thumpersbestie

[thumpersbestie]

Channie’s Room

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 343

warnings: my man is whipped

genre: fluff

a/n: another drabble cause it’s sunday in korea and i miss my channie 🥺

Chan’s pov.

“hello everyone. welcome to this week’s Channie’s room!” i smile at my phone as i notice the count of viewers go up every second.

the comments on my laptop are flooding in, thousands asking me to say hey, their names and strands of questionable emojis too.

i’m off today and had nothing better to do, so i decided to do a Channie’s room even though it’s not sunday.

“ask me some questions and i’ll try to answer as many as possible.”

Y/n walks into the room with a bowl of fruit and plops herself on the couch across from me. i look up at her and smile.

‘live?’ she mouths and i nod, turning my attention back to the screen.

“let’s see…” i try to catch one of the questions.

“what’s your favourite colour? pink and blue.”

“favourite movie? all marvel ones.” i laugh.

“how tall are you? i’m an average 1.71 cm.” i continue answering the questions, taking in the adoration of stays and what they want to know.

some questions catch me off guard.

“where’s your girlfriend? how’s your girlfriend?” i read aloud and Y/n looks up at me, almost choking on a piece of fruit.

we haven’t made our relationship official online yet. we’ve gotten coffee out in public before, but nothing more than just that. we love the private life and want to keep it that way.

but that time’s up i guess. i turn to my phone and shrug. “let me ask her.” i look at Y/n.

“how are you doing, baby?” i ask in english.

her mouth drops open, unsure of whether she should speak or not. she gives an awkward thumbs up, making me laugh.

‘he’s blushing.’ ‘aw, he looks so cute.’ ‘he’s so in love with her. i can just tell.’ i read in my mind.

laughing of low key embarrassment, i smile, looking back at Y/n.

“i am definitely in love.”

~

[thumpersbestie]

high enough

Han Jisung Imagine/One Shot

NSFW!!! SMUT!! 18++

2.6k words

"Wanna smoke?" Han's voice speaks up from the other side of the couch. His touch pauses on your calf and you look over from the movie.

"I'm down. But I'm not rolling," You smile and he rolls his eyes before pushing your legs off his lap and disappearing into his room. He returns a few minutes later with some papers, a lighter, and a jar.

You sit up on the couch, putting your feet on the floor and he makes his way over, settling between your legs on the floor and placing everything on the coffee table in front of him. Your fingers immediately make their way into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, one of your favorite pastimes since he has been growing his hair out.

"You're gonna make me hard," he grumbles and you chuckle, pushing his shoulder. Always a horndog.

"You say that every time I touch you," you complain and he shrugs, a chuckle falling from his lips. Your hands make their way down to his neck, rubbing some tense spots to try to ease out the knots.

"Maybe you make me hard every time you touch me," he defends, pouting in his tone and you can't help but lean forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. His head falls back and you lean down, pressing another one to his puckered lips.

You and Jisun had started fucking a few months ago after being friends for nearly a year. You two haven't had the ‘date talk’ or anything yet but you both know that you only have sex with each other.

"Even before we turned into this?" you question, motioning between the two of you. He sits back up to focus on rolling again as he responds.

"Mhm. You're just so pretty. How could I not?" he replies nonchalantly, making a blush creep up you neck as you fight the smile from your lips. He says it so matter-of-factly and it makes you warm up inside. He makes it seem like it was inevitable to happen eventually.

"You're prettier," You reply quietly and he chuckles again. He knows you are no good at taking compliments but still insists on complimenting you constantly. He stands and you follow him, wrapping a throw blanket around your shoulders as the pair of you step out onto the balcony.

The cool air hits you and the faintest scent of weed. This is the spot that everyone always smoke at so it always has that underlying scent of weed. It's only early summer so the nights are still cold but the cool air feels nice the higher you get, cooling the flush that raises to my skin. This is your favorite place to come smoke at, especially when the weather is like this.

Jisung sits down on one of the padded chairs and pats his lap, waiting for you to join him in the chair. You giggle as you tilt your head him.

"It's your job to keep me warm since you have the blanket," He smiles up at you as you approach him, sitting down onto his lap. You chuckle and playfully roll your eyes before placing on of your arms around his neck. His arm wraps around your waist, joint in one of his hands and the lighter in the other. Once it lights, he brings it to your mouth, he always lets you take the first hit…because he is a gentleman.

You take a deep inhale, letting the burn fill your lungs before exhaling into the night air. You relax a little more into Jisung and his hand immediately finds your hip, rubbing gently as he takes a hit from the joint.

You grab his phone from the side table and press shuffle on one of your favorite playlists he has. The same playlist that you obnoxiously forced him to share with you months ago and it's all you listen to now.

"Thanks for always updating this playlist," You chuckle as he holds the joint up to your lips and you take a hit.

"Of course. It kind of changed from my personal playlist to one for both of us," he replies and you exhale, a smile making it's way to your face.

You two continue to pass the joint back and forth until it's nothing but a cherry and place it in the ashtray. Jisung leans back in the chair, pulling your legs up so you’re sitting practically on top of him.

"I don't think I can get any closer to you, Ji," You tease, a giggle escaping your lips. He smiles in return before biting down on his lip.

"God, I love your laugh," his voice is quiet but before you can reply, he leans in and presses his lips to your’s in a quick peck, "And these lips. Damn, you drive me insane, baby," he leans in again, pressing a kiss to the pulse point on your neck.

The weed already had your heart pounding but the addition of Jisung's words and touches, you felt like it could jump out of your chest at any moment. Your stomach does a flip as the nickname meets your ears. He's always called you baby, even when were purely platonic but lately it's been hitting a little different.

His lips continue to explore a few spots on your neck as his hand lightly drags up and down your outer thigh, making you keen into his touch. You feel like your body is on fire right now and his touch is adding so much more heat, despite the cool, night air.

"Hannie..." your voice comes out much more breathless than intended. It was supposed to be more of a scold. His gentle kisses had, at some point, turned into sucking and biting.

"Hmm?" he questions, innocently, his lips still working on your neck. You can't stop the moan from leaving you when he grips your upper thigh, right on your groin, his thumb brushing over your panty line.

"You're driving me crazy," you whimper and his hand meets your jaw, turning your head to face him. Your tongues are meeting in an instant, no sense of patience between either of you. Your arms wrap around his neck as you begin to scratch at his scalp gently.

A moan leaves his lips in response and you quickly swallow it with your own lips. Jisung's hips buck up into the back of your thighs and you can feel how hard he has gotten. Despite the cotton mouth, you can only think of one thing that you want to do right now.

You strategically slide off of his lap and sink onto your knees between his legs. You grab the blanket before tossing it over his lap, you included, covering yourself from the outside world and the cold.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hardened cock through his pants. You can hear the sharp intake of breath and imagine him throwing his head back like he always does, making you impossibly wetter.

Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants and boxers and he lifts his hips, letting you slide his pants down to just above his knees. Without warning, you lean forward and press a kiss to his leaking tip.

"Shit, baby. D-don't tease me too much. I'll be really embarrassed if I cum this quick," he complains and you chuckle, warm breath fanning over his pretty cock before you open your mouth and sink down onto him, your hand gripping what can't fit into your mouth.

His thighs tense under your arms and a quiet curse leaves his lips at the same time. You relax your throat, taking him deeper and pulling back up again. Despite feeling like you have cotton mouth, you’re able to build up enough saliva to lubricate your hand as you slowly stroke him in time with your mouth.

"Fuck. You've got the best mouth. Feels almost as good as your sweet cunt around me," His words send chills throughout your body, making you moan around him.

"Fuck, baby. I'm gonna cum. You want that? You want my cum down your throat?" His words are gruff as he begins to lightly thrust up into your mouth. Suddenly, you’re exposed to the night air again, the blanket in his hand. You look up at him, eyes glossy and tearful when they meet his and he practically goes cross eyed as his orgasm hits him like a truck.

Nothing but a quiet whimper leaves his mouth as he empties cum into your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow before he is pulling you off of him by the back of your hair.

"Holy shit. That felt incredible," His lips mash against your’s as his grip tightens in the back of your hair, making you groan against him, shifting to try to elevate the pressure between your legs and, of course, he notices.

You don't notice his other hand, too focused on his hand already laced in your hair and his lips, until you feel him press against you through your leggings, a whimper creeping into his mouth.

"Look how wet you got. Fuck, I can feel you through your pants. All for me?" He teases against your lips and you nod mindlessly but he leans back, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"I asked you something. You should know to use your words," his voice is deep and his eyes bore into your own, the intensity forcing your own gaze to drop. His grip in your hair only tightens and he yanks again, pulling a squeal from you and our eyes meet once again, your own beginning to water at the force he’s holding your hair at.

"Eyes on me. I asked you a question. You're this wet for me, isn't that right?" He asks again and you nod, a quiet yes leaving your lips.

"I knew you could listen. Who else can get you this wet?" His question has a condescending tone, one that you've never seen on him before. His hand dips into your leggings and presses again your bare pussy. His hand is cold and it sends literal shivers down your spine in contrast to your hot skin.

"N-nobody. Only you," you gulp again, eyes falling closed when he pushes a finger into your dripping hole. An embarrassing squelching sound reaching your ears but for some reason, only turning you on more.

"You know why that is?" He asks, pushing the finger in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. You whine when he enters another but all you want is for him to fuck you at this point.

"W-why?" you whisper out, a moan following closely behind the shaky word.

"Because you belong to me," his voice is sharp and he quickly pulls his hand from your pants and grabs your wrists, pulling you to stand. He turns you around, pushing your chest against the balcony railing.

It finally hits you what you’ve done and what you’re about to do when you look down at the street. It was almost midnight and luckily nobody was on the road but for some reason, exhilaration fills you knowing that somebody could possibly see the two of you.

Before you can comment on it, your leggings are getting pushed down to your knees and the tip of Jisung's cock pokes at your entrance. When did he get hard again? Did he ever even get soft?

It doesn't matter when he dips the head of his cock into your waiting hole and pulls back out, making a whine leave your lips and your hips subconsciously try to rut back against him, his tip pushing against your pussy again.

"So dirty... It doesn'y bother you that someone could look up here and see what we're doing?" his words have you clenching and the head of his cock definitely feels it, he lets out a hiss as proof.

"You're just as dirty as me. That's how I know you were made for me," he leans down and whispers the second half into your ear as he finally slides into you.

Your knees buckle when he bottoms out and he quickly wraps an arm under your hips to hold you in place. His grip conveniently pushes against your lower stomach, pushing against where he's settled inside you, making you let out a yelp, a mix of pain and pleasure making you clench around him.

Before you can do anything, he pulls out and pushes in again, your entire body trembling as groans leave your throat. It feels like you can feel every centimeter of his cock against your insides.

“Shit, baby. You’re sucking me in so good. L-look at you shaking. Feels that good?” He questions as he begins to pull his hips back and forth, fucking into you roughly.

“Mhm, mhm,” You mumble out, incoherently. Why were you already about to cum? It had to be because of the weed. Your whole body just feels so sensitive to Jisung.

You can’t even warn him of your incoming orgasm before his arm supporting your hips moves and he presses his fingers to your clit, rubbing just the way he knows you like, knowing exactly how to push you over the edge.

“There you go. I feel you about to- fuck- I feel you about to c-cum around me, honey. You can let go. Let me feel you cum on my cock,” his filthy words were enough to push you over the edge and you let out a loud moan, definitely loud enough for anyone on the street to hear if they were there.

Jisung moves his hand from your clit but he never stops thrusting, pushing your limp body further against the railing. His thrusts begin to speed up and you whimper from the pure overstimulation he’s sending you into.

“F-fuck. I need to live in this pussy. I don’t want to pull out,” he continues to grunt, his breaths getting choppier, signaling he was about to cum.

“Then don’t,” your voice is barely above a whisper but Jisung hears you nonetheless, his hips faltering ever so slightly at your words.

“W-what?”

“Don’t pull out, Jisung. Cum in me. Fill me up. Don’t you want that too?” Your own words have you clenching around him, a side of you that you didn’t even know existed starting to creep out.

“Fuck yes. Fuck. I’m gonna fill this perfect, pretty pussy up. Just for you, for my baby. Fuck you’re mine,” and he stills, buried inside you. You’re still pulsing and clenching from your previous orgasm and you can feel him cumming deep inside of you, almost painfully as his tip presses against your cervix.

You let out a breath as Jisung slumps over your back, rubbing soothing circles into your hips while the two of you catch your breath. His head buries into your neck, pressing gentle kisses there before you slowly sit up. Jisung quickly pulls his shirt off and squats, wiping the cum dripping down your thighs with it. Again, what a gentleman.

Your phone vibrates and you answer quickly, seeing it was one of Jisung’s roommates who never usually called you.

“Hello? What’s up?” you hold the phone up to your ear as Changbin’s voice rings on the other end.

“Are you with your boyfriend?” He asks and your eyebrows furrow.

“Who? Hannie? He isn’t my boyfriend,” you chuckle and Jisung’s cleaning stops as he looks up at you with horrified eyes.

“I’m not your boyfriend?!” he exclaims and your eyebrows drop into a look of confusion. “I wouldn’t have just came in you if I didn’t think we were together!” he exclaims and suddenly the other line hangs up and you realize that Changbin just heard everything Jisung said and hopefully it wasn’t on speaker phone…

“What do you mean?! You never asked me out!” you defend and he stands, looking eye to eye with you again.

“Dude, I thought we started dating when we hooked up the first time and I told you that I was obssesed with you and you said, and I quote, ‘yeah. i know. i’m kinda obsessed with you too’ end quote,” he pouts at you and you let out a loud laugh at the adorable boy in front of you.

“Oh my gosh. You’re so cute Jisung,” You wrap your arms around his neck before leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

[thumpersbestie]

What about Needy Roommate Chris?

Needy roommate Chris who comes home late at night because he works so hard and is immediately removing his shirt, spreading out on the couch where you're curled up watching your favourite show.

Needy roommate Chris who is a little too open about the fact that he doesn't have time for casual sex but god does he wish he did. He doesn't mention that part of the reason he doesn't have 'time' is that he has to rush home whenever he can because he knows there's a 50/50 chance that you'll be getting yourself off late at night and he wouldn't dare to miss an opportunity to hear that.

Needy roommate Chris who sees you laying on the couch face down and comes over to sit on your thighs, massaging the tension from your shoulders. He hears you groan, you feel him getting hard, and he's asking if you want him to help take all that stress away.

Needy roommate Chris who has you convinced that a little head between friends is completely fine because fuck is he skilled with his tongue. The first time he does it, you swear you've seen god, and you just can't say no the next time he asks.

Needy roommate Chris that pins you to the wall when you get home from a date (that you didn't want to go on) and asks why you'd leave him alone all night. Maybe he's a little whiny, but he doesn't understand why you'd go on a date when he's right here, ready and waiting.

Needy roommate Chris who begs you to let him eat you out after a long day of work because nothing cheers him up quite like the taste of your pussy on his tongue. He could stay burried in your pussy for days and you'd consider letting him if it wasn't for the over stimulation.

Needy roommate Chris who leaves the door open when he's jerking off, hoping that you'll walk past his room and see him. He needs you to know how desperate you make him. Sure, he could tell. But isn't this so much better?

Needy roommate Chris who almost cums when you freeze in front of his door, eyes locked on yours as he moans your name, rambling about how badly he needs to have your cunt wrapped around his cock and how good he could make you feel if you let him.

Needy roommate Chris who accidentally becomes your (very willing) sex toy. You walk in stressed, and he's already home? He's telling you to come sit on his face without even thinking about it. You're venting about being needy as hell because you're ovulating? He's fucking you into his mattress and telling you how hard he gets every time he thinks of you.

Needy roommate Chris who is addicted to pleasing you. He has the face you make when you cum commited to his memory and he might also have a few videos of his cock sliding into you saved for the not so rare occassions that he has to rub one out in the bathroom at work because you consume every waking thought he has.

Needy roommate Chris who can't control what cones out of his mouth when he's fucking you like an animal, telling you that you're his and that he loves you and even though you chall it up to ecstasy fueled rambling, he means every single word.

[thumpersbestie]

Simple things you can do right now to support Gaza if you can't strike by staying home from work/school

queue posts about Palestine to regularly post throughout the week to keep them visible. Check tags like: #strike for gaza, #free gaza, #ceasefire now. I'm going to share posts from Bisan and other Palestinians on instagram.

don't spend money on nonessentials. if you didn't have time to prepare for the strike and still need to get groceries/medicine/etc, get it now to prepare for not spending the rest of the week! striking for even part of the week is better than not participating at all.

read bit.ly/StopGazaGenocide, this is a document put together by the US Campaign for Palestinian Rights (USCPR) with lots of good information and graphics and link to art you can freely use to spread awareness. There is also a link to email your representatives to urge them to stop supporting the occupation and the email is pre-generated! it took me one minute to send emails!

email your representatives that you are striking for Palestine!

keep talking about Palestine. keep reading about Palestine. keep caring about Palestine. If you make even one person pay attention, you've done good work! keep going!

Do what you can! Doing ANYTHING is better than doing nothing.

[thumpersbestie]

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[thumpersbestie]

When I was your man

Pairing: idol!Bang Chan × gn!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing much tho, it's barely there)

Request: ok so as much as i hate sad fics, i have an amazing idea that is definitely going to break many hearts... when i was your man by bruno mars, as inspiration for a chan fic.

A/n: ik this is inspired by when I was your man but listen to "shot glass of tears" by jungkook and "million reasons" by lady gaga, it really adds to the experience

He could just call you. He knew you would pick up and listen to what he had to say, even though it was probably going to be nonsense. Even if all he had to say was bullshit and excuses, you would listen. You could even give him another chance. But that time, he didn't want that.

No, horrible wording, Bang Chan thought to himself. Of course he wanted another chance. He loved you so much that all he could think of, even when the alcohol was all over his brain and the members and staff were talking about the new comeback, was when he'd get another chance to see you. I'm still not over with all the work for today. Tomorrow we have rehearsals. The day after that we have recording. We probably have something to do later as well, but I can't recall what it is. I don't think I'll have the time this week.

Oh, that was one of the problems. Time. Or the lack of it for that matter. He'd always be late for dinner and would always miss breakfast. In the beginning you thought it was understandable, although you never liked it. But as time went on, you felt you were dating a ghost: the only thing that guaranteed you had a boyfriend was the same old message he would sent you before any date. "Won't be able to make it. I'm sorry. I love you." After receiving so many texts like this in the spam of the last six months, you started to doubt the last two sentences.

But he was sorry. And he loved you. He was planning on how he could show you this now. Maybe he should buy you flowers. You've always liked it, you felt as it was romantic. But there's nothing romantic in excuses that hold no regret. Your words, not his. Won't buy flowers. Yeah, he'd already tried that one before.

Maybe he should take you out. A real date. He'd show up this time, he was sure of it. But would you? He remembers the episode of last week. He showed up after what felt like an eternity without seeing you. But you stood him up. At first he thought it was a little revenge. He would've deserved that if that was the case. But you weren't playing any games. You had just given up. How can you call it a date if you don't look at my eyes throughout it, just because you're to worried a paparazzi will show up? You can't even bring yourself to hold my hand. He read the message you sent at least a hundred times, enough for him to know it by heart and for those words to follow him everywhere he goes. It was the last text you sent him.

He could've called. You would've picked up. He knew you were just looking for a reason to stay, though you had a million reasons to quit. But you still had faith. You still loved him. Right now you were probably looking at your ceiling with teary eyes, trying to make the worst seem better. He knew you that much, and he knew you well.

But he didn't know himself that well. He didn't know then that he was able to put his pride aside. He didn't know that you weren't looking for a grand gesture. He didn't know that he was enough. You just wanted him, and he wasn't able to give it to you. He should've called. But he didn't.

If he had called you, you would've heard him. You would've believed in whatever he had to say. You wouldn't be dating someone new. Someone who has time for you. Someone who gives you flowers without trying to use it as an apology. Someone who's not afraid of being seen with you and holds your hand. The things he could've been to have you by his side if he had tried a little more.

Yeah, he should've called.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[thumpersbestie]

😫i love this sm

Can you do a Bangchan x reader smut/fluff? Also, keep up the great work!

𝒾'𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝒾��� 🥺 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 @linosssss ♡

𝐭𝐰: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 ; 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠) ; 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!) ; 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 ;

𝐰𝐜: 3,7𝐤

-> 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.

🏡

The house is full of boxes. 

Not just the house. Your house. The house you and Chan have just moved into. Literally just - considering you carried the last carton box inside your new apartment half an hour ago with the help of Chan’ friends. Your house - your dream has finally become true, and from now on you and Chan will be living together. Crazy.

Your eyes take in the small, yet welcoming living room, and a big smile spreads on your face. You can’t wait for the furniture to be here - which should be tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan. However right now, as you’re sitting on the hard, cold floor with your back leaning against the wall with Chan by your side and an empty carton of pizza on his legs, you can’t bring yourself to complain about not having a couch to lie down on. Or a table. Or a bed frame. You have everything you need by your side anyway - him. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ of, love?” Chan’ voice interrupts your thoughts. 

You turn to look at him, and find him already smiling at you - cute dimples and everything. How is it even possible, to be so in love with a person? 

“Just how much I love you,” you shrug, turning your face to look at him. “And how happy I am that we’re here, in our house,” you can’t help but smile widely at him. “It feels weird to say, our house,” you giggle.

“Good weird, I hope,” Chan teases, leaning in to brush your nose with his. He knows you’re as excited and happy as he is, you’ve both been dreaming it for a long time and now that it’s finally true you almost can’t believe it, it’s a happiness neither of you ever felt before. 

With you being busy with college and Chan always being snowed under work, there was never a good time to move in together - not to mention that neither of you made enough money to afford living alone. So you would live with your roommates and split rent, and he’d do the same, and you’d only see each other during the weekends - needless to say, the intimacy was pretty much nonexistent. But now everything’s different, and from now on you’ll have a whole place by yourself and you’ll be free to do whatever you want, so yeah, it’s definitely a “good” weird. 

“Of course it’s a good weird!”, you peck his lips, still a bit salty from the pizza he ate. “Gosh, I’m so happy…” you repeat for the millionth time today. 

“I am, too, love,” he bites his lip. “Like, we finally have our own place, it’s crazy!”, he places a kiss on your naked shoulder. 

It’s spring, your anniversary is approaching. This year will be your fourth. 

Four years sound like a big deal. Part of you is scared of what adult life holds for you: responsibilities, bills to pay, changes to face, ageing - another part of you, though, can’t wait to face it all with Chan by your side, the man you want to be with for the rest of your life. It sounds crazy, to think you’ve found the love of your life at such a young age, but you also know it’s one hundred percent the truth. He’s incredible, everything you ever wished for in a partner and so much more: smart, kind, in touch with his emotion in a healthy way, mature, and last but not least - he’s fucking great in bed. Like - fucking great. He’s a dream.

Now that you’re thinking about it, having a whole place by yourselves also means that you’ll finally be able to have sex whenever you want without worrying about your or his roommates catching you or interrupting you while you’re at it - like that time his dear friend Jisung bursted inside Chan’ bedroom while he was giving it to you from behind real good. And from now on you won’t have to worry about keeping quiet anymore, nor to lock your bedroom door. You could have sex in the kitchen in broad daylight if you wanted to. 

“Mh-hm, we have our own place, which means…”, you take the pizza box from his lap and place it on the floor. Then, you straddle him, and his arms immediately find their way around your waist,  pulling you even closer so that you’re now sitting on his crotch. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”, he whispers on your lips, drawing imaginary shapes over your clothes with his thumbs. Under your body, you can feel his cock beginning to stir inside his sweats. 

“That depends…” you place the palms of your hands on his chest, then latch your mouth on the skin of his neck. He sucks in a breath, and you feel his Adam apple bobble. By now, his cock is fully hard in his underwear, pressing right on your clothed cunt, creating the perfect friction against your clit, and he grips your hips, keeping you in place. “If you’re thinking of your naked body on top of mine… then yes,” you breathe out, slowly grinding on the bulge in his sweats as you continue to suck on his neck. 

“Oh, I’m totally thinking of you, naked, under me…” Chan breathes heavily, one of his hands moving from your hips to grope one of your boobs. He squeezes his eyes shut, when you let your hand roam down his body - down, down, down, until it reaches the tent in his sweats. He sucks in a breath when you palm him over the fabric, and he squeezes your ass. “You- shit,” he curses under his breath when you grind on his erection, “you want that?”

You keep leaving kiss on his neck, running your tongue all over his soft skin, leaving open mouthed kisses as your hand is pressed against his chest. “You’re seriously asking if I want to have sex with you after I’ve been grinding on your dick for the past five minutes?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles, pulling you closer, and it’s his turn now to latch his mouth to your neck, and you gasp.

“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page,” he breathes against your skin, then pulls you even closer, and you both moan at the friction his action causes. 

“Oh, we so are,” you kick your head slightly back when he sucks on that sensitive spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. His other hand, in the mean time, finds its way on one of your breasts. He chuckles when you let out a squeak. 

“Our first night in our home…” Chan mumbles while still leaving kisses on your neck, and you arch your back. “We should really do something about it, shouldn’t we?” 

“Mh-hm,” you hum in agreement, “You know what else you should do something about?” you wrap your fingers around his wrist. 

“What?” he places a kiss on your clavicle, right below the crook of you neck as he breathes in your familiar scent. 

You drag his hand all over your body, then allow his fingers to slip under the waistband of your sweats and your underwear, brushing your mound. He smiles and bites his lip as his fingers move to brush your entrance, but sucks in a breath once he feels how wet you are - panties completely soaked. “This.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears under his breath. “You’re so wet. How are you so wet? Fuck,” his eyes flutter shut as his fingers, damp with your arousal, circle your clit. You moan in response and let go of his wrist - he knows what to do. “You drive me fucking crazy, fuck. Sitting on my cock, acting all cute and stuff while you’re soaking your panties,” he mumbles, more to himself actually. 

Chan is good with his fingers. 

The first time he fingered you, you ended up cumming all over his digits only a couple of minutes later - and he hadn’t even touched your clit. He’s the one who introduced you to the wonders of the orgasm from penetration, making you cum and literally see stars just from rubbing your g-spot for seconds - which your ex never ever found in the first place, then around his dick. 

“Don’t make fun of me!” you pout, but are immediately cut off by two of Chan’ digits entering you, and you gasp at the feeling of his fingers filling you up. “Oh.”

“What’s that, hm? Cat got your tongue?” Chan teases you as he gives a slow pump of his fingers inside of you, hissing at the way your arousal coats them completely. He likes to act all cocky and stuff, but the both of you know that, the second he’s inside you, he’ll lose his mind. 

“Ass-“ you’re cut off by his fingers lifting your tank top, revealing your chest. Asshole,” you chuckle. “You know the effect your fingers have on me.”

“Just my fingers?”, he chuckles, before his lips close around one of your nipples. “What about my cock?”

He presses the pad of his thumb on your clit. You whimper, shaking your head. “All of you. All of you drives me crazy - the way you kiss me, the way you touch me, the way your eyes stare into mine when you make love to me- fuck.”

You hiss the last word when Chan bites your exposed shoulder and grunts. He keeps moving his fingers inside of you, at a much quicker pace, determined to make you cum, and it’s working, because you’re already so close. The pad of his thumb is brushing your clit with every slight movement of his fingers inside of you, and he smirks when he hears you let out a shaky breath - he knows your body well, maybe even better than you do. 

“Chan, I-“ you pant against his skin, one hand desperately gripping his tank top as your legs start to shake. 

“I know, love. You can let go, I’m right here,” he whispers in your ear, “I’m gonna take care of you.” 

Not just now, he’s always gonna take care of you. 

You release around his fingers with a muffled sob, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as a couple of swear words leave your mouth. Your orgasm washes all over you and Chan helps you ride it out, stopping the movements of his fingers inside of you only when he knows you can’t take it anymore - meanwhile, he presses soft kisses on your bare shoulder as you come down your high. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks you after he’s made sure your heartbeat has finally slowed down to a much more regular pace. You hum a faint “yes”, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, wet with your sweet release. 

He puts them near his mouth and you know what he’s about to do. He wraps his plump lips around his own fingers and swirls his tongue all over his digits, determined to lick them clean. He hums as soon as his tastebuds recognize your taste. “Always taste so sweet, love. Here,” he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and taps your lips with his pads. 

His digit taste of your release and Chan’s saliva mixed up. You hum too, and he watches you closely with full-blown pupils and parted lips how you suck on his fingers, which were previously in his mouth and, before that, deep inside your pussy. Chan loves it when you’re filthy, but tonight he’s in a whole other mood - it’s your first day in your new home after all, he wants it to be special.

It’s gonna be nothing but sweet lovemaking tonight.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” Chan asks you, sucking a bright pink mark on the sensitive skin of your clavicle.

To call it a bedroom would be a euphemism, considering there’s just your mattress inside the room, together with three of four boxes. Just your mattress. Placed on the ground, in the center of the empty room. The furniture is being delivered tomorrow, so tonight you’ll be sleeping like this, although your sixth sense is telling you that perhaps you won’t be sleeping at all tonight. The mattress looks funny with the sheets messily wedged in under it, but neither you nor Chan seem to care about the sheets right now, not with how eager the both of you are. 

Lying on a mattress that’s lying on the floor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it’ll work for tonight. Chan’s hands are immediately all over you, his lips on yours within seconds as soon as you both lie down on the bed, lips on your neck as his body is pressed on top of yours, your legs wrapped around his as his hard-on brushes your clothed cunt. 

“Chan…” you whine, the friction between your legs becoming unbearable - you need to feel him without any layer between your bodies. “Take these off,” you huff, tugging at his sweats. 

He kneels between your legs, and you quickly sit on the mattress to take off your tank top. Chan gasps at the sight of your naked boobs, even though he’s seen them many, many times. His tank top comes off, then his sweats and boxers are next. The second your gaze falls on his hard cock, all you want to do is wrap your lips around its tip, then take the rest of his length in your mouth and milk him dry - his balls look so full, and you want nothing more than to taste him. That may be a lie, though, because you also want him to cum inside of you… you just can’t chose with him. 

“Take off yours now, love? Show me that pretty pussy?”

You slide your own sweats down the curve of your ass too, together with your damp underwear, and Chan bites his lips at the sight of the wet patch on your panties, even though it shouldn’t surprise him, since he was the one who made you cum before. 

“How do you want me?” You whisper to him, and he swears he felt a shiver run down his spine - you’re just so hot, and he loves you so much. 

“Just like this, fuck, you’re so hot,“ Chan grunts as his eyes take in your naked figure sprawled in front of him, legs open wide to welcome his body between them. “Want to look at your pretty face when I make love to you, want to see your eyes roll in the back of your head when I stick my cock in you,” he grunts. 

It’s true, you do it every time - it’s hard not to, when the cock’s this good. 

“What are you waiting for, then? Put it in,” you smirk, biting your lip. 

Chan pumps his cock with his fist for a couple of seconds, smearing pre-cum all over his tip to make sure it doesn’t sting when he enters you, although you’re wet enough to take him. His veiny hand looks insanely good wrapped around himself, pumping his length with a familiarity and a confidence only he can have with his body. You don’t miss the way his balls tighten, looking heavy and full, and you’re ready to take all he has to give you. You want him to empty his load inside of you - mouth or pussy, you don’t really care. His cock looks harder than before, tip pink and angry, the vein that runs along the underside thick and pulsating. 

You gasp when he gets closer and aligns his cockhead at your entrance, brushing your swollen clit in the process. “You ready?” He asks you, and after you nod, he pushes inside. 

Just like he predicted, you roll your eyes in the back of your skill at the feeling of his cock finally stretching you out. He sinks inside of you at an incredibly slow pace that makes you shiver and gasp. “Fuck,” you moan. He intertwines his fingers with yours as he continues pushing inside. It feels big, hot and hard inside of you. “’s big,” you whine out of pleasure. 

Chan’s cock throbs inside of you as he pushes another inch inside. “Yeah?” Then chuckles when you nod. “You’re taking it so well, tho, love. Just a couple inches left, you’re doing so good,” he whimpers. 

When he finally bottoms out, you feel so full it almost hurts - every single one of the inches of his beautiful cock sheathed inside of you. Chan lets his body fall on top of yours, pressing his bare torso on your chest and placing his strong hands at each side of your head while he balances his weight on his elbows. “You alright?” He asks, kissing you on the corner of your lips. 

“Feel so full,” you gasp, and he smirks, pecking your lips. 

“Does it feel good?” He asks you, brushing your soft hair with his fingers. “Because you feel amazing around me, love,” he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. 

“So good, baby. So, so good,” you whimper, “You can move now.”

You don’t know how he does that, but Chan always manages to find the perfect angle when it comes to thrusting inside of you. He starts by pulling almost all the way out, arching his back a little and then sinking back inside of you. It’s his turn to roll his eyes in the back of his head now, when he feels your tight walls welcoming him, pulsating around his thick length. It’s a slow thrust - the first one. A thrust that allows him to test the waters, a thrust that makes the both of you shiver. 

You arch your back and pelvis, allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you. 

“My God, love, you feel so good around me,” Chan grunts, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, then repeats his previous movements with his hips once again. “So warm, so tight…”

His hips meet yours once more, and a shaky breath leaves your lips - the way he’s moving inside of you combined with the hot, open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving on the skin of your neck are making you feel dizzy already. You wrap your arms around Chan’s torso, scratching his naked back with your fingernails - you hear him whimper and you bite your lips at his reaction, because you know just what to do to drive him crazy. 

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” Chan moans and you oblige, entangling your legs with his, pulling him closer than he already is until it feels like you’re melting at each other’s touch. 

His thrusts are slow, not rushed, reaching that deep spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and scratch his back a bit harder. His kisses burn on your skin, his swollen lips feel hot when he presses them on yours to muffle the sounds that escape his own lips - it’s the force of habit. For years the both of you had had to keep quiet in bed in order not to get caught by Chan’s or your roommates - now, though, you can be as loud and whiny as you want. That’s why you pull away from the kiss, then cup his face with your hands. He doesn’t stop moving inside of you. 

“I want to hear those pretty sounds you make,” you whisper on his lips. 

Chan is whiny. The softest whimpers fall from his lips as he moves inside of you, rocking his hips back and forth to meet your thrusts. It’s almost addicting, the way he sounds when he’s fucking you. He also grunts and groans, but it’s the soft cries he lets out every time he bottoms out inside of you that are your favorites, especially when he looks at you with those eyes. His chocolate brown eyes are fully blown, cheeks flustered and brows slightly furrowed as the pace of his thrusts increases. He’s getting close, and you are too. 

“Touch yourself, love,” Chan whispers on your lips, “‘M not gonna last much longer. Wanna cum together.”

You delicately push two digits in Chan’s mouth, and he sucks and licks them to get them wet enough - when you take them out, there’s a string of saliva that connects them to his lips, and it’s the hottest thing ever. You whine when your own fingers brush your clit, wet with Chan’s spit. Rubbing fast circles on your sensitive bud, you manage to get yourself off right before he finds his own release. 

“Look at me,” Chan whimpers, “Look at me when you cum, fuck.” 

You do exactly that, and when he feels you clenching around him, he finds his own release much quicker than he thought he would. Chan looks beautiful when he cums. Eyes rolled in the back of his skull, swollen lips parted as he releases the sweetest sounds, Adam’s apple bobbing as he shoots his load inside of you. 

“Fuck, love, there’s so much cum. ‘M cumming so much, fuck,” he curses under his breath as he keeps on releasing and releasing, filling you up to the brim until it starts to spill out of you, wetting the sheets. 

You place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and he crashes his lips onto yours as he continues to ride out his orgasm as you play with his soft curls. Eventually, with a sigh, his body collapses on top of yours and he hides his face in your cleavage, chest rising and falling quickly. 

“Chan, baby,” you call his name after a while, “Can you hand me a towel?”

He nods, but as he kneels between your legs he realizes something. “Shit, they’re still inside the boxes, love.”

You smile at him. “It’s fine. It just means we’ll have our first shower in our new home.”

Chan smiles at you too. When you sit on the mattress, the action causes his seed to eventually drip from your hole, and when you look down, you find out the sheets are completely drenched in Chan’s cum. 

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, guilty, “maybe we should do our first laundry, too.”

🏡

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 - “𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧” 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝.

[thumpersbestie]

spot the difference challenge: extreme‼️

[thumpersbestie]

reblog if it's okay for your mutuals to message you and create an actual friendship, not just interactions

[thumpersbestie]

Sukuna&You

Riding

[thumpersbestie]

Lasting Impact I 1

Mob!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

When you treat a mob with dignity—he will come back to offer his services in return. Against all logic, he is drawn to that event, is it fate?

Warnings - heavy angst, gun shot wound, loneliness

Words - 1.8k

(Inspired by "The Gambler" by Dostoyevsky)

A shot rings out in the middle of the street which alerts you, and just as the sound reaches your ears—Bucky feels the hot streak of a bullet pierce his side, spattering blood on the ground before him—he falls backwards from the force of the shot, but he doesn’t die, for how can you kill what is already dead?

There is no noise, he falls completely silent while everyone else around is running away—you are heading right toward him.

An unsuspected depth of hopeless grief and despair in his soul. He wants to sleep so badly—dying they call it—and he can't. Something's bothering him to keep him awake.

“Sir?”

You keep on repeating in a supplicating voice.

“Sir!”

You hurriedly pull out your phone from your pocket while he looks at you and listens with curiosity.

“Vitosha boulevard 120, a man got shot-yes, he is still responsive, but bleeding”

His yearning, feverish eyes are already fixed on your face when yours fasten upon his.

“Just lie down and remain still, Sir” you say with a carelessly easy, though perfectly polite tone.

You use your small pocket knife to cut through his shirt and then apply direct pressure to the wound with your bare hands

“Do you know who I am?” he asks in a quiet voice, without a trace of irritation, with a note of the simplest curiosity, but he is almost gasping for breath as he utters his question. He turns pale, his lips quiver as a mournful smile comes on to his lips.

“Of course I do” you falter mistrustfully, looking with a forced smile into his eyes. Bucky still gazes at you, seems unable to speak.

Intense, infinite guilt overwhelms him instantly. There is a poignant ache in his torn heart, a crack. That's how the light gets in—but it is mixed with great contempt, almost repugnance—why would you treat him so normally? Address him as Sir? He caused so many problems in this city.

There is a sudden change in his face—he feels at peace lying on his back, without movement or consciousness.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Bucky slowly opens his eyes, the sterile scent of disinfectant filling his nostrils. He reclines in the hospital bed, arranged for him only, propped up with several pillows, watching the endless procession of people past the open door while two guards stand there. 

A blaze of memory jabs at him, as if a shock brings life into his brain—a line of dark silhouettes, playing a theatrical play in his mind—he remembers the feeling of almost dying. A random woman helping him despite him being a mob? The whole proceeding is a delirium, a madness.

He needs to thank you.

His brother enters the room, his tired eyes searching for Bucky’s

"That was a close one" his voice is trembling and his eyes are flashing fire.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As he enters your examination room, he feels something like a touch of ice on his heart, like a recollection or, more exactly, a reminder, of something agonizing and revolting when he sees your back—he is a creep who found out where you work, made an appointment and now, he is here—

“Hey, I wanted to come by and thank you properly”

When you turn around, your face betrays intense, almost morbid, curiosity—yet his face makes an almost menacing impression.

In the first place, everything about the infamous mobster seems so foul to you—so morally mean and foul—Yet why should you deceive yourself? He is beautiful, his blue eyes as if febrile waves are trembling there, pools of seduction—you nibble at your lower lip, he looks good—a sin in a suit.

You don’t know that, but he has ordered it expressly for the occasion of coming here, from his own tailor, who has his measure.

But he is looking stiff as he comes straight in front of you, but it has been only three weeks since the accident and it is hard to hide the pain entirely. His rather puffy lips curve into something between a sneer and a smile. His face is pleasant, but his eyes, which, in themselves are rather inexpressive, land on your own lips.

Bucky couldn't remember your face in any precise detail—he wants to learn every line of it.

You are in such an irritated frame of mind, because of our own thoughts and his closeness that in rude and abrupt fashion you blurt out the questions

“Why? What? Why are you here?” your retort as you eye him with dry grimness. 

To James you seem half-afraid, but at the same time—your tone asserts such a right over him, assuming such authority to question him around. You await his reply with such gravity and impatience that he finds the situation unpleasant. Bucky’s eyes gleam resentfully, his left eye wink, and he at once gives his answer, with his habitual composure and tone as he slowly stretches out his hand, holding a business card.

“My personal number”

This strikes your heart instantly; you take it all in and note it at once—most of all the look in your eyes, positively malicious, churlish and haughty.

“Why do I need it?” you inquired with grave disapproval in your tone, and a stare, of astonishment, while he looks at you unbelievably.

“It is for when you need someone to be disposed of. Thank you for helping me.”

Consequently, you are momentarily awed into silence by his words—there is indeed someone that needs to be disposed of, someone who is poisoning your life.

“But I won’t mind a date” he mutters, but with a sudden change from a truculent tone to one of entreaty as he catches you by the hand—with not a little discomfiture.

His mind works well when it comes to his work, but his heart is darkened with depravity, murder, longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible without a pure heart—he is full of mental pain and addictions.

Those innocent eyes cut his soul like a razor—however, in a depraved man this, too, might be only a sensual attraction. Memories are bullets—but maybe the bullet he took that day was fate binding him with you? He doesn't possess these thoughts he has—they possess him. 

He stares impudently at you, awning for your response, not letting go of your hand.

“I will think about it, Sir”

you speak without haste, controlling yourself so well, yet there is something in your voice, determined and emphatic, resentful and insolently defiant.

Lastly, with a nod, he walks away with a pleased expression on his face. When an inner situation is not made conscious it appears outside as fate—he really needs someone, but he is not sure if he has enough courage to trust or even love again.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

He lounges in the overstuffed leather chair, idly sipping at the two fingers of whiskey he has poured into a crystal glass, but It hasn’t been touched, a dear souvenir taken as a prize from a recent enemy, the one who tried to kill him.

“What else did you find about her?”

He stands up and goes in front of the panoramic window of the mansion, staring out through the bulletproof glass and somewhat inspecting himself through the reflection staring back at him.

“She filed for divorce, but she couldn't pay for the legal fees, court filing fees so she is now delaying it”

Something seems to give way in his brain, and he shudders all over with a cold shiver as he turns around to face the man. Then Georgi himself looks at him wonderingly—probably the genuineness of Bucky’s horror strikes him. 

“She is married?” he asks with complete self‐possession, firmly uttering his words.

“She is trying not to be, Barnes” he falters mistrustfully, looking with a forced smile into his eyes. “We will find everything about her, make sure she is not a threat to your life” Georgi comments, without the least irony, with apparent sympathy in fact. 

James is in terrible distress. Perhaps not knowing more irritates him, as he suddenly sighs deeply. 

“Perhaps” Georgi begins, assuming a look of great forbearance, but gazing at Bucky in a meaningful way “You would be happy to hear that she has a library card. She seems to like reading Russian boo-”

But common sense—oh, the most unhappy trait in his character.

“Or she might be a Russian spy” he mutters as he gives Georgi a momentary glance, and then swiftly averts his eyes.

“You decided to make that appointment the moment we found out where she works, but now you have second thoughts?”  he adds, quietly enough, yet with a note of irritation in his tone.

He waves him away, looking at Georgi with his direct, unwavering glance.

Bucky is in such a confused and despondent state of mind that he doesn't want to talk about it. He is obsessed with the concept that there is a combination of a strong, passionate desire, as something fated, inevitable, and foreordained—something bound to happen, but at the same time he is afraid, because nothing ends well for him. Hesitation, suspense, conflict between belief and disbelief—is torturous even to a man like him.

Georgi knows what Bucky’s quietness means—he can approach it through metaphor. His pain is always the opposite of language—silence.

“I'm going to the casino, waste some money” says Bucky disdainfully. He is exerting himself to the utmost not to believe in his own delusions and not to sink into complete insanity.

The idea of both love and happiness—Bucky is very conscious of the momentariness that intensifies its fire, which now dissipates in daydreams beyond his control, It is long since he has longed for anything and the effect on him is horrible.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You cease walking around your own bedroom, sit down on the sofa, lean your elbows on the table again and hold your head tightly in both hands.

Almost a month has passed since you last touched his business card—you find yourself having no thought for the future, only living under the influence of passing moods, because of your husband who refuses to divorce you.

You are drunk which makes you lose my sense of order and reality, an idea continues whirling and whirling and whirling around in your mind—Bucky can deal with your husband, he can just beat him, right? And your madness is not hysteria. It is very quiet, your face grows gloomy with uneasiness—you are wasting your life in anger, worries, loneliness.

You go to sleep. Sleep is your only lover.

[thumpersbestie]

Thinking about Skz's BangChan letting you sit and lay on his lap when he's busy as you wait for him to be done and give you some attention. Omg. Imagine falling asleep because he's taking too long, snoring a little as you sleep with your head on his shoulder. I'm fucking touch starved.

[thumpersbestie]

Imagine beefy Bucky with a baby girl. That’s his tiny princess. His little angel. She’s nearly invisible the first time he carries her, the little bundle lost in his thick arms. Her tiny hand hardly wraps around his finger, holding onto him while he caressed her soft chubby cheeks.

He’s in tears the first time she’s placed in his hold, her first instinct being to nuzzle into his warm chest.

Just like her mama.

She's so delicate and precious, he never wants to let her go. He wants to keep her warm, safe and protected forever, giving her the most feather light kisses while snuggling her close.

She loves his voice, easily falling asleep to it when he reads and sings to her. She coos when he's near by, happily squealing when she hears his footsteps, ready for the warmest cuddles in daddy's firm, strong arms. She loves to lay her head against his chest where she can hear his heart beat, falling asleep every time he carries her.

It makes everyone around the compound melt into a puddle every time they witness it. This large mass of metal and muscle cooing and giggling at the tiny bundle of pink sleeping on his chest, swaying with her while she clutches onto his dogtags.

Sam and Tony initially want to tease him over it but its just so wholesome, all the sneaky pictures they take are saved for memories. Steve could spend hours watching his best friend become a husband, a father, happy to see him get a happy ending that he deserves. He loves seeing the way Bucky's face lights up when your by his side, looking at you with pure heart eyes.

He loves to spend time with the both of you in your shared bedroom, keeping you in his lap while his little one nurses, caressing your skin, telling you how much he loves you both. He loves intimate moments like this where his kisses and touches are purely from how much he loves you. You always almost fall asleep because of how warm he is and he loves it every time. As soon as your eyes grow heavy, he takes his baby from your arms, helping you lie down before rocking and burping her. He wipes her little pouty lips, before soothing her to sleep.

As soon as she's in her crib, he's there to tend to you next, rubbing your back while you're already softly snoring, sighing contently feeling his touch.

This is the life he's dreamed of and there's nothing that could get better than this.

Until a few weeks later where he'll find out he has a baby boy on the way.

[thumpersbestie]

Going Under Ch. 28

summary: the team joins Bucky and Gianna in New York for Thanksgiving as a family <3

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: Real Love Baby - Father John Misty

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: special holiday episode! Happy (late) Thanksgiving! guys listen...I had a whole plan for this story to have some drama and angst and a twist and now everyone is saying it's their happy little fluffy escapist story and I can't make myself do the original storyline! so I just keep writing fluff and happiness! let me know if you want me to stick to the happy stuff or go back to my original plan. thanks for reading, ily ily ily!

chapter list

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The sun had yet to fully breach the horizon when Gianna woke in the soft cocoon of Bucky's arms. The room, kissed by early morning light, painted an incriminating image of the night before. Gianna’s gown was crumpled in the doorway, discarded. Her heels were a few feet behind that, barely visible in the hallway. A black dress shirt marked a trail to the bed, a dark leather belt sitting atop forgotten dress pants. In the midst of plush bedding, tangled limbs and a mess of blonde and dark haired bedhead.

Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to Gianna’s forehead, his gaze soft as he watched her stir. 

"Morning, doll," he whispered, a smile playing on his lips.

Gianna stretched, her eyes finding his. "Mornin’, handsome."

“Big day today.”

“Mmhmm. I should have gotten more rest.” She yawned. 

“Sorry.” His grin was anything but apologetic. 

“No you’re not.” 

“No…I’m not.” His hand traced lazy circles on her stomach beneath the comforter.

“What’s on the agenda today, Sergeant?” 

Bucky, unraveling himself from the bedsheets, grinned. "Well, first, coffee. Then, once you’re fully functioning, we’ll have a little time to get ready before the team gets here. Maybe we can grab a few candles from the corner store, make it a little homier in here."

“Bucky Barnes, homemaker extraordinaire.” She teased, slipping out from under the comforter. “I didn’t know you had a Martha Stewart side.” 

“Who’s Martha Stewart?” He frowned.

“Nevermind.”

The brisk New York air greeted Gianna and Bucky as they stepped out of the Avengers' Tower. The city pulsed with energy, waking up to a day of celebration. Even at the early hour, the streets were bustling with pedestrians running their last minute errands. Hand in hand, they strolled toward a quaint corner café, the aroma of freshly ground coffee guiding their way.

Bucky’s eyes darted around the sidewalk, always on guard for anything to threaten their peaceful little bubble. His gaze softened as he looked at Gianna. "You know, this place reminds me of the little coffee shop we found in Kansas City during the tour."

Gianna grinned, the memory flooding back. "Oh yeah! The one with the too-small tables but amazing little pastries."

“Those tables were made for children.”

“Well,” She laughed. “Maybe just not for Super Soldiers.” 

“Discrimination.”

As they entered the café, the familiar chime of the bell overhead signaled their arrival. The barista, recognizing them, greeted them with a warm smile. They had a few favorites in the city, but this hidden gem was beloved by the team for the low key atmosphere and the discretion of the staff. 

Bucky stepped forward to order their usual drinks, his demeanor softened in civilian clothes. They settled into a cozy corner, the buzz of the city muffled by the quiet ambiance of the café. Their drinks came quickly, thanks to the lack of other patrons so early.

Sipping his black coffee, Bucky began to reminisce again. "Remember that night when we couldn’t even get into the hotel because the fans had swarmed the whole block around the entrance?"

Gianna chuckled, sipping her latte. "Um, you mean the night you lifted me onto that platform by the service entrance like I was literally seven pounds? How could I forget such a pivotal moment!"

He cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Pivotal how?”

“Pivotal because that was the moment I cared more about getting you back in my bed than getting back to my room safely.” Gianna’s eyes narrowed, her face half sheepish, half flirtatious. The way his eyes darkened ever so slightly made her stomach flip. 

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” She sipped her coffee slowly without breaking eye contact.

“So why didn’t you ask me to stay again?”

“I couldn’t just ask you to sleep over with me.” 

“Yes. Yes, you absolutely could have.” 

“Okay, noted for the next time I want to seduce my mysterious and emotionally aloof bodyguard.” 

He scowled, shooting her a sidelong look to say he wasn’t a fan of the joke. Gianna breezed past it. "And then there was that show in Dallas when it didn’t stop raining for hours. I felt like I was performing in a hurricane."

“I should probably apologize to Tom for the things I threatened trying to get him to cancel it. I thought for sure you’d get sick, or hurt, or whatever the hell else happens when you stand in the rain for three hours.” Bucky rubbed his jaw. “That was before I knew you were the stubborn one keeping us from canceling.”

“A little rain never hurt anyone.” Gianna's fingers traced patterns on the steaming cup. "Those were good days. Long days, long nights, for sure. But it was good. I love those memories." Her eyes flicked up. “With you.” 

Bucky's voice softened as he reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Yeah. They were good days."

A few hours later, the air buzzed with the arrival of the rest of the team. The Quinjet touched down on the landing pad mid-morning. One by one, Earth's mightiest heroes descended down the ramp, each carrying some kind of bag or dish. Except for Tony, who strode down empty-handed. 

“Damn, you clean up alright.” Sam elbowed Bucky as he strode past, pretending to gawk at his uncharacteristically cozy sweater and jeans combo. 

“Surprised you clean up at all.” 

“Don’t be grumpy on Thanksgiving,” Wanda scolded, thrusting a dish into Bucky’s arms. “Hi, G.” She kissed Gianna on both cheeks before following the men to the elevator. 

“Something smells amazing!” Gianna called after her. “Here, let me take something.” She held her hands out for Natasha to pass her a bag. 

The Tower, now adorned with autumnal decorations, felt like a homecoming. The team reconvened in the main common area, having dispersed briefly to drop off their belongings in their respective rooms. Music played over the speakers, candles were lit across every flat surface in the room, the sounds of the kitchen filled the air. 

Natasha, expertly chopping vegetables, shot a smirk at Tony. "Remember the first Thanksgiving we spent together? Turkey disaster, anyone?"

Tony, feigning innocence from his seat at the bar, replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about. The fire was small, barely noticeable."

Pots simmered, ovens hummed, and the rich aroma of Thanksgiving filled the air. As usual, Wanda and Gianna took the lead on cooking, enlisting the help of other hands as necessary. Tony didn’t move from his seat, sipping a drink and “supervising.” 

Wanda turned from where she stirred the pot of gravy. "Back in Sokovia, we didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. This tradition feels like something we missed out on."

Steve, kneading dough for his alleged famous apple pie, nodded in agreement. "One thing about America, we take our holiday celebrations seriously. Especially when they’re centered around eating.” He paused before adding, “and being grateful.” 

“Cap, put a dollar in the morality police jar.” Tony gestured with his drink.

As the feast took shape, the team gathered around Tony’s grand dining table, fully set for dinner. Finally making his contribution, he walked around the table filling everyone’s wine glass. Wanda floated the final dish to the table, now lined with steaming, hot food. They sat, joined hands, and obliged when Steve wanted to say grace.

“Amen!” Tony stood. “As owner of this lovely home, benefactor of the team, and generally the boss of everyone, I will do the honor of carving the turkey.”

Bucky squeezed Gianna’s knee under the table. “Happy Thanksgiving, G.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving, James Buchanan Barnes.” 

Laughter and conversation flowed freely as they savored the feast. Stories of past missions, arguments over who was at fault for what going wrong, and favorite victories echoed through the room. Steve clinked his knife against his glass, cutting through the conversation.

"I know you’re all going to give me a hard time for being old and sappy, but I don’t care. I’m grateful for all of you, even when you’re ruthlessly teasing me. I love you guys. To family," he declared. Even Tony’s eyes crinkling in a smile. The others echoed his sentiment with raised glasses and a chorus of "To family!"

"Alright, everyone. Let's go around the table. What are we thankful for this year?" Wanda was ever the sentimental one, but no one dared tease her. Whether it was for fear of her own retaliation, or the protective older-brother nature of Steve and Sam, everyone saved their jokes for the former. 

Nat spoke first. "I'm thankful for the resilience of this team. In a world that's ever-changing, you all remain a constant. I’m thankful for the no bullshit, no judgment, badass group of weirdos that you are."

Steve nodded in agreement. "I'm thankful for the chance to make a difference, every day. Thankful for reconnecting with old friends," He grinned at Bucky. “As well as all of my new ones. I’m thankful for the chance to fight alongside the best people I know. I’m thankful for this city, this country, and this hell of a meal that Wanda put together.” Across the table, Wanda blushed at his praise.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on Gianna beside him as he spoke, "I'm thankful for new beginnings. New additions to the family. Old friends,” He winked at Steve. 

“Emphasis on old.” Tony chimed in, unable to handle sentiment without a joke. 

“I’m thankful for beautiful women who need a little help keeping themselves out of trouble.” Bucky continued. He squeezed Gianna’s hand. “I’m thankful for Gianna, her kindness and her…gentleness, and…” Seeming to realize he was in public, he straightened. “And the fact that she clearly doesn’t realize how far out of my league I am.” 

“Hear, hear,” Sam raised his glass in agreement, earning a glare.

Gianna smiled at Bucky, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm thankful for finding a home among heroes. I’m thankful for sweet friends with open arms. I’m thankful for a new record label,” She winked at Tony. “Good coffee, great food, and a super smoking hot bodyguard.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with all the emotion as the gazes shifted to her, "I'm thankful for my family. Really, truly, incredibly thankful. I love you guys." Her voice cracked at the end. Gianna’s free hand found hers under the table and gave it a squeeze. Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders, showing her affection while deflecting with his own gratitude.

"I'm thankful that I’m now the hottest, most eligible bachelor on the team. Thanks, Buck, ‘preciate that. I’m thankful for this sweet, sweet meal. I’m thankful that my bedroom is further away from y’all here than at the compound.” He gestured to Gianna and Bucky. “I’m thankful for all of you yahoos. I love y’all.” 

Peter chimed in, "I'm thankful for having more cool uncles and aunts than anyone else I know. I’m thankful to almost be done with that Political Science class. Thankful to Mr. Stark for bringing me in. Thankful to Gianna for making my street cred go through the roof, thanks to that dinner. Love you guys.”

Tony raised his glass, rounding out the table. "To my chosen family, oddballs and misfits as you may be—thankful for you all, today and always. Cheers."

"Cheers!" they exclaimed, clinking glasses. The Tower, filled with the aroma of Thanksgiving and the echoes of laughter, felt more like a home than ever before.

Peter, grinning mischievously, proposed, "How about a game to cap off the night?"

With wine glasses in hand and the remaining slices of pie scattered across the coffee table, the team had settled into mild food comas. Tony, always willing to keep the party going, produced a charades set with theatrical flourish.

"Alright, my friends, time for - drumroll please - Hasbro’s newest addition to the game aisle, Avengers’ Charades! This should be a piece of cake for those in attendance." Tony waved the box haphazardly. Appointing himself the designated 'game master,' he took charge of the box. "Who wants to go first?"

Wanda volunteered. She downed her wine and took a slip of paper from the box, her eyes scanning the words. A mischievous grin played on her lips.

"Alright, let's see who can guess this." She struck a pose, fingers wiggling in the air, and began floating her empty wine glass in the air.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Telekinesis!"

Wanda nodded in approval, grinning, as Tony marked a point down for Nat. “Technically, that could be considered cheating, but when has that ever been against my moral code.”

Natasha went next, picking a slip and accepting the challenge with a smirk. She stood, then spun her left arm in a windmill motion. Bucky groaned beside Gianna.

"Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes" Steve called out with confidence.

"Got it in one," Natasha acknowledged, winking at Steve.

As the game progressed, the wine flowed freely, and the pie disappeared piece by piece. Gianna leaned back against Bucky on the couch, fighting the sleep that kept creeping up on her. As much as she wanted to keep this perfect day going, they hadn’t been getting much sleep lately and it was catching up to her. She yawned, stifling it with her hand so no one would notice and suggest wrapping it up.

When it was Bucky's turn, the group hushed in anticipation. He picked a word, studied it for a moment, and then began. With a sweep of his metal arm, he mimicked a shield, then pointed dramatically at Steve. The room burst into exclamation

"Captain America! Uh, Steve Rogers! The man with the plan!" Peter exclaimed, pointing at Steve.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a little too easy, Buck."

Bucky shrugged. "Sometimes you've got to go with the classics."

Eventually, Tony suggested calling it a night, seeing as half the team was fighting to keep their eyes open and the game wasn’t exactly a challenge to begin with. Bucky gently roused Gianna from where she’d began to doze off on his shoulder. With sleepy embraces and a few final “Happy Thanksgiving”’s, everyone strode off to their separate rooms. 

“What do you say we actually get some sleep tonight?” Bucky kissed Gianna’s head as he held the door to his bedroom open to her. She whined, despite knowing she’d be asleep within seconds of laying down. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He grinned. “I didn’t say anything about tomorrow morning.”

[thumpersbestie]

reblog this to remind the person you reblogged it from that theyre loved

[thumpersbestie]

update + chapter list xo

Going Under

hiiiiii thanks for the love so far! I can’t believe we’re over 20 chapters. I have so many ideas for the story, so I don’t see it ending anytime soon!

NOTE: I went back in and added soundtracks to all (yes, all twenty) the existing chapters, I clearly love an immersive experience so pls feel free to enjoy those as well :)

here’s the aesthetic that plays in my brain while i’m writing ✨

existing chapters:

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty one

chapter twenty two

chapter twenty three

chapter twenty four

chapter twenty five

chapter twenty six

chapter twenty seven

[thumpersbestie]

😫i just devoured all 27 amazing chapters in 3ish hours this fic is so good

Going Under Ch. 27

summary: the team has had enough of the lovebirds so they take a little getaway back to the city!

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: About You - the 1975

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: okay OKAY this is big, I'm so sorry for the delay! for a while I was getting multiple chapters up in a week and it's taken me like two weeks to finish this one! partly because I wanted to let the last one simmer and didn't know how to follow it up - partly because life was crazy! I had a birthday and was off doing who knows what, but I'm BACK! thanks for the patience and all the loveeee! enjoy!

chapter list

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“That’s it. I’m moving back to New York.” Sam declared, pushing back from the table. “I’m about to stab myself in the ears.” 

“Oh come on, it’s not…horrible.” Steve looked at him apologetically as the sound of a headboard against a wall interrupted him mid-sentence. 

A collective groan rang out around the table, Natasha dropping her hand onto her hands and Peter sliding his plate away slowly. It had been just over a week since Gianna and Bucky had officially consummated their relationship and the whole compound knew about it. Those unfortunate enough to share a floor with them had it the worst, hearing the evidence of their passion up to three times every day. Bucky hadn’t helped with training in several days, at Steve’s insistence. When two recruits came in early to get warmed up for their training session and found Gianna pressed up against a wall, legs wrapped around the Winter Soldier himself -- they decided the extra sparring wasn’t worth it. It was an unspoken rule to avoid the dock altogether. What was the setting for their first real kiss had since become a favorite lovemaking spot, especially at sunset. 

As much as everyone preferred not to hear the chorus of moans during breakfast, not one person was unhappy about their relationship. 

If anyone had experienced more than a lifetime’s worth of pain, it was James Buchanan Barnes. 

If anyone had brought color back to his life, a smile back to his face…it was Gianna Cruz. She’d charmed everyone she’d come into contact with on the compound, everything about her oozing genuine sweetness. 

They deserved this. They deserved each other. 

Everyone else, however, couldn’t help but wonder what the hell they did to deserve this front row ticket to a downright pornographic soundtrack. 

“Mornin.’” 

The team looked up from their discarded plates, snapping out of whatever daydream they were using to escape reality. Bucky strode towards them, tugging a shirt down over his stomach. His gray sweatpants didn’t leave much to the imagination, especially with the recent excitement not fully out of his system. 

“Sleep well, princess?” Sam called from his position leaning against the counter. Bucky narrowed his eyes, regarding him as though deciding if he wanted to growl something back. He settled on something more peaceful. 

“Fine.” 

“Funny, because I could have sworn I heard you up around 2am.” Nat smirked. 

“Now that you mention it,” Wanda pretended to scratch her head in confusion. “I think I heard that too. Or was it 5am?”

“You guys can joke all you want, but I have the room right below them. I might actually need therapy.” Peter deadpanned. 

Uncharacteristically quiet amidst the team’s teasing, Bucky poured himself a mug of black coffee and leaned against the counter across from Sam. He sipped the hot drink, looking mildly amused. 

“Isn’t this the part where you tell us to shut the hell up or you’ll chokeslam someone out a window?” Sam cocked his head. 

“Something tells me he did enough choking last night.” Nat’s smirk only grew. 

A half smile played across his face, stubble growing longer than usual from his lack of shaving over the past few days. He said nothing, sipping his coffee again. 

“Well? Anything to say for yourself there, Barnes?” 

“You guys sound bitter.” He grinned. “You all need to get laid.” 

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Gianna’s POV

“Hurry back!” I called from the tangled mess of comforter and sheets, admiring the view of Bucky’s lower back as he disappeared through the door, still pulling his shirt down. My stomach growled. I’d been utterly ravenous lately. Something about sleeping with a super soldier, you’re gonna burn a lot of calories. Thank God my bedroom was close to the kitchen. 

Our routine for the past week had been pretty simple. Eat, sleep…fuck. 

Well, it wasn’t always fucking. Sometimes it was sweet, gentle, soft. Something that could only be considered making love. Other times…

“Bucky…” I giggled as his hand slid up my shirt in the dark, empty training room. 

“It’s okay, we’re so early. Sessions don’t start for another hour.” He grinned, gripping my waist and lifting me up. I couldn’t help the little squeal that escaped me. His hair was still slightly sweaty from his morning run, the smell of him almost intoxicating. 

“If you say so, Sarge.” We walked backwards as he kissed me, holding me up as if I was weightless. I wrapped my legs around him, wanting to be as close as possible every single second of every single day. When my back gently hit the wall, I felt cold metal fingers slide underneath my skirt, searching for panties to pull to the side. 

I wasn’t wearing any. 

Bucky groaned into my open mouth, fumbling with his own waistband instead. In a flurry of sweaty kisses and desperate grips, he was inside me. Right there, up against the padded training room wall. I cried out, biting my lip to keep quiet as our sounds echoed through the empty room. 

My fingers tangled in his damp hair, my head falling back as he kissed my neck, my collarbone. I was putty in his hands. He was so strong. So steady. He held me up with one hand, the other cupping my face as I moaned. He never broke his steady, desperate pace of thrusts into me. 

It sounded like somewhere far away where a door opened and someone sucked in a sharp breath. I was somewhere between utter bliss and intense pleasure and quite honestly didn’t give a shit who saw. When the door slammed behind whoever it was as they fled, I laughed into our kiss until my laughter was drowned by the peak of pleasure he always made sure to give me. 

“Miss me?” Bucky breezed back through the door, two steaming mugs in his hands. He handed one to me as he slid back into bed with me. 

“Always,” I sipped the coffee, not caring that it was bitter and black. I just needed something to stop the growling in my stomach. “Were they mad?”

He grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Come on, Buck,” I elbowed him. “It’s been over a week since we’ve been at breakfast, or any meal…I feel bad.” 

“Want me to make you feel good instead?”

“Bucky Barnes!” I gasped in mock offense, ignoring the unironic flutters in my stomach. 

“Don’t worry about them.” He stroked a strand of my undoubtedly messy hair behind my ear. “Besides, they won’t have to worry about it for a few days.”

“Hmm, and why is that?” 

“I thought we could go up to the Tower for a few days. Just us. It’s not like they’re going to miss me in training anyways, clearly they can get on just fine.” Bucky sipped his coffee. “It’s been a while since we’ve been in the city, and we haven’t really ever been…alone. The tower will be empty for a few days. I figured, I mean if everyone wanted, I thought they could fly out for Thanksgiving later this week. There’s a great view of the parade from the balcony and I thought -”

“Yes.” I couldn’t help cutting him off. He over-explained when he was nervous and as adorable as it was, I couldn’t wait a second longer to tell him how much I loved his idea. “James Buchanan Barnes, that sounds completely and utterly perfect.” 

He smiled, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I was hoping you’d say that. We leave in an hour.” 

_________________________________________________

The Quintet sailed through the night sky, its sleek form navigating the clouds effortlessly. Seated in the co-pilot's chair, Gianna watched the blur of terrain below, marveling at the view as Bucky guided the aircraft towards New York.

"You know, you're pretty hot as a pilot." she remarked with a grin.

He grinned, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "This is one of the more difficult flights I’ve had."

“Really? Why?” Her brows furrowed. 

“Because I need to keep my eyes on the sky, but all I want to do is look at the girl in the seat next to me.” 

Gianna's fingers traced the edge of the console as she blushed. Her gaze rose to the miles of red and orange forest that stretched out before them, soaking in the beauty that was fall in the Northeast. 

"So, smooth talker, what's the plan for our little New York adventure?" she inquired.

"I figured we'd keep it simple. A stroll through Central Park, see the leaves before they fall. Maybe get dressed up in honor of our first dinner outside the bedroom in eight days. And, of course, a visit to that coffee shop you like so much."

Eyes crinkled in adoration, she responded, "You remembered."

"There’s nothing about you I want to forget." He removed his hand briefly from the control panel to squeeze her knee.

"You're smooth, Barnes." She grinned, hugging her knees to her chest in the bucket seat. “But I never said I was ready to stop eating all of our meals in the bedroom.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning. “As you wish.” 

As they talked, the Quintet flew past the blur of colored below, emerging towards the industrial hues of the city. Bucky guided them through the familiar skyline towards the impossible to miss Avengers’ Tower. Gianna watched the buildings fly by beneath them, fully at ease whenever she was with him. As they descended onto the landing platform that was nearly in the clouds itself, she couldn’t help but feel like the city had never been this colorful in all the years she’d lived here alone. 

_________________________________________________

The soft glow of the city's night seeped through the curtains, casting a muted radiance in the room. Almost the entire day had been a blur, with their bags dropped on the ground within seconds of the elevator doors closing behind them. They’d collapsed to the ground in a mess of kisses and hands and laughter. 

Lovemaking. 

After dozing off on the criminally soft carpet, they’d settled into Bucky’s room. Somehow, after offering to pour them some wine, Gianna found herself bent over the bar where she had drunkenly kissed him a few months prior. 

Fucking. 

After a long, steamy shower, they’d decided it was best for them to go out. Get out of the house, if only to preserve their bodies from the ravenous desires that didn’t seem to be slowing down. 

Finally, Gianna emerged from the bedroom, fastening her second earring. She was adorned in a dress that flowed around her, a dark green that pulled a sparkle from her eyes. Standing up from the barstool where he waited for her, Bucky let out a low whistle.

"Wow," he remarked, offering a half-smile. “You look…wow.”

Gianna grinned, a hint of blush coloring her cheeks. "Has it been that long since I brushed my hair?"

He extended his arm. "Shall we?"

She chuckled, slipping her arm through his. "Lead the way, kind sir."

The stepped into the elevator and Gianna didn’t hide her gaze as it raked over him. A simple black dress shirt with black slacks, hugging him in all the right places. As much as she loved him with bedhead, he looked so damn handsome with his hair tucked behind his ears. As they reached the bottom, she noticed something different – one of Tony's vintage convertible sports cars gleaming in the front circle drive.

"Is this...?" she began, eyes wide.

Bucky nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "A classy ride for a classy lady."

Gianna laughed, genuine surprise lighting up her features. "I…wow. I didn’t expect this.”

"I’m full of surprises," he replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he opened the passenger door for her. 

As they settled into the plush leather seats of the car, Bucky turned the key, and the engine purred to life. They glided through the city streets, the wind tousling Gianna's hair. It was warm for November in New York, but the breeze gave her a chill nonetheless. 

"So why the car tonight?" she asked, watching the city lights streak by.

Bucky glanced at her, a playful grin forming. "I thought it would be good to remind ourselves that we can have a normal night out. No security, no fanfare. Just two people enjoying each other's company."

Gianna smiled, the simplicity of the sentiment resonating with her. "Normal sounds nice."

"Besides," he added, a hint of mischief in his eyes, "I don’t think you need security considering the company you’re in."

She laughed, leaning back against the seat. "True, although I’m more concerned about fangirls coming after you than me these days."

Bucky steered them into the valet circle in front of one of Gianna's favorite restaurants, an Italian place on the edge of town. A soft Frank Sinatra song greeted them as they parked, and he offered Gianna his arm once more as he helped her from the vehicle.

"Ready for a calm, normal night out?" he asked, his gaze steady.

"As long as the night in afterwards is anything but," she replied, her sultry smile a direct contrast to the sweetness of her face. She could have sworn she heard a low growl escape his lips as he held the door open for her. 

_________________________________________________

The soft hum of conversation and the clink of cutlery against fine china surrounded them as they enjoyed the cozy ambiance of the intimate Italian restaurant. Candlelight flickered, casting warm shadows on the walls as they savored the last bites of their meal.

As the server cleared their plates, Bucky took a sip of his wine, eyes never leaving Gianna. "You know, you're even more enchanting under this light."

Gianna grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Barnes."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "I don't need flattery. Maybe just a bit more wine."

She lifted her wine glass in a mock toast before downing the rest of her glass, never breaking eye contact.

Their playful banter melted into a comfortable silence as they browsed the dessert menu. The restaurant's atmosphere, the classic love songs softly playing over the speakers, the warmth in Gianna’s stomach from the wine…all of it yielded to a moment that seemed to suspend in time.

Bucky broke the quiet, his tone soft but sincere. "I…I never thought I'd find someone who could pull me out of the shadows. Gianna…you saved me in ways I didn't know I needed saving."

Gianna reached across the table, her fingers finding his. "And you, Bucky Barnes, have saved me so many times I lost count. You saved me from people, from circumstances. But even more than that…you saved me from feeling alone in this world. I've traveled to so many places, performed in front of countless crowds, but it always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Until you." She squeezed his hand. 

Their gazes held, a silent acknowledgment of the confessions they’d both laid bare. The restaurant's soundtrack of old-school ballads seemed to underscore the emotions in the air.

Bucky stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I thought I could feel this way. After everything. I didn’t think I could feel so...alive." He shook his head, looking down. “I’m sorry, I’m not as good with words as you.”

Gianna's eyes softened, and she smiled. "Funny, I was thinking the exact opposite. You make me feel alive, too.” 

He raised his glass with the hand not holding hers. “To feeling alive.” Their glasses clinked, the last of their wine not holding a candle to the intoxication from the buzz between them.

_________________________________________________

The car purred to a stop in front of the Avengers' Tower, its vintage frame a testament to another time. It was perfect for her forties’ man, with all his charm, Gianna thought as she leaned comfortably against Bucky's shoulder in the seat. The afterglow of their dinner date still lingered as they pulled to the front circle drive. The familiar sight of a small crowd greeted them. Fans, recognizably holding posters and notebooks, mingled with the ever-present paparazzi, their cameras flashing like strobe lights. Gianna shared a glance with Bucky, her expressive eyes conveying a mix of humor and a hint of apprehension.

Bucky extended his arm to Gianna as they stepped out of the car, a subtle nod of solidarity exchanged between them. To their astonishment, the clamor for autographs and attention was almost evenly divided between the pop star and the previously polarizing Winter Soldier.

A group of young girls, their eyes wide with admiration, eagerly held out notebooks and printed photos for Bucky to sign. Gianna, ever the good sport, grinned at the irony of the situation. Just as she predicted, with his rugged charm and a hint of vulnerability, Bucky was attracting just as much attention from the fans as she was. He paused, looking at her apprehensively. Gianna nodded in encouragement, releasing his arm so he could sign the various things being thrust out to him.

The paparazzi, relentless in their pursuit of a scoop, bombarded them with questions. Gianna, accustomed to the circus of public life, fielded inquiries with her signature grace and media training. "Oh, you know, just enjoying a night out in the city." She flashed her dazzling smile, patiently waiting for Bucky to finish.

Bucky, a stoic figure in the midst of the whirlwind, focused on signing autographs. The paparazzi, sensing an opportunity for a more intimate story, decided to push their luck.

"Sergeant Barnes, any truth to the rumors that you and Gianna Cruz are more than just coworkers?"

Bucky, without missing a beat, shot a look at Gianna, his blue eyes carrying a hint of playfulness. "Did this look like a business meeting to you?"

A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd, the tension momentarily diffused. Gianna winked at him. "He's the best bodyguard I’ve ever had. Very committed to his job."

The crowd chuckled, appreciating the banter between the unlikely duo. The paparazzi, determined to get a headline, persisted. "But seriously, all those nights on the road, living at the compound…it must make for blurred lines!”

This time, Bucky hesitated for a split second, narrowing his eyes at the personal question. He ignored it and went back to signing for the giddy teenage girls.

"Gianna, over here! How was the date?"

"Is it true you two are a couple?"

"Mr. Barnes, are you falling for the pop star?"

The questions came rapid-fire, but Gianna, well-versed in the art of dodging personal queries, maintained her poise. "Can’t go wrong with a meal at Avanzare’s, I highly recommend the lasagna."

Bucky, however, wasn't as accommodating. As fans clamored for autographs, Bucky's only half of his attention was on them, keeping a close watch on Gianna the entire time. No one dared step closer to her with the intense look in Bucky’s eye challenging them. Gianna, fully at ease, smiled and engaged with the fans.

Then came the question that altered the script. "Bucky Barnes, the Quarterback for the New York Jets recently went on record saying he was, and I quote ‘absolutely in love with Gianna Cruz. Do you have any comments for that?"

Gianna rolled her eyes. Another celebrity she’d never met, name dropping her on a late night show in hopes of going viral. An old, tired PR trick. Bucky, distracted from the question by his split focus on the fans and Gianna’s safety, spoke candidly. 

“Yeah, he can join the club.”

The revelation hung in the air, a collective gasp from the crowd. Bucky, realizing what he had admitted, turned to Gianna. She stood there, a mixture of surprise and giddiness on her face, mirrored by the expressions of the onlookers.

"I..." Bucky spoke slowly. “I am so…unbelievably, uncontrollably, stupidly, insanely in love with her.” 

His words were hanging in the night air as he blindly tossed the sharpie he was holding back to a fan and stepped to Gianna. She was beaming so widely her cheeks hurt. 

“It’s about time you said so.” She spoke softly. “Here I’ve been, hopelessly in love since the first week of tour.” He looked down at her, running his fingers down the back of her arms. Goosebumps erupted in their wake. 

“I’m sorry. I love you. I’m in love with you. I don’t care if the whole goddamn world knows it.” 

In a flash, he scooped Gianna up, spun her around and kissed her. Without setting her down or breaking the kiss, Bucky walked into the front doors of Stark Tower, the facial recognition somehow allowing them in despite their faces being pressed together. 

The paparazzi seized the moment, their cameras clicking furiously. The fans, witnessing a real-life drama unfold, erupted into applause. The reporter who’d asked the question blinked, still processing what had happened. 

"Well, that's a headline I didn't see coming."