the festivities of him turning 35 again.” A teasing smirk forms on Sam’s lips.

“Try adding some numbers to that,” Bucky grumbles.

“Aw, and you don’t look a day over 29.” Y/N chuckles. Bucky lets out an aggravated breath blowing his chestnut hair out of his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh at your two soulmates. Since you first met them they have been at each other’s throat one minute and in each other’s arms the next. Many times you sandwiched in between. You have to admit the latter was much more appealing, but it’s never a dull moment with the dynamic duo.

“Let me guess, you got to cut your hair again to fit the part of a…” you eye him and try to guess the mission at hand. “Ugh...cowboy?” Sam bursts into laughter. You give Sam a warning glare and walk towards Bucky wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up into his sapphire eyes“No? Ok, handsome, what is the gig?”

“He’s going to pose as an owner if a….SEX...SHOP!” Sam can’t hold back the laughter any longer. Maybe he could make it up to Bucky by buying some sex toys while they are staking out the shop waiting for the dealer to show up.

You bite your lip as you try to hold back your laughter. “Babe, I think that’s a great job.”

“You think it's a great job? Really y/n?” His sarcastic tone is not easy to miss. You nod in response.

“Think you will be perfect for it. Besides, you like the idea of overstimulation.”

“Also like it when you don’t say red when Sam and I are getting you off.” He runs his hands up and down your back to your ass before giving it a small swat. “You know it’s not nice to tease an old man. Especially on his birthday.”

“Who said I was teasing. Sam and I already have plans on how we are going to celebrate your special day. Guess it will just have to wait till you two get back from your mission.” You pouted at the thought of both of them being gone for this mission and neither one of you knew when they would be back.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re coming with us Baby Girl,” Sam says from behind you as he places his hands lightly onto your shoulders, turning you around.

“What?!” You looked at Sam with a confused look on your face. “What do you mean I’m coming with you? Why?”

“You and I are posing as a couple buying sex toys for our honeymoon.” His brown eyes dance with mischief as you take in a breath. You place your palms upon his tight black t-shirt to steady yourself

“We..we are what?” You stammer as thoughts run through your head a million miles an hour.

“Don’t worry baby girl it’s just a cover for a little while. Just until we can catch this guy.” Sam chuckled, the look on your face was priceless and he wished he had taken a picture. Bucky lets out a hardy chuckle from behind you as your face turns from its normal pink to a red flush.

“You don’t like that idea, Sweetheart?” The super soldier teases with a playful smirk. He knows if you saw him you would want to knock it right off of his face. “Guess, Sammy and you better give me that present now than because we leave first thing in the morning.” You shrug and walk into the shared bedroom followed by your two lovers.

Sam got a smirk on his face and left the room and quickly returned with a red silk scarf and some lube and tossed them on the bed. Between Y/N and Sam they remove every stitch of clothing leaving him naked. Y/N gently pushes Bucky onto the bed and ties him to the bed posts.

“You know I can break these right?” Y/N straddles his waist. Her fingertips lightly stroke down his chiseled chest feeling every ripped muscle.

“Yeah maybe, but you’re really into the whole bondage thing so you won’t.”

“Happy Birthday, Sarge,” you smile down at him while grinding your hips onto his hardening erection.

Sam quickly joins you and begins nipping at Bucky’s neck causing him to let out a low moan. Bucky pulls at the restraints.

“Tisk..tisk if you break them you will get punished.”

“Maybe I want to be punished by you two,” he says in a husky voice that sends delightful shivers down your spine. You scrunch up your nose and shake your head no while grinding your hips into him causing the wetness between your legs increase.

You trail kisses down Bucky’s chest as you move your body down and begin kissing his inner thighs, you can feel him straining against the restraints as you take his hard cock slowly in your mouth.

Sam continued sucking on his neck, leaving little bruise marks behind, eliciting moans from Bucky’s lips as he made a trail down to his collarbone. He reaches over and unties his lover's arms as you give Sam a knowing wink. Quickly Bucky’s hands grip your hips and roll you over onto your back with a small growl.

“If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times it’s not nice to tease me Baby Girl.” You just shrug as a small giggle leaves your plump lips.

“Sorry, Sarge,” you sass with a small wink. Sam chuckles as he reaches for the lube and squeezes out a generous amount in his hand and begins stroking his own hard cock, making sure it was good and slick while his free hand slaps Bucky’s ass and Bucky flinches in surprise.

“Get that fine ass up for me babe,” his free hand holds onto Bucky’s muscular hips. Sam gently presses the tip of his hard cock against Bucky’s tight ass, slowly pushing inside before stopping just long enough for Bucky to adjust to him.

Y/N runs her hand over Bucky’s taut chest before reaching his erect cock. You stroke it while you reach up and run your tongue over his lips begging for entrance. Bucky lets out a small moan at the feel of Sam’s cock as your tongues dance together. He then slides effortlessly into your dripping folds as a moan escapes you.

Sam slowly pushes deeper inch by inch till he’s fully seated inside of Bucky

You still for a moment as your heart begins to race. Soon they are pumping in rhythm with each other as moans escape their lips till they are thrusting at an animalistic pace.

The room smells like a mix of Sam’s cologne and sex. Bucky takes his right hand and rubs the nipple of your breast with his thumb and fourth finger making it firm. “James,” you whine when he removes his hand and holds onto the headboard as Sam continues his furious pace.

Bucky gives you a teasing smirk. “Told you not to tease me baby girl,” he pants out breathlessly.

“Don’t act all innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago,” you barter as you hook your legs on the each side of his hips. You gently tap Sam and Bucky with the soul of your foot letting them know you are close.

Sam can feel himself getting close to exploding as he feels Bucky’s walls clench around him. “Fuck, I’m so close” Sam growls in Bucky’s ear. Your screams push each man over the edge until they are spilling their hot seed.

You rest your head on the soft pillow as you regulate your breath. Sam rests on his back beside you; his arm thrown over his forehead. Bucky rolls off of you and gives you a lopsided grin as he rests his muscular back on the headboard.

“What are you grinning about Sarge?” Your lips form into a teasing pout as you eye him inquisitively.

“Just nice to know I can still get it up in my old age.” He retorts as Sam snickers.

“I had no doubt you could.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sam wilson #sam x reader #marvel polyship bingo #sambucky bingo #mcukinkbingo #star-spangled-bingo2020 #buckybarnesbingo #avengersbingo

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kingofdirtandnothing · 4 years ago

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@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Sixteen

Jacob is lounging on the back patio, bare feet over the edge of a generic plastic lawn chair. His jogging pants sit low on his hips, just a hint of stomach visible where his sun faded t-shirt has ridden up, a football team’s logo long lost to the hands of time and the washing machine. The breeze moves softly through his grey hair, and the skin around his closed eyes is well worn with laugh lines.

He’s so beautiful that Din doesn’t know what to do with himself, most of the time.

It seems like a lifetime ago that they were working the same case for different organizations. (Din never liked working with the local cops. They didn’t like having the feds around.) Hard to believe it was only two years ago.

And half a world away. Monte Carlo was a far cry from those long flights from North Carolina to Arizona, just to spend a little time with a man who stole his heart in one fell swoop. Gone were the badges and the long travel times and the sick, twisted men who used to put away.

Now life was a small house with a tiny backyard, a retired husband and a kid that was just learning to walk. And if the kid had his way, Din would be just as grey haired as Jacob by the time the baby gates came down.

Because the kid was utterly, and completely single minded when it came to food. If Din had known what the switch from formula and bottles to baby food would entail, maybe he would have waited a little longer. Because now he had a kid who had gotten his head stuck in the slats of the baby gate twice now, tried to climb it at least once (that he saw) and who would shove any unsupervised food into his mouth the second a head would turn away from him.

No one ever told Din that parenting meant baby oil-ing up a little fat head while it wailed to get it unstuck from between two wooden poles in a baby gate. But then again, no one told him that he would hold a baby in his arms and love it so much that his lifelong ambitions would fall to the wayside to keep him safe.

Or that he’d meet a drawling, playful marshal in the middle of the desert in Arizona and feel his heart come to life, like the Grinch’s. Jacob Vanth made his heart grow three sizes that day, and Din wasn’t afraid to admit it. (Mostly because it would make Jacob laugh if he did. He had a great laugh.)

But life had a funny way of changing when you least expected it, and there’s nothing in the world that would make Din give up this life he had for himself now.

“You’re home early.” Jacob doesn’t open his eyes as he speaks, fingers brushing in idle sweeps against the metal bar at the top of the lounge chair. It’s distracting enough that Din doesn’t think to answer for another few seconds.

“Work was easy today.” Part of giving up the life they left behind was giving up the job. Din couldn’t exactly be a member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation of the United States if he was living overseas. So his clearance was signed away, his severance pitched into the same account as Jacob’s retirement to buy the house here, and then he started looking for work.

Private security consulting was laughably easy. Din didn’t even have to deal with the customers beyond the initial consultation. He was the guy went in, who scoped out the house and the routine and suggested to the company how best to keep the client safe.

It was for the best that way, because Din had no patience for rich men with bloated egos who thought they were above the law because they had money. Hell, he had spent the majority of his career working to put those very men away. If this job meant working under the thumb of an elitist asshole, then Din would have found another job.

But his boss was a good man, a no nonsense kind of man who saw that Din’s use was best in offering information for each of their new jobs. He would lay the groundwork, and then whoever took over to keep the client safe could tailor those recommendations to best serve the client, and the business.

“Let me guess…” Jacob cracks an eye open finally, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Din wanted to kiss it. “You went to some feller’s house, you told him that he had too many windows and not enough cameras, and then he paid your boss an obscene amount for someone to stand around and make him feel safe.”

That was eerily close to the truth, actually. But as Din was learning, if you’d met one 1%-er, you’d met them all. He takes a step out onto the patio, toeing off his freshly shined loafers. Din leans a shoulder against the open sliding door, leg crossed at the knee so that he could pull off his socks, one by one.

The suit he was wearing was tailored, the most obscenely expensive thing that Din owned. He’d learned early in his career that sometimes, the suit was the only armor that a man had when he was out in the field. You had to be able to cut an intimidating figure to those you were questioning, while still radiating comfort and safety to those you were promising to protect, or to avenge their family members.

Next comes his suit coat. Din folds it neatly across the back of the lounge chair opposite Jacob’s. Cuffs are undone, and folded up and over his elbows, one crisp turn at a time. Only then does Din perch himself on the place that Jacob made for him on the side of his lounge chair.

Din was still learning this part. Leaving the job at the door. Before Jacob and the kid, he’d never had any sort of life. He had always marched on with blinders on, no thought in his head but the path to the job. Even in college, he’d abstained from the parties and the drinking and the casual sex. All that mattered was the job.

Now, the job was what mattered least. Now, the job was a means to an end. A way to add to the coffers and help keep their kid in pull ups. And to keep Jacob Vanth in all the threadbare t-shirts his heart desired. (How someone could make something so sloppy look so good was beyond Din. But Jacob did it, and did it well.)

The job was no longer the first thing he thought of in the morning, or the last thing he thought of before bed. Now those thoughts were reserved for what he was going to make their bottomless pit of a kid for breakfast, before work. And the night time thoughts, well...those weren’t the kinds of things a man brought up in polite conversation.

“Something like that.” Din was grateful for the fact that Jacob never seemed to run out of words. Din had never been the most talkative person. His colleagues used to tell him that it was like working with a robot. And then they’d laugh when he took it personal. Robots were creepy and weird. Din was just quiet. There was a big difference there. He felt, and he felt a lot.

Like right now? There was so much love in his chest that Din felt fit to bursting, like an overfull water balloon, aching at the seams with just how much love was inside of him. Din reaches between them, fingers walking along the strips of soft plastic that made up the majority of the lounge chair, until he could brush his pinkie against Jacob’s.

The touch is gentle, skin rasping against sun warmed skin. Jacob had calluses in all the right places, and Din greatly appreciated them when the lights were off and the door was closed. (He was working up to lights on, but it was a long way from Jehovah’s Witness to openly gay man in Monte Carlo. Some steps took longer than others.)

But more than that, the touch is still as electric as that first stolen touch was. Standing next to an old vending machine outside of a squat motel in the Sonaron desert, the case a long forgotten dream in the back of his head. Jacob Vanth had seen through him with extreme prejudice and peeled away the layers with just his eyes.

Din was lost the second Marshal Vanth smiled at him, and there was no turning back.

“How’s the kid?” It was surprisingly quiet in his walk through the house to get to the back porch. There were a pile of plastic frog toys spilling out of a bin in the living room, but the rest of the place was clean. Even the kid’s high chair, which looked like a disaster zone, most hours out of the day.

“Sleepin’. He fought that nap today, boy.” Jacob lets out a low whistle, shaking his head solemnly. His wrist brushes against Din’s knee as he reaches down beside the lounge chair to grab the baby monitor there. A blinking green light on the front guaranteed that it was on. And if Din stayed still enough, he could hear the soft, snuffling breaths on the other end of the line.

“He’s stubborn.” Din agrees quietly. The kid was a survivor, all the way from birth. (Sometimes, Din still had nightmares about finding him in that dumpster, out in the heat. What if he hadn’t stopped to take a breath. What if he hadn’t listened and heard that soft, mewling cry?)

But you’d never know he was a preemie now by looking at him. The kid was walking now, a great trundling waddle, arms always outstretched. And when he caught sight of Din or Cobb after a break of not seeing them, he’d take off as fast as his little fat (Michelin man, that’s what Jacob called them) legs would carry him. It was enough to make Din feel like he was the most important person in the world.

“Like his daddy.” Jacob agrees, using the hook on the back of the baby monitor to hang it off of the edge of the lounge chair again. “But he just went down, maybe ten minutes ago.” Jacob spares only a second to look at his watch before he’s turning those bedroom eyes on Din. He was in trouble. “Which means we got a little time to ourselves.”

As always, fear comes first. A lifetime of being told he was wrong, that he was abhorrent, Din still fears even the gentlest of touches in “public”. Even if public was in the sunshine in their own back yard. But fast on its heels was determination. He wasn’t going to be defined by an outdated rhetoric. Not anymore. Not when his life was so good.

So Din makes a conscious effort to reach between them, to grab Jacob’s callused hand and laces their fingers together in some kind of internal defiance. (He couldn’t truly believe that this was wrong. How could something so pure be wrong? There had to be a mistake in how it was written down. That’s what Din had to keep telling himself. It was some kind of cosmic typo. God couldn’t really hate love like this.)

It earns him a slow as honey smile from Jacob, and that’s worth any amount of fear.

“It looks like we do.” And Din knows exactly what he wants to do with that time. But there was nothing wrong with playing a little hard to get, especially if it got Jacob levering himself up into a sitting positon, and right into Din’s personal space.

“We should spend it wisely.”

#ch: din #polyfacetious | cobb #v: expats row #queued #carlota's christmas drabbles

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cheer-bear-go-vroom · 5 years ago

Text

First Love: Meeting the Jedi

A/N: so I think I'm just going to post these in whatever order they come to me. But I thought a semi-origin story would be nice.

Summary: Xena is a successful Podracer with some shady friends. A pull that she either can’t or won’t explain draws her to help two troubled Jedi. Something about them draws her closer than she ever wanted to be.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, some death, like one mention of slavery?

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Xena was walking through Canto Bight, having just collected her payout from the last podrace, when she heard the commotion. People yelling, and what sounded like blaster shots. While this was nothing new for the gambling city, it did strike Xena as weird. She felt something, almost familiar to her. Curiously she headed towards the comotion, only wanting to take a look. However what she found wasn’t what she expected. Two men in plain robes were running from what looked to be gangsters. Xena, feeling a pull in their direction locked eyes with the older of the two. His stare distracted him from the chase at hand. Unknowingly Xena moved towards the two coming into a protective stance before them.

“What’s going on here?” She shouted causing the gangsters to stop in their tracks.

“These Jedi scum stole our property!” The supposed leader hissed.

Xena looked back at the two men, or Jedi, and noticed them gawking in confusion.

“What’d they take?” She asked.

“None of your concern Vale.” The leader hissed again.

Xena took a pouch from her side pocket and tossed it to him.

“Here, consider it even. They’re clearly lost if Jedi are on Cantonica.” She informed.

“The boss won’t be happy with us coming back empty handed.” He hissed.

“Well you tell your boss that these two are under my protection now.” Xena hissed back.

“Fine. Consider yourselves lucky, Jedi.” The gangster growled, accepting Xena’s demand.

“Come on. With me, now.” Xena muttered, ushering the Jedi along.

“Who are you?” The younger one asked, once they were out of danger.

“Doesn't matter. You two need to leave the planet before they come back. I only have so much leeway here.” Xena replied, still checking over her shoulder for the gangsters.

“I’m afraid that's not entirely possible at the moment. It seems they still have our ship.” The older one finally spoke.

“Not my problem. Buy a new one or get a charter. You’re lucky I even decided to save your asses. If the Pykes didn’t like me so much we’d all be dead.” She kept her voice down.

“Do you know of anywhere we could contact our fleet to come get us?” The older one asked her.

“You can’t bring a fleet of Clones here. You’d just make it worse and lose more lives than necessary. Just follow me, I’ll let you use my comms. They’ll have to send a small ship if you want to get out of here alive.” Xena replied, reluctantly.

She led them to her building a few streets down from where they were. She ushered them inside and into the elevator, taking them to the upper floors.

“Hoods up Jedi, my neighbors don't take too kindly to Republic officials here.” She informed.

The Jedi complied, pulling their hoods up to cover their faces. She still felt some weird sense of familiarity and somehow knew they did too. Whatever it was set Xena on edge as they reached her floor.

“Heads down and stay quiet. I do the talking.” Another order that the younger one scoffed at.

Lucky for them nobody was in the hall at the time. A short walk later and they reached Xena’s apartment. She unlocked the door and ushered them in before going in herself, locking the door behind her. The two Jedi looked around the semi-luxurious apartment, taking note of the many trophies that were around the room, and the fully stocked bar in the kitchen area. The room screamed podracing. Flags and banners from various locations were displayed on the walls of the living room. To their left was another door, probably to the bedroom and the refresher.

Xena quickly went to the bar and poured herself a drink, ignoring the looks from the cloaked men.

“You’re a podracer?” The younger one asked.

“Great observation. Comms are over here. Feel free to let them know you’re alive.” She motioned to a table with an intricate long range system set up on it.

“Thank you, Miss..” The older Jedi trailed, never getting her name.

“Ask me later. Now why are Jedi on Cantonica? We aren’t involved in the war.” She asked taking a seat on the kitchen counter.

“Jedi business.” The younger snapped, earning a look from the older.

“Forgive my padawan. But we received intel that one of the gangs here had information on a Sepratist war criminal that we’ve been searching for.” The older stated, slightly hoping for some insight.

“Ha! Good luck finding him. Most everyone here is a criminal.” Xena replied with an amused tone.

“Even you?” The younger asked.

“Not that it’s your business, but yes, even me. Podracing pays well, but it also brings trouble.” Xena seemed much more interested in her drink now.

The conversation ended there and the younger Jedi began setting up the comm link. He began sending some kind of coded message. Xena sipped on her drink not paying any mind to the men when she started to get a feeling. A feeling of unease and danger. She stood up and looked to the door, focusing.

“Quick, get in the bedroom and stay quiet. Whatever happens, don't come out until I tell you.” She hissed.

The two Jedi shared a look, but listened nonetheless. Xena grabbed a blaster from under the kitchen counter and slid it into the back of her pants as someone began pounding on the door.

“I’m coming!” She shouted, before opening it to reveal Sim, one of the Pyke leaders on Cantonica and two of his guards.

“Sim! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Xena asked nonchalantly.

“It seems, my dear Xena, that you’ve come between me and something I want. I’d like them and my information back.” His voice was cool, even.

“Oh the two Jedi? Look I sent them on their way. I pointed them in the direction of the shipyard so they could get back. Haven’t seen them since.” She lied easily leaning against the door, hands moving behind her back.

“Oh Xena, you know better than to lie to me. Now hand them over and I might forget this little indiscretion.” His tone was calm but Xena could sense the threat in his words.

“Look, Sim, honestly I haven’t seen them since I dropped them. Do you really think I would help Jedi?” She tried to keep up the charade but it was like he could see through her.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you Xena, especially not with the race coming so soon. But if you don’t hand them over, I’ll just have to find a new racer for the Pykes. You’re not as irreplaceable as you like to believe.” His threat was obvious, she knew what he meant.

“What makes you think I brought them here anyways?” She asked.

“One of our dear friends saw you with two cloaked figures heading in here. Now hand them over darling before I get upset.” He replied.

“Who said that? Was it Bjorn? You know he’s not right in the head. Sees things all the time.” She slowly lifted her shirt, so as to go unnoticed when reaching for her blaster.

“Xena, I’m losing my patience.” He growled.

“Alright fine, you can have them. When I’m dead.” She growled back, firing three precise shots at the Pykes.

As soon as they dropped the Jedi rushed out of the bedroom and looked at her with panic.

“We need to go. I’m as good as dead now. I hope you got your transmission out in time.” She spoke with an eerily calm voice, not even phased by the dead bodies in her doorway.

She shouldered past the two and into her room to grab a small box and a backpack before heading to the door, looking at the jedi quizzically.

“We can either leave and live, or you can stay and die. Now let’s go.” She hissed this time, expressing the urgency.

The two followed her a different way through the building, opting to take the stairs this time in order to slip out the back. Xena moved through the streets with purpose, only looking back to see if the Jedi were still with her. Once at a warehouse she opened the door and ushered them in.

“Did they receive your transmission?” She asked, turning lights on to reveal a slightly beat up Corellian YT-1300 freighter.

“I don’t think so. You cut me off too soon.” The younger Jedi informed.

“Alright, here’s the deal. I’ll take you to your ship and leave you with your fleet. After that I’m gone.” She offered.

“Why are you helping us?” The older Jedi asked.

“I don’t know.” She lied.

The three boarded the freighter and Xena took a deep breath as she started the ship up. The roof of the warehouse opened up and she easily lifted off, getting out of the hanger.

“Alright, there's a comms system in the main hold. Use that to contact your fleet.” She spoke to the Jedi.

The older one left to assumably contact his fleet and the younger one stayed in the cockpit.

“What did the Pyke mean, when he said he’d find someone else?” The young Jedi asked.

“As far as anyones concerned, I belong, well until just a few minutes ago, to the Pykes.” She sighed, realizing the weight of her actions.

“Like a slave?” He asked.

“I am not a slave.” She hissed.

“Explain it to me.” He told her.

“They found me on the streets of Malastare as a child. I started racing for them until I proved myself a good pilot. Then I was shipping refined spice for them. Once I was old enough to race on Cantonnica they brought me there to race for them. I was valuable to the Pykes, and we had a deal. I race how they want me to and I keep my race winnings while they keep whatever they win from the bets they made. They pretty much left me alone as long as I did what they asked.” She explained.

One of the alarms sounded and Xena took action.

“Get down to the guns, I’ll get us out of here.” She yelled as the ship started taking fire.

Xena pulled out all the stops, doing her best to out maneuver them while the Jedi shot the Pyke ships down. Two of them locked onto her ship and disabbled the rear deflector shields.

“Kriff! Hold on to something!” She shouted through the headset.

Xena swiftly looped up and flew the ship upside down, ignoring all of the clanging cargo and yelled for the Jedi to shoot them down. Once the two ships were taken care of she turned the freighter topside and took off for open space.

“That was some impressive flying.” The younger Jedi commented, once back in the cockpit.

“Nice shooting. Now punch in the coordinates so I know where we’re going.” She replied.

“Are you ever going to tell us your name?” The older Jedi asked.

“Seems like you’ve earned that much. The name’s Xena Vale. And you are?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my former padawan, Anakin Skywalker.” The older Jedi, Obi-Wan introduced.

“Pleasure.” Xena hummed.

“So why did you lie?” Anakin asked.

“I lie about a lot of things, you need to be more specific.” Xena replied.

“About why you helped us.” He prodded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She denied.

“Well it seems like you were planning on leaving anyways. With that pre-packed bag you had.” His tone wasn’t meant to be accusatory but they came off as so.

“Listen here Jedi, I didn’t plan on helping you. I’m not sure why I did it. As for the bag, I’ve found it's always better to be prepared for the worst.” She seethed, clearly irritated with all the questioning.

“Okay fine, but at least tell me how you knew the Pykes were at your door.” He asked.

“Call it a pilot's intuition. Now enough with the questions or I’ll drop you into open space.” Her words seemed final.

“No matter what your reasoning is, thank you. For your help.” Obi-Wan commented.

“Don’t expect anymore. Once I drop you at your ship, I’m gone.” She replied.

“I have a feeling that won’t be true.” Obi-Wan thought to himself.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #captain rex #ahsoka tano #sw:tcw #sw: the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars oc #star wars #captain rex x reader

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