#like I just swallowed a gold star and I’m about to fuck shit up in a good way

[mxltifxnd0m]

𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Summary: He still loves you, but you’ve already moved on without him.

Pairings: past!Tom Holland x fem!Reader (implied famous reader)

Word count: 2K+

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Warnings: a smidge of fluff, angst, some cursing, a sad ending

Flashbacks will be in italics

A/N: I’m back for now, due to Conan’s new album releasing, which has sparked some inspiration and motivation for me to write this angsty one-shot. Also, if you guys guessed who her new boyfriend was since I dropped a couple of hints, you get a gold star! (i might start writing for him but I’m still on the fence about it lol) 

Also. thank you to the love of my life @songofpatrochilless for beta reading for me and i love you a lot <3

𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Lyrics used: “I can't be your friend, can't be your lover

Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love

With somebody other than me”

“I wish that you would stay in my memories”

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

He shouldn’t be here. He knows that, but here he is on your doorstep, hesitating to knock on the door. The only reason he hasn’t knocked on your door is that his mind is drowning in memories of the two of you together, and of the last time, he saw you standing at this same doorway. 

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

11 months ago

“I can’t keep doing this anymore.” You tell Tom wearily. 

“Doing what?” He asks you exasperatedly. You gesture between the two of you, standing across from him, chest heaving from the screaming match that just occurred.

“This, Tom! The constant arguments we’ve been having lately, you going out more and more, not telling me where or who you’re going out with, and not coming back until 3 am,” you sigh tiredly, massaging your temples to try to relieve some of the stress and frustration you feel, “I feel more like a roommate that you sleep with than an actual girlfriend.” 

“You are my girlfriend,” Tom says weakly. “ Well, it sure doesn’t feel that way, Thomas.” Tom winces at the mention of his full name, only ever used in anger, just like now. 

“Why can’t you tell me what’s going on with you Tom, something is going on, and you won’t let me in.” Tom clenches his jaw and looks away from your eyes. How is he supposed to tell you that he cheated on you? He does love you, he loves you with all of his heart, but god he couldn’t resist her. 

“I’m fine.” He grits out. 

“See now that’s just bullshit!” You exclaim, fed up with him being so closed off when all you want him to do is open up and just talk to you. 

“All I want for you to do is just talk to me, Tom.” The words end in a whisper, the frustration seeping out and turning into heartbroken desperation.

Your voice softer than earlier. 

Tom just stares at you, debating whether or not he should tell you the truth or not. You stare right back at him, you can almost see the gears working in his head, and there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher. 

Guilt?

What was he guilty about?

What did he do?

After a few moments of silence, Tom clears his throat, and you look at him expectantly.

“I umm, I fucked up and I-. shit, I cheated on you.” Tom blurts out. He winces at how blunt his response was and studies your face at you for any changes in emotion. 

You just stood there, your face not showing any emotions you may be feeling right now, but you felt your heart crack and shatter. Tom can see your eyes start to water and he instinctively reaches out to you to try to comfort you. You step back and he falters. You rub your face in hopes you don’t start crying and wrap your arms around yourself as a form of comfort. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Oh.” You look down at your feet, suddenly interested in the rug you’re standing on.

“That’s all you’re going to say, ‘Oh?’ Tom asks you. “Well, what do you want me to say when your boyfriend tells you that they cheated on you!” You raise your voice as you finish your sentence. 

Tom just stays silent, looking around the apartment, avoiding your eyes. You say something so quietly that Tom barely heard it. 

“What did you just say?” 

“I’m done.” You say louder. 

“You’re done? With what?” Tom asks stupidly. 

“I’m done with you, the fighting, and this relationship.”

“Wait no, babe, let's talk about this.” Tom starts to sputter out excuses but you just raise your hand to cut him off. 

“No Tom, I thought we could work this out, the arguments, and whatnot. I trusted you fully and even confided in you that in the past this has happened to me before. The funny thing is that you promised me that you weren’t like the others I dated, but I guess we were both wrong.” You were so close to breaking down in front of Tom but you wanted to wait until he left.

Before he could get a word out, you interrupt him, “I hope she was worth our relationship Tom. But get out and stay out.” 

And he did. 

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

You hear faint knocks on your door. You don’t think anything of it and snuggle more into the warm body that’s right next to you. Then you hear the knocks become louder, and you look at your alarm clock on your nightstand to see that it was 2:45 am and groan softly. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” You grumble. Now the hard part was getting out of your boyfriend's grip. You try to ease out of his arms as best you can but you’re unsuccessful and he wakes up. 

“Why are you up m’love?” He asks you while tightening his arms around you. 

“Someone’s knocking on the door and I know you have an early morning so I was going to get it.” You tell Harry. 

He lets go of you, “Come back quick, need your cuddles to keep warm.” You just smile at him and kiss his forehead before going to answer the door. 

At this point, the knocking has become incessant and without checking the peephole, you whip open the door to see the last person you wanted to see at 2:45 in the morning.

There stands Tom Holland, soaking wet from the rain, his brown eyes bloodshot, and you can smell alcohol coming from him. He trails his eyes up and down your body, he sees you’re wearing fluffy socks, some shorts that get hidden by the oversized hoodie you’re wearing, and “pleasing” is written across the hoodie, which sounds familiar to Tom.

Shocked, you ask him why he’s at your doorstep. 

“I don’t know.” He slurs out. 

Sighing, you gesture for him to come inside and close the door behind you. You rest your forehead on the door, the cool temperature calming you down for the shitshow that is about to happen. 

“I’m going to ask you again, why are you here at 3 in the morning?” 

He just shrugs and heads to the kitchen in a drunken stupor. Confused, you follow him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. 

Tom does know why he’s here, he’s missed you a lot. But he wouldn’t admit that to anyone, so he buried himself in his work and went to parties every other night to avoid his feelings about you. The reason he had set off tonight and drank more than he usually does was an article. He read the headline, “Y/N L/N has a new beau?” and saw a picture of you with sunglasses, a hat, and a mask holding a tattooed arm while turning the corner. They hadn’t managed to take a picture of the person you were with, but the fans were able to identify the tattoos belonging to a certain celebrity. 

You realize that Tom isn’t going to say anything, so you debate about throwing him out but you aren’t that cruel, so you just pull a water bottle from the fridge and hand it to him. He accepts it and starts to drink it. 

“I missed you,” Tom says breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you. You don’t say anything which prompts Tom to continue. 

“After we separated, I was a mess and I am still a mess. I buried myself with alcohol and parties to distract from the emptiness that was there and tonight I wasn’t planning on going out but then I saw that article about you and something in me snapped. One thing led to another and I somehow ended up here.” 

You stay silent after his drunken rant, processing his words and letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you going to say something, anything?” Tom pleads.

“What do you want me to say, Tom?” 

“I don’t know,” He admits, “I thought it would have taken longer to move on from you.” 

“So you just showed up at 3 in the morning to confess that you still miss me?” You scoff. 

“No, you don’t get to do that, Tom. I didn’t show up drunk at your apartment every time I saw you out with the person you cheated on me with.” You shake your head in disbelief at Tom.

 “It took me months for me to get over you and trust someone to get into a relationship with.”

“And now you’re here half-drunk in my kitchen just because you were jealous at the fact I had finally moved on. God, I wish that you would stay in my memories.” You seethe out at Tom and he recoils at your words. 

“No, it isn’t like that.” Tom slightly raises his voice. 

“No? Then please explain, Tom. Explain why you thought it was a good idea to cheat on me first and then get jealous when I’m finally happy with someone else other than you!” You yelled, frustration lacing every word.  

“Because I still love you !” Tom shouts. 

You both fall silent at his admission, the only sounds are the labored breathing coming from both you and Tom, and the rain pattering on the windows. You hear a creak in the floorboard and you whip around to see your boyfriend out of bed rubbing his eyes.

“What’s happenin’ here?” He asks tiredly. Tom’s body tenses at the sight of your new boyfriend and his jaw clenched before looking down at his water bottle.

“Shit babe, I forgot you were asleep still.”

“S’fine lovie. Why is he here.” He gestures to Tom with a nod of his head. 

“He decided to pick up the stuff he left here.”

“At 3 am?” Harry questions.

You leave the kitchen and pull your boyfriend into the hallway leading to your shared bedroom. You explained the situation to him. 

“And he just confessed to still loving me and that’s when you came in.” You rubbed your forehead in frustration and Harry grabs your hand from your face, presses a few kisses to it, and rubs circles into it.

“Do you want me to handle it?” He asks you. 

“No, I can do it, just go back to bed and I’ll be there shortly.” 

Harry nods and kisses your forehead, making you slightly melt, and heads back to the bedroom. Tom watches the entire interaction with his jaw tight, squeezing the life out of the water bottle, and filled with jealousy. Turning back into the kitchen you grab the bag that is filled with Tom’s stuff you packed a couple of months ago, and you hand it to him once you reach the kitchen. 

“Look, Tom, you just can’t spring up the fact that you still love me since I don’t feel that way anymore, I can't be your friend, can't be your lover, can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love with somebody other than me.”

Tom is hurt but he just nods in understanding, taking the bag filled with his stuff, you both head to the door. Before he leaves he says something. 

“Can I- umm, could I get one last hug?” He asks you shyly, almost embarrassed.

You soften at his words and wordlessly say yes by opening your arms and wrapping your arms around him. He shoves his face into your neck, breathing it in like he’s trying to commit it to memory. You felt some wetness on your neck but didn’t say anything and let him hug you. After a while, he lets go and sniffles a bit but smiles at you.

“Do you have a ride?” You ask him while opening the door for him. 

“No but I think I’ll be fine, the rain will help me sober up a bit more.” He tells you as he steps out of the apartment 

You just raise an eyebrow at him but nod anyway. Before you close your door, Tom whispers, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye Tom, I wish you well.” You tell him softly before shutting the door completely. 

You rest your head on the door before returning to bed with your boyfriend. 

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #famous!reader #implied famous! reader #memories by conan gray #celebrity x reader #actor x reader #harry x reader #conan gray #peter parker #peter parker x reader #daisy's writing #zendaya #memories song #harry styles x reader #superache conan gray #conan gray superache #conan gray memories

[magalidragon]

summer joys | a Jonerys drabble

Hey look another drabble, lol. I promise I am working on WW, I can’t write the smut when parents are visiting that’s all, so it’s a little slow. Enjoy this drabble! Also I’m using the beautiful sunshine moodboard from @youwerenevermine 🥰😘

Jon Snow hated his fucking life.

He was currently in the tiny, leaking, overly humid bathroom in the back of the surf shop, scrubbing his skin raw after an absolute shithead of a teenager named Joffrey had thrown up on him post-riptide rescue.

And the fucker’s mother had the gall to say she might sue him because her precious baby was coughing up seawater after almost drowning in the Summer Sea. And he’d saved the little shit.

He needed a new job.

This whole part-time beach lifeguard, part-time surf shop, part-time waiter, part-time valet was a full-time shitshow.

Unfortunately his evil aunt decided he didn’t get any of his uncle’s and adoptive father’s estate for college money so here he was saving every penny in the summer instead of actually enjoying it like everyone around him.

He finished removing the last layer of his skin and stepped out, right into his cousin. “You look like death,” she announced. “Take off the rest of shift.”

“I can’t I told your boyfriend I’d cover for him.” He made a face. “Maybe so you two can go fuck off.”

Arya stuck out her tongue. “Fuck you, by the way noise canceling headphones tonight.”

He gagged, pushing by her and up to the counter, the shop blessedly empty. He took a swig of water from

his bottle, leaning down to tuck it under the counter when he heard a soft, accented voice call out.

“Excuse me?”

Jerking up, he didn’t realize how low he actually had been or how deep he was under the counter, because when he stood so fast, the back of his head cracked loudly under the countertop, sending a shot of pain right down his neck.

“Fuck!” he cursed, rubbing the offended spot, blinking away stars.

The woman who had startled him gasped, hands to her mouth. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

He smiled weakly. “No problem.” And he got a good look at why his brain and decided to play off a concussion instead of get pissed. It was because the woman in front of him was a legitimate mermaid.

Her silver hair was bound in a messy series of braids, in a coil tossed over her shoulder, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head. Lavender eyes peered at him, concerned, her elven features creased in concern. She wore a bikini top that shimmered like it was scales, purple and teal and gold. A pair of cutoff shorts and sandy bare feet completed the picture. She was tiny, but there were decent muscles on her little frame.

He swallowed hard. “Uh…I’m fine, sorry about that…how can I help you?”

She gestured to some of the surfboard wax that was sitting behind him on the back counter. "I was wondering if I could borrow some of that for my board?"

"Oh, sure...um, we can do that free." He didn't think they did, but he also didn't care. At this point if they wanted to fire him, go for it. He walked around the counter, swiping the wax, and gestured towards the sawhorses set up outside. "Just here."

"Thanks, appreciate it." She darted out and around the corner, returning with a board that he envied; it was gorgeous, black and red with dragons painted up it. She easily maneuvered the board onto the sawhorses and stepped backwards. "I can do it if you want."

"No problem."

"You seemed busy, I saw you with that kid."

He smiled sheepishly. "Just doing my job."

The woman grinned, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Saving someone's life in the sea and then hvaing his mother scream at you? That's a bit mroe than just doing your job. That's patience."

"I try."

"You know I also saw you at the Salt Shack." She pursed her lips, fighting another smile. She crossed her arms over her chest; he tried to avoid looking, but it was very quick, he would swear on it, before forcing himself to focus on the board. "You were bartending."

"Um, aye, I bartend too."

"So you're a lifeguard..." She began to tick off her fingers. "A bartender, work the surf shop...anything else?"

Jon glanced up, moving from one end of the board towards the other as he rubbed the wax on it. "Uh...I park cars too at the resort. Tuesday and Thursday mornings." He wasn't sure why she was sticking around; he could wax the board and get it back to her faster, but she was standing pretty close now and wasn't really moving, so he had to edge around her to keep waxing the baord.

"Quite busy. Do you have any time for yourself?"

"Some mornings I get out to surf."

Her eyes lit up. "You do? Where?"

"Um..." He bit hs lower lip, narrowing his gaze on her. He pointed the wax cloth towards her. "Yo uknow a surfer doesn't give up the best spots."

The woman laughed; yes, she was definitely a mermaid. It was bubbly, genuine. Definitely not flirting with him. If she were flirting, it would be fake. That's what he'd experienced. "I've been coming to Sunspear my entire life, try me."

He tossed some hair out of his eyes, which had come undone from the messy knot. "Serpent's Cove."

Her lips twitched. "You're the one," she said softly.

He cocked his head. "HUh?" Now he was really confused.

She moved her arms, sticking her thumbs in her back short pockets. Her muscles flexed, abs tight. "You're the one," she repeated. "The one on the white board, with the red eyes. You're always leaving when I'm coming." She arched her brows, leaning towards him, voice soft. "Maybe you should stick around while I'm coming next time."

His face flushed red at the double entendre. Maybe he was reading too much into this. "Uh...I don't..." he stammered.

"Relax," she chuckled. "I won't steal all the good waves." She nodded towards her board. "You keep working that wood, I'll get us some drinks."

Jon almost fainted. He froze, unsure what was happening, and watched her saunter off. He swallowed the dry patch in his throat and turned around, seeing Arya staring at him, her mouth on the ground. "What?” he croaked.

Arya grabbed the nearest item-- a sunscreen bottle-- tossing it at him. "You idiot! She was flirting it up good with you and you didn't even notice! What is wrong with you!? Has all that sun burned up your brain?"

Quite possibly, yes. "I noticed," he mumbled, although to be fair he really wasn't sure. His back stiffened and he bit out, "She was just being nice, so I could wax her board free."

"Whatever Jon. Too much work, not enough play, makes you boring, boring, boring."

But he liked being boring. Boring meant he could work, work, work and shove all that money away so he could pay for school. Living on the beach all summer wasn't his vacation time. He made a face at Arya, who sauntered away, and he returned to waxing the board. He finished before she got back and so he also inspected it for any cracks, spotting one on the end that he decided he'd seal for free too.

He was in the process of doing so when the woman returned, holding two fruity drinks and plastic shopping bag over her wrist, the smell of the beach fries from Davos's filling his nostrils. "I got some snacks," she announced and handed him the drink, her fingers brushing against his. Another smile came his way. "I see you're fixing the baord too. Thank you."

"You won't be able to use it for a few hours while it dries."

"No problem," she chirped, hopping easily onto the counter and opening up the fries. She chomped on a few and smiled around them. "My name is Dany, by the way."

"Uh...Jon. I'm Jon."

"I know, I heard your sister say so."

"Cousin," he mumbled, not that it mattered. He reached under the counter for his wallet, hidden in the back. "What do I owe you..."

"No charge, consider it payment for waxing and resealing the board." She tossed her braid over her shoulder and cocked her head. "So are you sure you don't get time off during summer? If you're at Serpent's Cove in the morning, we can meet there. You can show me your moves." She popped another fry into her mouth and wiggled her brows. "Or maybe we can go together."

Flirting, he thought. That's what this was. He really, truly fucking sucked. And gods did he hate his life if he still hadn't figured this out and he was already twenty-three. He bit his bottom lip hard, drawing blood and nodded. Just do it. “We can go together."

"After dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Sure, we'll get dinner and then tomorrow morning we'll go together to surf." Dany jumped down from the counter and took his hand, reaching for a pen on the counter and scribbled her number on his inner arm. She patted it and smiled up. "My number. If you're working tonight, I'll see you there. You can get me a drink."

The boss moves on this girl, he thought, staring dumbly. He swallowed hard again, drawing up on all his confidence-- sometimes he really didn't have much and definitely getting barfed on today drained that well already-- to put his hands on his hips and say: "I'm not working tonight, so I'll take you to dinner."

A smile flirted on her lips. "How about you come to my place? I'll make dinner."

He smiled; she was actually making this seem easier. "Oh?"

"Oh. It will be quite easy, you see, because well..." She took his arm again and wrote out her address. She picked up her board and winked at him. "See you there."

Jon gaped at the address-- it was right on Serpent's Cove. He'd been surfing in her backyard and didn't even know it, this entire time. He gazed over his shoulder at her back, just in time to see her throw a wide grin over her shoulder and wave, before running towards the ocean, kicking up sand and shining like a silver light, the sunshine bouncing off her at every angle.

That evening, with dinner abandoned in the bungalow behind them, and Dany humming contentedly in his arms as he kissed down her neck, the two of them twisted around each other on a sandy blanket near the shore, a glorious sunset somewhere in the distance, Jon decided he actually didn’t hate his life at all.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #erika’s gorgeous moodboards! #jonerys drabble

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

[goldenissues]

bad girl-georgenotfound x reader

summary- you’re a role model student, but recently, you’ve been misbehaving. teacher! george takes things into his own hands and puts you in his place

warnings/notes- smut, swearing, violence?, female receiving, insults

high achiever. that’s what you were. with your kind smiles as you pass by, your top grades, and anything anyone could wish for. you were pretty much always presentable, pretty much always on time, pretty much organised and pretty much pretty. and on the rare days when you were late or forgot a piece of homework, nobody would batt an eye, you were too reliable to worry.

however, it might’ve been this week when people found a notable change in your behaviour. perhaps it was the scowl plastered on your face, the bumping into people- which was very much on purpose- or the changes in things that came out of your mouth.

though, you still did what you did before, it felt threatening to people. you still gave your smiles (even though they made people uneasy when you did now), and you looked presentable, that hasn’t changed.

“y/n, you’re late,” you heard a stern voice behind you as you crept into class. rolling your eyes, you turned to face the taller male-mr.notfound. “good morning sir, how are you? great! right now i’ve got to-“ a smile laid on your face as you sarcastically greeted the older.

“y/n” he sighed, running a veiny hand through his fluffy hair, making the not already perfect strands of hair even messier, “you were a perfect student before; high grades, modal behaviour, neat organisation. what happened?”

you fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a bigger smile. you hated hearing those words, it’s always ‘what happened?’, “nothings happened, sir. i’m not sure what you’re taking about,”

his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, hesitant to speak for a minute or two before replying with a simple, “whatever y/n, get to your seat, copy what’s in the board,”

>>

you strutted out of class, on your way to the lunch queue when you got called midway from a familiar voice. “y/n,” you stopped in your tracks and huffed as you looked to the direction of the voice- mr. notfound. looking up with innocent eyes, “yes sir? is there something bothering you?” he gave a disappointed sigh, punching the bridge of his nose, “you know what’s wrong. it’s a shame, you’re well behaved in everything, yet you can’t make sure your skirt isn’t so high,”

you crossed your arms, leaning all your weight onto one hip as you gave him the most annoyed look you could muster, “i don’t see why it bothers you so much, sir,” he raised a brow. you’ve never had a good view of mr. not found, especially because of the communication between you and him.

“unroll your skirt,” you glared at him, clearly annoyed at the interaction. still glaring at him, you rolled it up once higher. watching as his breath slightly hitched in his throat, he made eye contact with you again, his eyes holding an emotions you couldn’t quite uncover. “i’ve told you once and i’ll tell you again, unroll your skirt,” you brought a finger to your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “hm.. no”

“you’re such a bad girl..” mr. notfound muttered, continuing to look you up and down, it sent butterflies to your stomach. however you quickly got back into the right mind, ‘he’s your teacher y/n’, you thought.

“if i see you later with your skirt still so high, it’s going to be a punishment,” you huffed and carried on walking down the corridor, giving him no response.

perhaps you had simply forgot what he said. oh honestly, did it really matter that much? it was only a skirt length, it wasn’t your fault if people found it distracting, i mean it’s not your fault your so attractive. hah.

gliding your finger along the lockers as you headed to the changing rooms. bag trailing across the floor by the way you lazily wrapped your fingers around the strap. you were late to cheerleading again. wow, well done y/n, gold star! eh, you couldn’t care less. as you carelessly strutted down the corridor you unknowingly muttered about how senseless mr. notfound was, “i mean it’s not my fault i’m so hot-“

“tsk tsk, y/n l/n, what a bad little girl,” you stopped in your tracks from pure startles, shooting your head up to the voice, mr. notfound. no matter the effort you made to cover it, mr. notfound truly did frighten you, and the same could go for mr. wastaken. perhaps it was that they made you feel so small and intimidated that you tried to switch it, protesting to their orders.

“what are you doing here so late,” he asked, leaning against the wall with the poster that read “believe in yourself’. you swallowed your nerves in your throat you didn’t even know were there, “i was heading to cheer sir,”

the brunette looked you up and down, staring at your skirt and legs, before looking up to you with a disappointed sigh, “i see you haven’t fixed your skirt, what do you think mr. wastaken will think about this,”

you gulped, internally panicking and unsure of how to reply, “i’m not sure what you’re taking about sir,” you batted innocent eyes, smiling politely up at him. tutting, he leant back of the wall, rubbing his temple in irritation, “you’re so disobedient. i’m afraid you won’t be attending cheer today,”

suddenly, you furrowed your brows, “what? huh?” he grinned and walked closer towards you, close enough to hear his breathing, “you’ve got a detention,” his husky voice spoke into your ear. god his voice made your face as red as a cherry.

“why?” there wasn’t really a point in asking why, you had been gone downhill for the last few weeks: not following orders, turning up late to lessons, being rude and sarcastic. “come on,” mr. not found started walking down the hall, you following close behind.

you were angry, you didn’t like school, but the only things keeping you going was cheerleading, no matter the times that you pretend to hate it. school is shit, you hate it and everything about it: the rules, the students, the lessons, the food, the teachers -well, mr. notfound and mr.wastaken certainly didn’t bat your eye.

yeah you hated them, how they were constantly telling you off, but god they were hot. sometimes you so desperately want them to bend you over their desks and fuck you till you can’t remember your own name.

anyways, you were in a bad mood, you had been looking forward to cheer (even though you were running late) and mr. notfound had to ruin it. huffing and puffing, you glared at any walking students. one girl walked past, looking so fucking happy, and you decided this was the right time to ruin her mood just like yours has been ruined. stopping in your tracks as she stopped at her locker, you yelled at her, “that skirt is so fucking ugly makes me want to puke, are you thick in the head or what?”

“y/n.” the man called sternly, giving you a look to stop. well, that look turned to annoyance once you flipped him off. taking a step closer to the girl who already looked upset, “aw, you gonna cry?” you sarcastically asked, giving a fake look of aw, “pathetic little bitch,”

“y/n, stop it. come over-“ “shut the fuck up sir, i’m not going to your stupid little detention,” turning to glare at him, gritting your teeth, only to earn a look of amusement. “oh so you find this funny? bitch,”

mr.notfound gave you a long, hard stare -intimidatingly long, before striding beside the girl and bending down slightly to her eye level. you watched with a weird feeling coursing through you as him and the girl talked about something, the girls face turning red as a tomato. it wasn’t a surprise really- almost every girl in this school had a crush on him, and well, you couldn’t say anything bad as you were one of those girls.

it wasn’t your fault when you swung at her after she gave you a cocky smirk. she grabbed her cheek, gasping dramatically, before forcing tears out of her eyes. “you little bitch!” you screamed, hitting her again. you didn’t stop trying after sir picked you up with force and pulled you away further down the corridors.

as he frustratedly headed to his office, you couldn’t help but think about how it felt being carried by him. yeah you had done something bad, but god this felt good.

“why can’t you just behave?” he muttered through gritted teeth. you didn’t answer, didn’t think it was your time to talk, didn’t think it was the right moment to give him a bitchy answer. “you were such a good girl before, now you’re punching people as they walk by,”

“i’m sorry sir,” you replied as he sat you down on his desk, walking over to his cupboard. you really were sorry, you didn’t know what had gotten into you recently. though you were sorry, you didn’t regret anything.

as you watched sir rummage through his cupboard, eyebrows furrowed, a trickling down your lower face had become incredibly noticeable. brushing your hand over your nose, you were met with blood -fuck, a nose bleed. it was probably when the girl swung back, but you didn’t notice it. mr. notfound walked over to you with a box of tissues in his hand. leaning in, he grabbed your chin and held tightly as he brushed the soft tissues over the blood. something about this sent a flutter between your legs; perhaps it was his concentrated face mixed with anger, or maybe it was the way he handled you, the way he touched you.

“you’ve been naughty,” he breathed out. breath so close to my neck that it sent butterflies to my stomach, “gonna have to punish you,” the look on his face told you he wasn’t kidding, and the way he didn’t move away from you to put the tissues in the bin, just throwing them into it from where he was.

silence is what surrounded the room, your faces inches away from each other, hungry looks on both. the only thing that broke the silence through time was the breathing that became heavier. and as he smashed his lips onto yours, you kissed back. it was hot, needy, it felt perfect. the messy movement of his lips on yours left you whining in his mouth.

“fuck, you don’t realise what you do to me,” he pulled away slightly, still practically sharing breath. you felt his hand land on your thigh, before feeling him rub it in a circular motion with his thumb. he kissed you again, open mouth, if it was anyone but him you would’ve been grossed out, but god he made this so hot.

you couldn’t imagine what someone would think if they walked in whilst you were messily making out, his hand on your chin grasping tightly with the other massaging the skin on your thigh. he pulled away again, kissing at your face, “the way you prance around in this tiny skirt, you make me so horny, i bet you make everyone else feel like this as well,”

you shook your head, “no sir, only for you, all for you,” as he kissed and sucked at your neck, you felt his smirk plastered on his face against your skin.

you moaned as he sucked at a certain piece of skin, “can’t keep quiet, want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are?” you wasn’t sure how to respond, if you were to say no you would be lying. you wanted people to hear how you were making out with your teacher, you wanted to make the girls jealous. so, all you could do was timidly look away from his gaze.

you gasped as you felt a strong hand grab your black tie and yank it towards him, snapping you to look in his eyes, “look at me when i’m talking to you,” george gravely quipped, glaring at you.

out of nowhere, you felt the sudden urge to be a brat again, not the smartest idea but it would be interesting, “i don’t want to look at you,” you snarked back, watching as his eye brows furrowed and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. hand still tight on your tie, forcing you to painfully look up from the height and the difference of you sitting and him standing over you. “stand up.” he demanded

“no.” suddenly, you felt a harsh slap to your cheek, before your face was pulled up to be inches away from his,

“fucking stand up brat,” his tone was deep and husky, it awoken something inside you. but, being the stubborn person you are, you shook your head. he yanked you up by your waist, then slammed you against the nearest wall.

his warmth engulfed you as he so quickly slammed his lips back onto yours, spreading through you like an infectious disease, however, this disease would be one you want to never leave. he pulled you closer to him from your waist, leaning burning fingerprints every inch his hands touched.

this kiss was not much different from the ones just before, but for some strange reason, this one felt more forceful, daring, one that got you more worked up. as he attached his lips to your neck, quickly exploring more and more of your body, you were well aware you were not leaving that room without bruises. despite being as aware of it as can be, you couldn’t help but want to carry on being bratty.

and as the buttons to your shirt came undone annoyingly slow, you became more and more impatient. “hurry up, if you can’t teach well atleast be able to make me feel good,”

he pulled away, still close enough you could feel every exhale, so close you watched his jaw clench and face so desperately trying not to show just how angry he was right now. it was peculiar that you still persisted to stay bitchy, there really was no need for you to act like this, and you both were fully aware, but you wanted to rile him up, wanted him to know you don’t give up easily, wanted him to earn this from you. in hindsight, that was probably it the brightest idea and you you became aware of that the longer he started into your eyes.

“oh i’ll make you feel good,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “and you’ll fucking like it, so don’t tell me to hurry up,”

with that, he pulled your shirt off, hands immediately going to your back, desperately fiddling with the clasp off your bra as you innocently looked up at him, acting like you weren’t just pissing him off, “your so fucking annoying,” he murmured, the clasp loosening as he pulled the fabric down your arms, leaning you bare chested.

“your acting like i don’t turn you on just by walking around school sir,” you retorted, as he rolled one of your nipples through his long fingers, smiling sweetly whilst he scoffed, however mesmerised by how beautiful you looked.

“remember what you’re saying whilst you’re begging to cum and i say no,” he whispered into your ear, before moving his mouth to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and both of you noticed the goosebumps that covered your skin in that few seconds.

right as you were about spit another retort, syllables falling down your throat and being replaced with a choked moan as you felt his hands sneak their way under your short skirt that pretty much started this whole thing.

gripping your thighs, taking in exactly how the skin felt with his hands over them. you felt your heart almost beat out of your stomach as you felt a hand get closer to your leaking heat, barely covered by your damp panties. “and with how your acting your probably not wet right now. isnt that right?”

and you couldn’t mange to say a word as you felt his middle finger run over your panties, barely ghosting your clit, leaving you wanting more contact. his pointer finger caught onto the side of the fabric, pushing it aside, leaving just enough space for his middle finger to feel the juices that so guilty poured out of you. his touch felt so cold compared to your heat, leaving you so embarrassed as he coats his finger in you before slowly pulling away, catching your eyes with a smug smirk whilst doing so.

“oh? oops,” he chuckled, “looks like i was wrong,”

without a second to respond, his fingers shoved themselves inside you, leaving you whimpering from sudden pleasure. you almost collapsed if it wasn’t for him holding your waist with one hand as he roughly pumped them in and out of you, leaving lewd noises to spill out of your lips. drops of wetness spill down your thighs, he still persistently works his magic through your wet underwear, thumb sneaking to rub tight circles on your clit. and you couldn’t stop yourself as a moan left your red lips, music to his ears, and his smug smile grew bigger. you can’t help letting out noises when he made you feel this good, but of course, you couldn’t let him know that, couldn’t let him know that he made you feel heavenly. everytime he pumped his fingers, everytime they subtly brushed over your clit, it left you twitching.

y

s-sir, sir fuck! please i’m-!” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before his fingers ripped out of you, the pleasure disappearing into thin air, taken from you. as you stare at him, your hands having a mind of their own, moving down to your heat out of instinct, but being grabbed and pinned above your head before you could reward yourself with pleasure.

“don’t you fucking dare. what happened to the brattiness? you come when i give you permission,” both of you are well aware that you’re brattiness has been taken away from you when you don’t reply, just look into his eyes and nod, swallowing your nerves. and that’s when his smirk grew bigger, he loves this.

you watch as he unbuttons his dress shirt, throwing it pulls and he pulls his trousers and boxers down, exposing his throbbing, sizeable cock that sent a pit to your stomach. his eyes catch sight of you as your practically drooling over him, and he does nothing but smirk as your eyes meet.

“get on a desk, all fours, unless you don’t want to be pleasured,” and you comply, pulling your panties and skirt down leaving you in nothing but a tie and thigh highs, climbing onto a desk, legs trembling. you watch as he unbuttons his dress shirt, throwing it off and he pulls his trousers and boxers down, exposing his throbbing, sizeable cock that sent a pit to your stomach. his eyes catch sight of you as your practically drooling over him, and he does nothing but smirk as your eyes meet.

he moved behind you, “i won’t be gentle,”

SORRY I DIDNT FINISH IT. i started writing this months ago but now i’ve kinda left the fandom and i’m never gonna finish this so here it is. you can imagine the rest.

new obsession: it (novel and book) ✅

new person to obsess over: jaeden martell 😍😍

i’m probably gonna post it oneshots and maybe stranger things fluff.

#georgenotfound smut #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #dream smut #sapnap #minecraft #streaming #youtube #smut #mcyters #mcyt smut

[alotofteez]

!!!! 59 + 199 +88 for Mingi please (she/her) + FLUFFFFF + neighbors? You're the best 10000 gold stars for you.

Feels Romantic | SMG

Member: Mingi x fem!reader

Genre: Fluffy smut 🔞

Words: 817

Prompt(s):

59. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just me.”

98. “Tell me what you want.”

199. “Choose me.”

Drabble game is still open!

A bright flash outside your window during a storm didn't concern you, but the loud crack of thunder immediately after has you jumping in your bed with a yelp. The lights in your apartment go out, and you hear the steady hums of your appliances turn into silence. You’re grateful that you had enough foresight to light a few candles a couple minutes ago.

Sitting in the dark alone isn’t really how you want to spend your night, so you reach for your phone to call your friend to at least have someone to talk to. Before you press the call button there’s a knock at your front door that startles you.

You scurry through your apartment with your phone’s flashlight and peek through the peephole to find your neighbor that you haven’t spoken to since your friend yelled that you think he’s hot in your apartment with paper-thin walls. You can barely make out his face in the dim light coming from a backup light in the hallway. Collecting yourself, you open the door and don’t bother with an official greeting.

“Mingi, you scared the shit out of me.”

He chuckles, “Don’t be afraid. It’s just me. I heard you yell and came to see if you were okay.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting the thunder to be so loud. I was about to call a friend, so I wouldn’t be alone,” you ramble.

“No,” he interrupts with a grin, “Choose me. I’m better company.”

“Oh...” You feel like a deer in headlights and don’t know how to react. There’s no way he didn’t hear your friend the other day yet he’s acting like it never happened. He must be the kind of person to not want to embarrass you for it. If it isn’t brought up, it never happened and you’re in the clear, right?

As you get lost in your own thoughts, he gives you a look with raised, questioning eyebrows. Realizing you’re taking too long to respond, you quickly open your door wider to let him inside. You mentally kick yourself while shutting the door. Can you just be normal, at least while he’s here?

You turn to see nothing in the darkness. Fuck.

 “I’ll go move my candles to the living room,” you assure.

“No, it’s fine. We can chill in there.”

A silence falls over you as you internally freak out.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to invite myself into your room. I just didn’t want you to move them and accidentally burn yourself.”

You laugh, noting the panic in his voice. “I get it. I don’t mind hanging out in there.”

What the hell are you even saying? Your heart is beating so fast, and your stomach feels weird from how nervous you’ve become. It’s too late to take it back now, so you begin to walk to your room but accidentally bump into him. His hand finds your wrist and gently holds onto you.

“Sorry, I can’t see anything and don’t know where we’re going,” he apologizes.

“You’re fine. Just follow me,” you say and before you try to head to your room again, his hand naturally slips into yours, interlocking your fingers. He probably has noticed how sweaty your hands are. It might be best if you just ran out of your apartment right now and never return.

Inside your room, the warm, flickering flames wash a dull glow over the two of you, and holy shit is Mingi handsome in this light.

“Feels romantic,” he comments, looking around at the candles.

Realizing he caught you off guard again, he blurts out, “Wait, no- I’m running out of feet to put in my mouth.”

His weird statement makes you laugh, partly soothing your anxiety.

“Sorry, I’m nervous,” he adds.

“Why are you nervous?”

Something clicks in his eyes, and a small grin hints at the corners of his mouth. He steps closer as one of his hands cradles your cheek, the other still holding yours. You swallow thickly at the shrinking space between you.

“You look beautiful this light,” he softly speaks before capturing your lips in a kiss. Your hand squeezes his, and his thumb soothingly brushes over your knuckle. When he pulls back, his eyes stay on your lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since you moved in.”

You don’t know what comes over you for you to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him back to your lips, to which he fervently returns the kiss. He guides you back until the backs of your knees meet your mattress. Your small gasp at the contact causes him to pause.

“We can stop. Tell me what you want,” he muses.

“You.” The soft yet confident voice that comes out of you is unfamiliar.

He exhales a quiet laugh through his nose and kisses you one more time before helping you onto your bed.

#you get deja queue #mingi #ateez #drabble #drabble game #smut #mingi drabble #ateez drabble #mingi smut #ateez smut #fluff #mingi fluff #ateez fluff #kpop drabbles #kpop smut #kpop fluff #my fics #my thingies

[joaquinwhorres]

Blank Out (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› Bucky Barnes has a list of names–amends he needs to make. When he gets to yours, he finds the amends process a bit more…difficult than it should be.

WORD COUNT ››››› 1,700-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› Oh hey, look at me jumping on that Falcon and the Winter Soldier trend. This is the Y/N version of my OC fic. Exactly the same but for people who prefer Y/N. Lemme know if you want to join the tag list!

Bucky stood outside of the door, staring at the wreath of brightly colored fabric leaves, a small wooden sign hanging in the center with the words Give Thanks looping across it. 

He doubted there was going to be much thankfulness for him on the other side of the door. 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

This was supposed to be getting easier. Dr. Raynor told him it would get easier. 

But for someone who hated bullshit so much, she really spent far too much time talking out of her ass. Because this wasn't easy. 

Easy would be surreptitiously wiring a million dollars into each of their bank accounts from the HYDRA accounts he still had access to.

Easy would be taking out anyone who had been involved in the decision to give him the order. 

Easy would be breaking the damn rules. 

The rules aren't meant to make your life easy, James. They're meant to disconnect you from the Winter Soldier. That's the whole point of making amends, isn't it? 

He'd give anything to get her damn voice out of his head. 

Bucky propelled himself up the front porch steps before he could change his mind. Like he had last yesterday. 

He rapped on the front door, accidentally knocking the wreath sideways as he went to pull his hand away. Instinctively, he reached out to right it, centering the sign and taking his hands away slowly to avoid a repeat of the situation. Bucky checked over his shoulder, half expecting Sam's stupid little robot to Zoom into view with Sam cackling and making some dumb quip about metal butterfingers. But Redwing wasn't there. The only other person outside was an old man mowing his lawn in a dingy white undershirt and grey sweatshorts. Bucky's lip curled in disgust before turning back to the door--the sound of locks clicking out of place putting him on alert. 

"Hello?" 

Bucky blinked, his eyes meeting those of the woman before him. Her eyes were striking, pinning him to the spot and pushing all semblance of thought out of his head. 

"Can I help you?"

Bucky blinked, nodding at her. Right. He was here for a reason. Not to stand like some teenage boy who'd just seen the girl next door for the first time. 

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/L/N."

"You found her." 

He blanched. "You're Y/N Y/L/N?" 

The look of vague curiosity that had been gracing features markedly shifted into a look of annoyance. "Believe it or not, Y/N’s come in all shapes, sizes, and colors." 

Fuck this. He needed to get out of here. There was no way he could have this conversation now. 

"Still want to talk to me?" She asked, eyebrows arched and arms folded across her chest. 

No. 

Sam's laughter echoed in his head, as if he'd been here to witness the exchange. And that's why he stayed. Out of spite. 

He nodded. "My name is James "Bucky" Barnes and--"

"Wait a second," she held out a hand and raised an eyebrow on him. He did as she asked, stopping mid-sentence with a sinking feeling in his gut. "You're the Bucky Barnes?"

He nodded, resigned to the fact that this was going to be his worst attempt at amends yet. "Yeah." 

"Well," she breathed, dropping her arms. "If I'd known I was meeting an Avenger at my door, I might have put on some pants." 

His eyes ran down from her face, noticing for the first time that she wore a dressing robe that barely swept the tops of her knees. Her bare knees.

His mouth opened as if he had even the faintest clue how to respond to this and then his jaw moved up and down for a new second as if the motion of talking would bring words. While it didn't muster an apology or some other decent thing to say, he did manage to utter a single word: "Shit."

She snorted at the reaction before smiling for the first time and shaking her head. "If you want to come in and wait, I'll go get changed."

He shook his head. "I can wait out here."

She was still smiling. Probably because she realized he was far more pathetic up close. "Suit yourself, but there's eggs inside."

"I'm good," he said, forcing himself to give a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. She nodded, leaving the door open behind her as she disappeared inside the house--as if he'd change his mind.

He should leave right now. Turn around and come back a different day when he could at least function like a mostly human being. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. 

The quick, sharp sound of pattering bare feet broke his stream of thought, as another girl came to the door, standing before him with her hands on her hips. "We were having breakfast, you know," the girl announced, her voice dripping with sass. "Now we have to wait until she's done talking to you. And I'm starving." 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be….not talking to strangers?"

"Shouldn't you be eating breakfast?" she countered.

"It's ten in the morning; I ate already."

"We were supposed to have breakfast an hour ago. But Ravi--"

"Rocio, leave Bucky Barnes alone," Y/N's voice called from elsewhere. 

Before he could fully process how odd it was for him to use his name, the little girl's hands dropped from her hips and she stared up at him, mouth agape and eyes comically wide. 

"You're Bucky Barnes?" she asked, her small voice awed. 

He nodded with a deep sigh and another forced smile. 

"What happened to your hair?"

"Got a haircut," he shrugged.

She furrowed her brow at him, her little eyes peering intently at his face. He wasn't sure the last time someone had looked him in the eyes this long. Nobody except Steve had looked him in the eyes since he made it out. The corner of his mouth twitched up. She nodded at him, having composed herself so her little face was serious once more. "I like this better."

"Thanks." He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. He didn't even really try. 

A thought seemed to hit her, lighting up her whole face with excitement. "Wait right here. Don't move. Promise."  He nodded again and she raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a stern look. 

"I promise," he said, clearly stating each word.

She nodded at him. "Ok. Good." And then she turned and ran into the house, her feet making far more sound than they should for someone of her size.

Y/N reappeared shortly thereafter with a faint smile on her lips, dressed in a copper colored sweater and jeans. "Sorry. You're her favorite."

"She's cute." 

What an idiotic thing to say. 

"Wish I could take credit," Y/N said, shaking her head. "She's my sister's. I'm just the babysitter on duty."

There were some more sounds of scampering and Rocio was back at the door wearing a long black satin glove, reaching about halfway up her bicep. There were lines streaked across it in gold marker to make it look like it was made of metal plates. 

"I made an arm like yours!" she announced, almost whacking Y/N in the stomach as she extended her arm out for him to see. 

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd seen Halloween costumes for sale and shirts with one of the sleeves modeled after his arm, and pictures of guys with an arm wrapped in tinfoil. All of them had been with his old arm--his silver one with the red star. The arm that belonged to Him. An arm made to invoke fear. 

This was the arm of a protector. 

She deserved more of a reaction than a small, breathy, "Wow." 

"Will you sign it?" Her eyes got even bigger if possible, and Y/N started to shake her head, bending over to talk to the little girl,  but Bucky stopped her. 

"You got a marker?"

"I'll go find one!" Rocio disappeared again, leaving him and Y/N alone on the doorstep. She was closer this time, and he could hear her talking to herself and rustling through different drawers. 

Y/N turned her attention from her niece back onto Bucky. "So, why is Bucky Barnes on my doorstep?"

"I uh--when does your sister get home?" he asked, eyes focused in the direction of Rocio's sounds. He swallowed, tearing his eyes away and back up to hers. "I should probably tell both of you...together."

The playful amusement that had been on her face disappeared as she stared at him, as if trying to see inside his head. Like she would want to see what was inside of his head. 

"She'll be here around three." 

He nodded, saved from a response by Rocio's re-appearance, waving a silver sharpie in the air. She offered it to him, and he plucked it out of her hand, taking hold of her toothpick of an arm in one hand and signing his name on the inside of her bicep. Where she could hide the signature if she wanted to.

Bucky handed the marker back to her as Rocio held her arm out, trying to catch sight of his name. 

"Rocio," Y/N prodded, gently. 

"Thank you!"  she chirped, before turning and literally skipping back inside. "Ravi--look!"

He liked her.

"That was really kind of you," Y/N said, warmly. "I think you just made her year." 

He shrugged. 

"Although, I have a feeling that this is all she's going to talk about for the next week," Y/N sighed, shaking her head. "Anyway, Lilly will be back around three if you want to come back then and share whatever secret serious news is it that you need to tell us together." Her voice was teasing, and Bucky's mouth lifted into a smirk.

"I'll be back then." 

"Great," she smiled politely. "See you then." 

He nodded, wishing her goodbye before turning down the stairs.

So much for getting easier.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #tfatws #fatws #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #falcon and winter soldier #bucky barnes reader insert #post-end game #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #marvel fic #avengers fic

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

It takes Jaskier three days to find out Geralt is his soulmate. 

After the whole thing with the elves, he follows the witcher to the next town, ostensibly to debut his musical genius, but also because—well. He just finds Geralt of Rivia to be the most interesting person he's ever met. Jaskier is drawn, first and foremost, to interesting people with stories to tell, and Geralt, as he'd said that first day, is just full of stories waiting to be told. 

He sings Toss A Coin to much warmer reception than he's gotten yet in backwater towns like this, and Geralt comes back from a contract for some creature bleeding out his intestines and looking like he'd rolled in every single mud puddle on the way back. 

"Did you go out of your way to jump in every puddle you saw?" he asks, face screwed up in disgust as he helps the witcher up the stairs to the room he'd rented with his new earnings. "If you were thinking to clean the blood off, you didn't do a very good job." 

Geralt just grunts, slumped against him and breathing through his nose in a way that seems very concentrated. His eyes are very black, like pitch, and there are veins spidering their way over his cheeks. He's also much, much paler than Jaskier has seen so far, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he's going to watch one of very few witchers left in the world perish on the spot from some poison or other. 

That would certainly cock up his plans to give the sod an image makeover, and he says as much as he watches, with concerned bemusement, as Geralt struggles to get his armor off to check on his wounds. 

"Do you ever shut up?" Geralt finally asks, squinting at him. He yanks a vambrace off and tosses it aside, teeth gritting as it pulls at his wound. It's too dark in the room with all of the witcher's black clothes to see just how much blood there is, even with all the candlelight. 

Jaskier huffs in offense and puts his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so silent all the time. Honestly, it's like you don't know how a conversation works." 

"I don't want to have a conversation with you." 

"Tough shit," Jaskier says, and finally steps forward to help. "Gods, maybe you should just climb into the bath like this. Might soften up the coagulating blood in your shirt to let you take it off. Here, c'mon. You're disgusting, and I might have to throw up from the smell alone." 

Geralt gives him another look but doesn't argue when Jaskier helps him up and over to the bath. The water is only lukewarm now, but it's clean, and that seems to do it for a nasty, gross, blood-covered witcher. 

He splashes in with little other fanfare, and then Jaskier jumps away as Geralt makes a strange motion with his hand and the water starts to steam. He stares in awe as the witcher settles in with a content sigh. 

"How did—what was that?" he asks, curiosity brimming. "How did you do that? Witcher magic, obviously, but what was that?" 

Geralt opens one pitch black eye to look at him. The spidery veins are starting to recede, barely. "Witcher magic," he deadpans, and Jaskier makes a face at him. There's the smallest, tiniest curve of his mouth, though—the bastard is smiling.

"Ha ha," Jaskier shoots back, sitting beside the tub. He dangles his hand in to feel the water now pleasantly, muscle-relaxingly hot. "Keep your secrets, then. I'll get them out of you one day." 

"Will you, now," Geralt teases—teases! Melitele, the man has a sense of humor. 

Jaskier just sniffs primly and stands up again, moving to grab some of his soaps and oils. "I will indeed, witcher. Now—which one of these do you like best?" 

Geralt grumbles and scrunches his nose at all but two of the soaps (the unscented ones, he should have known), complaining how they're too much for his senses right now, heightened as they are with the potion he'd taken earlier—also the reason for his current black-eyed state. Jaskier is fascinated by that, of course, and immediately starts asking him about the contract, how it went, what he'd fought, what other potions he has in his arsenal. 

He just—he wants to know. Geralt is intriguing and fascinating and interesting and there's just something about him that draws Jaskier in and makes him want to know everything. 

To his surprise, the witcher, while brief about it, does indulge him and give him a bit of a retelling of the fight as Jaskier helps him out of his shirt finally and washes his hair, combing out the gore and tangles. He gets a bit more about the mechanics of making witcher potions and what ingredients go into them, and a bit on the habits of the creatures—drowners, it turns out—and how they compare to other beasties he faces. 

Jaskier files away the thought that Geralt prefers talking about the gentle, everyday things in his life over the blood and death and fighting. He wants to keep that for himself, he thinks. 

He's so caught up in this quiet revelation that he doesn't realize he's let his hands fall to strong shoulders, fingertips brushing delicately, feather-light over scarred skin, until he notices a bright spot of color from the corner of his eye. He looks down reflexively and feels himself still, sucking in a sharp, startled breath. 

Geralt with his witcher senses notices immediately, body tensing up under his touch. "What." 

Jaskier, rare as it is in his life, can't seem to find his words. He watches, gobsmacked, as a trail of soft light blue follows the places he touches the witcher. It shimmers as he moves his fingers, like the tail of a star shooting across the sky, almost glowing, and he's mesmerized. 

It's not the having of a soulmate that's rare—most people do, in fact, and many times even multiple ones—compatibility is always in flux, after all—it's the Color Touch that most people never get to experience. One in every one hundred thousand people will be lucky enough to find the person—or persons—that will show their Color Touch. 

It's the presence of a bond so immediately strong that it manifests to the naked eye. 

"What is it," Geralt repeats, tone sharp. "What the fuck are you—"

He sits up in the bath, as if to move away from Jaskier, but Jaskier keeps him in place, sliding his fingers down to his forearm where Geralt can see the trail of color left in his touch's wake. He feels the witcher still, eyes—no longer pitch black, now back to their normal, beautiful gold color, the spidery veins gone—boring into the places Jaskier's fingers leave spots of blue as he dances them up and down his pale skin. 

"Impossible," Geralt breathes, but it sounds more like he's talking to himself. 

He reaches out and grasps Jaskier's wrist, stilling his movements, and when Jaskier gently pulls out of his hold they watch as the burnished gold color he leaves behind shimmers for a few heartbeats before fading away again slowly. 

"Impossible," Geralt repeats, just as soft, and finally, Jaskier finds his voice again. He laughs, breathless and excited. 

"Oh, my dear, I don't think 'impossible' is a word that's familiar with you," he says. 

He smiles when Geralt turns wide, wary eyes on him, full of a hidden, repressed hope, reaching out and trailing his fingers over the witcher's jaw, once again mesmerized by the blue of his own Color Touch. "I knew from the moment I saw you there was something special about you, Geralt of Rivia, and I wanted in on it." 

Geralt swallows thickly at that, throat bobbing as Jaskier's fingers caress over it. He looks away, clenching his jaw. "I'm not a fan of Destiny," he grits out. Jaskier feels him lean into his touch, though, almost instinctively. 

"Can't say I am, either," Jaskier agrees. "Doing what I'm told has never been one of my strong suits. I prefer making it up as I go, and to hell with the rest." 

It gets a snort of laughter out of the witcher, the tense lines of his body relaxing back into the warm bathwater. They'll be alright, he thinks. 

Jaskier can't help but lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, though, just to see if that leaves a Color Touch, too. 

It does. 

#the witcher #geraskier #fics. #time for my monthly reappearance on this hellsite #just to post this single fic and fuck right back off lksdjf #anyway have some soff soulmate fluff <3

[jackrrabbit]

👀 Dabi gives out daddy vibes so does Overhaul i

Dom!Overhaul, Aizawa, and Dabi x f!Reader headcanons (18+)

Highkey yeah? But at the same time I feel like Dabi and Overhaul have different flavors of caregiver Dom. Dabi’s got the classic daddy issues kink, but I think with Overhaul it would be a little more…clinical. You know what, I’m going to throw in Aizawa for good measure.

Warnings: medical/doctor kink, teacher kink, daddy kink, soft & hard dom/sub, overstimulation, orgasm denial, impact play, yandere, this is long af lol

Overhaul—medical kink ♢♢♢

Overhaul is paranoid about getting sick and disgusted by germs, plus he likes doing experiments. Surprise, surprise, he’s got a big fat doctor kink!

You’re the only one who doesn’t give him hives. That makes you special. So naturally he has to do some…examinations to find out why you’re so special

After a little while he starts to think about how cute you look in a hospital gown, on an exam table. So open and ready and willing to listen to whatever he says. You trust him so much

And Overhaul has 0 reservations about taking advantage of that trust

You catch on when he starts doing lewd things as part of his “examination”. Teasing your nipples to “check sensitivity”, telling you to take off the gown so he can inspect you more closely, stroking your pussy and smearing your juices over his latex gloves. He’s not subtle

He tells you about how doctors in the olden days used to treat female hysteria patients with orgasms, then picks you up off the exam table and gives you a live-action demonstration

Something about how clean and pure you are combined with that sanitized lab smell really gets him going

Sex aside, Overhaul really cares about your health. Like really. To a degree that could be called obsessive

Every day, twice a day, he makes you take your vitamins in front of him. Then he’ll make you open your mouth and show him that you swallowed (which usually leads to you swallowing…other things)

Does your blood work every 2 weeks to make sure you’re healthy

If you like going out and drinking/doing drugs/hooking up with people, he’ll put an end to that. No way is he going to risk you coming into contact with possible contaminants, unless they’re him

Overhaul isn’t sure if he wants to keep you clean or make you dirty ♢

Aizawa—teacher kink ☆☆☆

It’s not that literal. You can try to surprise him by coming to bed in a UA uniform thinking it’s going to spice things up, and he’ll just look at you blankly like do you really think I want to fuck one of my students and you’ll feel like an idiot

On the other hand, Aizawa’s a teacher. He can’t help being a teacher. So if there’s anything you aren’t super experienced at, you can bet that you’re going to get some gentle instruction

“Yes…yes, just like that, a little slower, yes, you’re doing so good, move your hips a little more, ahhh…yeah, back and forth a bit…touch yourself…I want to see you cum.”

The first time he tells you to masturbate in front of him, you’re hesitant because you’re embarrassed—only Aizawa thinks it’s because you don’t know how, and who better than him to teach you?

So now you’re in his lap with his hand covering yours, reaching down to tease your sopping wet pussy with his fingers, so much bigger and rougher and thicker than what you’re used to

He’ll narrate what he’s doing while he fingers you, and it’s so embarrassing that you’re glad he can’t see you blushing, not that he can’t feel you getting wetter

If you ease him into the teacher/student roleplay he’ll end up getting really into it

“Teach me how to suck your cock, sir” tends to get good results

Aizawa’s pretty lazy in bed, so you’re usually on top. But if you call him “sensei” while you’re riding him, he’ll get really intense and flip you over and rail you so hard the neighbors will complain

You’re just so eager to learn, and so cute when you ask for instructions—he can’t help teaching you

Aizawa gives out kisses like gold stars ☆

Dabi—daddy kink ♡♡♡

Ah, the classic.

“Call me Daddy. Call me Daddy, or you don’t get to cum. Only good girls get to cum.”

Makes you beg whenever you want something, and not just when you’re in bed

Need help reaching a book on the top shelf? Say please! Say please, Daddy! If you say it, he’ll get your book—but not before he fucks you over the table

You think it’s kinda weird. Daddy? Dabi’s so savage that your hickeys & bruises don’t even have time to heal before he gives you new ones, and he wants you to call him daddy? The guy doesn’t have a caring bone in his body—at least, as far as you know

But there’s a lot you don’t know

Dabi wants to know everything about you. If you’re not immediately and frequently willing to tell him what you’re thinking, he’ll think you’re trying to hide something. It drives him crazy that there are parts of you that don’t belong to him

He wants the two of you to be confidants; he wants to be the only one who really knows you and the only one you trust

Thinks of you as his helpless little girl—you’re so weak and pathetic it’s adorable. But if anything or anyone tries to hurt you, it’s going to be ashes real quick

Needs you to show affection 24/7—if you’re watching a movie you should be sitting in his lap and playing with his hair and if he’s fucking you, you better not close your eyes or look away from him, even for a second

Overstimulates you until you say I love you

Because of all the shit in his past Dabi has a hard time believing you when you tell him your feelings so you should get used to repeating yourself ♡

#bnha #dabi #overhaul #aizawa shouta #chisaki kai #eraserhead #dabi x reader #overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha headcanons #boku no hero academia headcanons #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere dabi x reader #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere chisaki kai x reader #yandere aizawa shouta x reader #yandere eraserhead x reader #soft dom #smut #mha #my hero academia #mha headcanons #my hero academia headcanons #the worst part of writing is having to think of all these tags

[mrsmaybank]

Daydreams - Professor!Reid x Student!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, HEAVY PETTING, SPANKING, FINGERING, DEGRADATION, UNPROTECTED SEX, AGE GAP, DADDY KINK

A/N: Holllaay shit. I am absolutely in love with Professor Reid and hate my father, so I couldn’t help myself. This is my first one-shot smut so I hope it doesn’t suck too badly. Enjoy my perversion EL O EL. Anyway, let me know if ya like it! 

Her little bambi eyes lit up in a way I knew I’d never be able to stop thinking about. The parting of her pouty lips made me want to press a big wet kiss on her mouth. But I couldn’t--She was a student. My student. My best student. Her elbows propped her up on the desk, curving her body so that my mind couldn’t go anywhere but daydreams of her in that same position grabbing onto bed sheets and mewling in submission. 

Our relationship didn’t extend past that, I was her teacher and she was my daydream. My latest vice had become mixing memories with self-tortourus fantasies. Fantasies where she sat naked on my lap, whimpering at my touch. I would treat her like she was made of glass and gold, light and then harsh, hot and then cold, loving and only then fucking. 

Today was the last day of the semester, she’d passed with flying colors and I had expected no less. I congratulated the class, but couldn’t help but say a couple extra words. 

“Special congratulations to the top scorer on the final. Miss, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Her eyes widened in excitement and then lowered in a façade of shyness, “Thank you sir.” 

“You went above and beyond this semester.” Her eyes met mine for the longest they ever had, 

“I’m proud of you.” Something about the way her shy smile had turned into a coquettish grin made me swallow hard, but it wasn’t just that look. She knew what she was doing. She always did.

“Class dismissed! Drink responsibly!” I said as the class packed up their things, “And if you’re underage, don’t drink at all!” I sat back down, tired but relieved. However when I saw that little thing prancing to my desk, I had all the energy in the world. 

“Dr. Reid?” she asked. She batted her eyelashes and played with the necklace that adorned her chest.

“Yes, Y/n?” 

“I, uh, thank you. Everybody said freshman year was gonna be tough,” I smiled at her breathy words, she spoke so eloquently. Like an articulate angel. She was an absolute angel. 

“And it was” She laughed, “But your class really made it better. You’re a wonderful professor. I’ve learned so much.” 

Oh, little girl. There’s so much more I could teach you. 

“Thank you. I have a summertime internship opportunity if you’re interested. There’s limited places, and I think you’d be absolutely perfect.” The outspoken girls brief silence confused me, as she shifted in what couldn’t be described as anything but anticipation, “Professor, are you really proud of me?” She spit out. 

I was stunned, “Why wouldn’t I be? You're great.” 

“I’m a tease, sir. That’s not something I expected a man like you to be proud of.” 

I closed my eyes and smiled to open them back up again. This girl was trouble, no question. But this, this was the kind of trouble that was just begging to be punished.

“You think you’re a tease?” 

She nodded. And I indulged. I shouldn’t have and I knew it. But she was a sweet peach, and I was just tall enough to rip her from her stem and consume her like it was the last fruit on earth. “Sweet girl.” I noticed her thighs squeezing together and the blown out black of her pupils. She wanted this just as bad as I did. “C’mere.” I turned my seat away from the desk. 

Like I knew she would, she obeyed and she sat on my lap. Her head immediately fell into my chest and she looked up at me. “You love to learn don’t you?” I asked her. She nodded, and I wanted nothing more than to take her right then. But I’d waited for this moment too long to do it in such haste. “I love to teach.” 

I kissed her neck like the sweet skin was on fire, light and quick but tender and wet. Her breath rose and fell harder each second my calloused hand got closer to the hem of her skirt, a skirt that was a couple inches too short for her own good.  Everything about her was like a pure poison, a tease for no reason. She knew she could’ve had me whenever she wanted, and yet like the coy and clever girl she was, waited. She waited knowing the longer she did, the more my infatuation with her would grow, and all the better the loving would be.  

My hands' slow descent up her skirt ended at the lace trim of her panties, where I traced the band west and east, watching her breath hitch as every time I trailed back slightly closer to her core. When I finally reached her center, dipping my fingers into her panties I was met with exactly what was expected. Soaking wetness and a whine. I couldn’t stop the chuckle that left me if I tried. I adjusted her so she sat perfectly, arms on my shoulders and legs spread, back to the wall and face to me. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” She rocked herself on my fingers, begging for them to just make their way inside. 

“Dr. Reid, ple-” 

I shoved two fingers inside of her more forcefully then I intended to, although the girl didn’t complain. She screamed. How responsive. 

I continued to stroke her insides, dipping my other hand into her skirt so I could use it to rub circles on her crescent. She was a star on the stage of my lap, and my gaze never left the sight of her gorgeous face contorting in desperation as adorable whimpers fell every time my fingers curled.

“Is it everything you imagined?” She asked. I was slightly taken a back, “F-fuck. Is it Daddy?” I slipped another finger in to shut her up but it didn’t work. “You’ve always wanted to, right? Hold me down and fuck me till I cry.” My fingers sped up and her walls clenched around me, clasping and gripping my fingers, and cries left her pouty little mouth. She had just come all over my fingers and was taunting me with my desperation. What the fuck. 

“Is that what you want?” 

“Hmm,” she giggled, “Please.” 

I shoved her off me to bend her over the wood of my desk.

I flipped her skirt up for a better look at the adorable little behind my sweet girl had. 

“Adorable. So adorable.” I slapped it hard, wanting nothing more than to see the red it would leave in its wake. 

A guttural moan left her mouth, “Shit!” 

“Aw, what’s up little girl? Is it not what you imagined? You’ve always wanted it, hm?” I spanked her again, harder. She whimpered slightly, clearly holding back whatever sounds the action were provoking. “Bent over my desk and being hit?” I hit her again, and she screamed this time. “Or did you think I’d just fuck you right away? “ The room echoed with two sounds, my hand slapping the skin of her ass, and the whine from her that always followed, “Hm? I didn’t hear you sweet pea.” I hit her twice then, as she finally submitted, “Daddy, please!” 

“What’d you want babe?”

“Please, fuck me.” 

I dragged the tiny piece of cotton that had now been soaked off her, preparing to gag her with them. 

“You being loud is not gonna cost me my career.” 

“Wait!” I stopped in my tracks, 

“I’m on the pill. Just so you know.” 

I smiled, “Okay.” Shoving the panties in her cute little mouth as she nodded eagerly in understanding. 

I unzipped my pants, finally freeing myself from the tightness that had me painfully strained. 

I gently made my way so my tip was at her entrance, as she wiggled into me, 

“Desperate little slut.” She moaned against her own fabric. 

I grabbed her by the waist to shove her into me, my cock hitting the back of her walls as she cried, I couldn’t fathom the pleasure that every nerve in my body was feeling. “You’re so tight. So wet..” I pounded into her with all the strength I had in the world. Each thrust eliciting a muffled moan or whimper or sob that just urged me to go in again harder. I grabbed and pushed her propped elbows down, so I had a hand on the back of  her neck, holding her down exactly like she said I wanted to. She was right. I did. “This is what we both wanted, huh?” 

“Little girl” I started, my thrusts into her beginning to get sloppier as her cries got louder, my voice was coarse, “Pretty little girl. You like this?” Between messy sobs of pleasure, she got out a pathetic little mewl of “Yes.” I snaked a hand around to pull her up and look her in the eyes and press a sweet kiss to her forehead before ripping the panties from her mouth and roughly pressing her back down on the desk. “I wanna hear you.” I fucked her with a passion I hadn’t ever in my life.

Her walls gripped me tighter then I thought was possible, and I knew the end was near. “Daddy.” She panted, ‘G’nna c-cum.” I ignored it “Aw. Pretty girl, you can wait for Daddy, can’t you?” 

“No!” she wined, “Please, just let me-Fuck! Daddy,” she sobbed, “Please.” My thrusts were getting rougher, messier, better. “Come.” I ordered. Her walls began to convulse and flutter, physically begging for me to join her. I got faster, fucking her as she came, lost in her pretty moans and gripping pussy. She bounced with my thrusts, sobbing as she said, “Cum, daddy, please.” The rapid pace stopped as those words left her mouth, I came into her as deep as possible, feeling her twitch as my sticky release coated her. Pulling out, I flipped her around to kiss her sweetly. She giggled into the kiss and looked at me in a way I’d remember forever. 

“Thank you, professor.” 

“Yeah little girl, anytime.” I began to help her clean up.

She lit up, “You mean that?” 

I nodded and helped her sit up, “Oh, yeah I do.” 

#spencer reid fanfiction #Spencerreid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer #Criminal Minds Reid #reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid and reader #spencer reid x you #spencerreid x reader smut #reid x y/n #reid smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #professor reid #professor reid x reader

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Tell Me A Story

Loki x f(magic reader)

Summary: Stuck in an Asgardian cell for your crimes, you meet an intriguing fellow prisoner who you can’t help but start to feel something for.

Warning: angst, fluff (you’re not leaving sad on my watch)

Masterlist

The ground feels hard. And your head feels incredibly fuzzy, like waking up from a deep slumber by some rude acquaintance who can’t mind their own damn business. Not to mention the throbbing sensation emitting from the left side of your cheek like two annoying disturbances. Were you smacked twice?

What in the bloody shitsticks?

The light in this place is so bright too, you have to squint when opening your irises for the first time to really get a good look at your surroundings. With the light in this awful place too much to bear, you cover your eyes with your fingers to lessen the harshness from above. Soon your gaze trails up witnessed a clean ceiling of pure marble white.

Wait. Are you dead?

Adjusting to the brightness, you slowly bring yourself into a seated position on the equally as shiny clean floor. To your left is a bed and a small nightstand while your right is a see through golden tinged barrier showing the other cells and a single guard walking down the hallway. Cells? Cells!

A prison? You’re in a fucking prison. Shit.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, head in your hands, you suddenly hear a knock on the white section of the confinement hold that turns into loud pounding. Thud! Thud! Thud! And a second later the white disappears, in place shows the same see through golden tinge. A guard on the other side.

“You’re awake.” He says, voice casual as an old friend.

You give him a puzzled look before feeling your face, “I think so.”

He takes a step into your prison where a sword is held in your face, maybe not so much an old friend after all, “As protocol, I must ask you three questions.” Delves the guard, stance never changing.

“Go for it tough guy.”

He remains unfazed, “Do you know your name?” Easy.

“Y/N.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Uh.

“Well it wasn’t for stealing a child’s favorite toy.” You muse before quickly changing your façade, “But yes.”

He scoffs unamused, “Do you know where you are?”

Now this question you don’t have an answer for so instead do you give him your sweetest most innocent face possible, “uh, maybe you could enlighten me?”

The armored man rolls his dark eyes, “You’re in the royal dungeons of Asgard, placed here by King Odin for crimes against our realm. For that. You will remain until otherwise noted by the King.” Barks the guard, you stare up at him with wide eyes. Shocked and bewildered that you’re stuck in Asgard of all places.

“I didn’t even have a fare trial!” You protest.

“You didn’t deserve one, filth.” He counters before sheathing his sword back into its scabbard and off he goes into the golden tinged door. Out of sight in an instant. Rude.

Leaving yourself very puzzled and irritated at the whole ordeal, you never even got a trial to speak your side of the story. Nothing. Now you’re stuck in this dumb shit of a cell with literally nothing to do and no one around to bother, oh wait who’s that across the room?

Jumping to your feet, you swiftly walk over to the glass; there stands a man in green and black attire, leather bound book in hand as his slender face focuses onto the pages. He’s rather handsome in all honesty, with that dark shoulder length hair of his and the thoughtful expression across his face. You’re now fully intrigued.

Then your mind swirls with a thought, you’re in Asgard. So, this must be prince Loki, the one who failed to conquer Midgard. Soon a devilish smirk crosses your features, “What are you doing down here? I thought princes were the ones to put delinquents behind bars?”

Loki’s face shifts from surprise to amusement as he keeps his eyes onto the pages, “Kings.” Corrects the Asgardian prince.

You smile, “Well this king can eat shit!”

He lets out a breathy snort before finally drawing his gaze up to you, his expression quickly diminishes from amusement into star struck fascination when those beautiful blues land upon your beaming mischievous face. Loki has never seen someone so magnificently enticing in his whole entire life. But here you are, whoever you happen to be.

The raven haired man sets the book onto his nightstand before sauntering over to the glass wall, “And who do I presume you are? My new source of entertainment.”

Waving him off like a blushing maiden, you pretend to get all hot and bothered by his sly comment, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”

Loki smirks, “I would indeed.”

You curl a piece of hair around your finger, gifting him a shy smile as you avoid his steely gaze. “Sorry.” You mutter, “I only tell men who can take over whole planets in under three days.”

He immediately loses his humored aurora, replacing it with a slightly taken aback yet somewhat pissed off one. “Ouch. But I can’t image you’re any clever if you happen to be stuck down here with me.”

You point up a finger, “On the contraire, my faults are less hefty then your own. So who really lost here?”

“From the looks of it. Both of us.”

You nod, “That is a truthful observation, but what has gifted us a sentence in exile are two entirely different sides to the relatively same coin.”

“Mine being, failure to conquer and rule Midgard. And yours being?”

“Fine. I’ll satiate your appetite.” He raises a brow as you trail your hand down the buzzing glass, “I may have tried to steal some pretty gems downstairs. Blah blah and I got caught by some lady named Frigga who’s a lot more skilled with magic then I had first realized and now I’m here. Granted I don’t remember getting to said “here” but alas my body remains.”

Loki smirks, “My deer mother got the best of you. How is she up in the real world these days?”

“Oh you know, told me she loves reading, doing the usual witchy stuff, and she hates you so go burn in hell for eternity you shit head little boy.”

Loki could have choked on his own spit, “Pardon me?”

“You heard me, she said she loves you. Is that not what you heard? I really thought I was being pretty clear.”

The Asgardian prince shakes his head, “Forget I asked.” Turning around once again to find his way onto the comfortable looking mattress, new book in hand.

You pout at the lack of attention, what did you say to annoy him? Was it the little shit head boy? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

——

There he is. That incredibly attractive Asgardian prince of Mischief, just standing there. Reading yet another book in his beautiful greens and blacks and golds as he chooses to ignore you. The insanely gorgeous but deeply irritating woman across the cell from him.

You’ve been in here for about four weeks now and Loki has not cracked once. You’re really trying too! All he’s done is gift you with some telling facial expressions or the wonderful side comment to address your theatrics or harmless shenanigans.

All you want to do is get to know him better. And maybe along the way get the fuck out of here with a little help, and then preferably take the prince along for the ride. If it was only that easy.

Levitating in your cell just because you’re tired of standing all the time, you keep your usual unabashed stare-down with the prince when a random guard marches by. He looks from right to left and forward again before doing a double take over to you.

“Hey! Stop that!” He shouts, lance raised at your smirking face while you continue to float, “You can’t do that here!”

You simply roll your eyes, “Who has made this new rule law?”

The guard pauses for a moment, clearly indicating that he just doesn’t want you floating because he’s a party pooper. He swallows, “By king Odin.”

“By king Odin? Doesn’t his son fly?”

“Huh?” He glances over to Loki who’s not paying attention to you two in the slightest.

“Not that one.”

The guard makes a frustrated grunt before removing his lance away from your face, no matter the safety of the glass, “You can remain afloat but only under my authority.” And with that does he stomp off down the corridor.

Idiot.

You beam a victorious grin as he leaves your sight when a sudden slow clapping can be heard from across the hallway. Immediately do you snap your attention up to the prince who’s already sharing one of his infamous smirks, “Congratulations. You’ll now have an enemy down here. And it only took you a few weeks.”

You scoff, moving yourself to float casually on your back, “It’s about time too. Things were starting to get unbearably dull around here.”

Loki hums, “Ever try reading?”

You snort, “No, no I haven’t. Hmm, but I’d love it if you could read to me, since I don’t happen to have any books within reach. It’s only fair.”

Loki raises a brow, “Only fair?”

“Yes. I have the guards annoyed with me, so, they won’t care much about you. And. You get to read, but also to me as well.”

“That’s a possibly compelling suggestion.” Says the prince, mulling over your words.

“I thought so.”

You close your eyes as a couple moments pass before he speaks again, “But I must decline.”

“What!” You shout in bewilderment as he lowly chuckles, “I might just about die of boredom, you want me on your conscience when I pass into oblivion from lack of entertainment!”

Loki smiles at your adorable face, “Make your own fun.” He teases, though you don’t realize this.

Moving yourself into a standing position, yet still without touching the ground, you press your hands against the golden tinged glass, “Loki! You are a beautifully great annoyance and if I wasn’t stuck in here I would throw all your books about! And then….then I’d knock down your nightstand!”

He smirks, “Charming.”

You pout while your fists clench in irritation, “Fine! I didn’t want to listen to your loathsome voice anyways!” He gifts you with a proud half grin as you turn from him to magically throw your wooden nightstand across the room.

You land, reaching a hand out to launch the nightstand back across the room once more before repeating this action again and again until the whole flimsy thing combusts when it crashes violently into the closest wall.

Breathing heavily, you slowly turn to face the irritation watching you do all of this, “Feel better Y/N.”

Pursing your lips together, you release your tight fists, “Yes.”

He nods, “What would you like me to read?”

“Something joyful…….please.”

Loki shares a handsome grin before giving you a respectfully small bow, “As the lady wishes.” Loki shares a small glance with your curious face before turning to search for a book. He kneels down and soon picks out a book colored in a deep blue, something foreign written in golden cursive on the front.

You slowly return to the ground, this time seated criss crossed as you lean half of yourself upon the glass as you try and get as close to Loki as physically possible. Which is difficult considering the hallway’s short distance keeping your cells apart, but you try anyways. He opens up the book and quickly looks up to catch your gaze before smiling and looking down at the first page.

Loki reveals the smallest blush before clearing his throat, “The Fox and the Raven.” You smirk at his adorable face, how focused and deep in thoughtful concentration he becomes as the words flow off of his sly tongue like molten gold. You could listen to him all day.

“Once there were two beings, equal in skill and game. Best friends since childhood even, but there was one thing that drove a wedge in their long relationship. Another. This beautiful being was beyond compare to that of any god or goddess alike. And the two friends where undoubtedly in love with them.

It began one windy day by the river, the beauty stood, washing their hair by the waters edge with not a mind to mess with anyone in their head. The two friends saw them and smiled. “I shall win their affections.” Claimed the dark haired admirer, Tala. “Not you silly fox, I shall be the one to draw their heart to mine.” Spoke Essek with great confidence, his bestfriend in the whole entire realm.

They looked to each other with clear frustration sculpted into their faces, so, the friends came to an agreement. Whoever failed to win over the water nymphs heart, that friend must stay in their animal form forever while the victorious one could live on as they always have. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe not at first.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the two friends would speak with the water nymph as often as they could. Tala in raven form and Essek as a dashing fox. All was going well as they played their little game of love until the water nymph began to grow quit fond of the raven for his talents in the sky and witty personality.

So much so that on the next full moon, the raven revealed himself to his true form before making love to the joyful water nymph on the rivers edge. And so the very next day when the fox arrived to speak with the nymph, he was surprised to find Tala laying underneath a weeping willow with the nymph in his strong arms.

The fox recoiled with jealousy before his heart shattered in two, Tala smiled a triumphant grin as the fox turned away in disappointment before rushing off into the woodland. Never to be seen again.

So that is why you can never trust anyone who is truly dear to you, for love is a fleeting thing and can turn friends into beasts for something as silly and pathetic as a beacon of affection.” Finishes Loki in an almost sour tone as you sit there on the cell floor, feeling a bit off and out of place from that abrupt turn of events.

You frown, “I thought you were going to read me a happy story?”

Loki closes the book, “I did.” Blue eyes on you in an instant.

“No. You really didn’t.”

Loki gives you an almost dumbfounded look, “The raven got to keep his original form and make love to the water nymph what else is there to want?” He questions like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Not.

“The fox is depressed now. That’s not very happy.”

“It was happy for those two, was it not?”

You roll your eyes, “It was. But a happy story should have a happy ending for everyone involved. That’s the point of a happy tale being told.” You counter as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Not everyone gets what they want in the end, Y/N. That’s just life, some are fine and persist while others turn and run with nothing of any significance still clinging to them.”

You sit there a moment in bewilderment, soon rising to float threateningly by the glass, “That’s ridiculous! A happy story should be fucking happy! Love is supposed to be kind and beautiful, not this wedge that turns people against one another and supports a game that shifts into jealousy and disdain for one.”

Loki hums, “Well it is just a story after all. Love does that because it isn’t truthful ever, it’s a fleeting thing without any weight that only causes pain and disappointment.”

Your brows soon furrow at these dark words, “Oh and what do you understand about love?” You hotly challenge, voice accusatory and fierce.

“That it isn’t real.” Mutters the prince with a casual shrug, though his face flashes with uncertainty.

You scoff, “Is it now? You think love is a simple lie? A trick from the universe to keep races existing until their worlds collapse?”

“Yes.” Nods the Asgardian, “That’s what I believe.”

You take a breath, feet slowly touching the cool tiled floor as you speak, “You have no idea what it feels like then. So how can you claim it to be false?”

Loki crosses his arms, “True love isn’t real because that just cannot be realistic in any sense Y/N. Same thing as feeling happy or when you sneeze….the feeling is a feeling like butterflies in your stomach when you get excited. But like every emotion given, it leaves and the feelings are dulled or just dissipate altogether.”

“You’re wrong.” You bitterly mutter, voice low and filled with a somber hurt.

“And how would I be wrong then?” He wonders, truly curious to see how on earth you are able to counter this. He doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in love, though his growing affections for you seem to have him conflicted. He still wants to know.

“It is like magic, to be in love.” You reply, a faint smile ghosting your lips as you press your hands against the glass, “It is bright and brilliant and beautiful. It does not come and go like a fleeting spark from a dying flame. Love, like magic, forms from within when let into someone’s vessel. It is a power that always remains no matter where the person travels, or how old they become. Love, in the end and always through existence will remain. No matter what.”

Loki could have shed a tear at your beautiful explanation, yet his stubbornness persists, “A fairytale. Nothing more.”

“A fairytale? A fucking fairytale!?” You shout, voice rising in fury, “You don’t know anything but the lies you tell yourself you heartless bastard! All I wanted was a happy story that made me smile before I’m executed! And you couldn’t even give me that you selfish prick of a man!”

Loki’s heart grows cold as a winters morning, he blinks, forgetting how to properly breath at your heated declarations. He steps closer to the thin glass, brows furrowed in puzzled apprehension, “You’re being executed?” He asks, tone low and thoughtful.

Face falling into a deep frown, you lower your head in shame, “I have been condemned to die for my crimes above. Guess they’re not so simple as I had first claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

You let out a telling sigh, “I didn’t try and take the queens jewels, I tried to murder her..”

“You what?!” Whispers the Asgardian prince, eyes wide in shock, “What do you mean?”

Your gaze keeps trained onto the floor, “I am…well, I was….an assassin. Who, ultimately could not force myself to murder your mother Frigga, so I let myself be caught and taken. It’s the least I deserve for the life I’ve led. This is just how it goes, and I’m ready.”

Loki’s mind races, he never even suspected such a thing coming from you. Sure you’re indeed a beautiful mystery of a person who enjoys levitating in her cell for the hell of it. But your appearance and pose never revealed someone capable of homicide as their profession, least of all you.

And now, his father is condemning you to death rightly so, but Loki can’t help but think you don’t truly deserve this fate. Maybe, just possibly, he’d feel like he was losing a close friend. Someone who he never had any intentions of developing these strange new feelings for.

“I won’t let him end your life.” Suddenly speaks the prince, “You didn’t kill her, you actively chose not to, so I believe he could sway his final decision.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Wishful thinking.” Just as three guards dressed in their true Asgardian golds walk to the front of your cell. Loki swallows, they dissipate the golden tinged force field, leaving you with nothing but air to keep you from their clutches.

“Y/N.” Softly calls the dark haired prince, voice small and desperate, he didn’t think they would take you so soon but what does he truly know anymore? Your sad eyes lock onto his as one guard snaps metal cuffs against your wrists, and another around your throat before he ushers you out.

Loki can’t tear his eyes from yours the whole time, and even after you’ve been dragged down the hallway and out of sight. He thinks, maybe you’ll return and it was all a big misunderstanding, a simple nightmare and he’ll wake any second now. But he knows this is foolish thinking, you’re never coming back. And he’s beside himself.

Loki bows his head in silent anguish, fists clenched tight as his heartbeat begins to race when suddenly he releases his grip and a small blast of green magic emits in the aftermath. Just enough power to knock some books onto the floor in protest. He doesn’t pick them up.

In the following days, Loki would pace around his cell like a nervous lion. Reading book after book to help pass the time though he couldn’t stop his racing mind from thinking about you. Where were you now? What had they done to you? Did it hurt?

He didn’t know and what’s worse is the guards only seemed to mock him about it, claiming your life was worth more dead then anything else. It stung like a heated iron spear left too long in the hot coals, he missed you beyond compare. How did you make him feel this way? When did that happen?

He missed your mischievous smile, your alluring eyes of curiosity and concealed chaos. The way you spoke to him like a person and not just a prisoner, or even a prince who’s disappointed his whole kingdom. You didn’t care, sure you lived to tease and pester him relentlessly, but you didn’t truly care about his current status.

You drew the attention out of him without even needing to try, brought a smile upon his face weather he was aware of it or not, and made him feel genuinely excited about waking up the next day. You became everything to him and more, and Loki hadn’t even realized this until it was too late.

But now you’re gone. And he will never see another Y/N for as long as he is to live.

Loki sits with his back against the wall, hair undoubtedly a wild mess closely matching that of the room about him. Books, clothing, furniture, and other personal belongings lay around his cell like the aftermath of a furious hurricane. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but when he got word that his mother was injured in the attack by the dark elves and freed prisoners. He new it was his fault, he led them to freedom after all.

With his mother healing from her non fatal wounds, and the loss of his dear Y/N to the axe. Loki has been doing less then tremendous these past few weeks, clearly. The prince now closes his weary eyes, breathing steadily as a new presence makes itself known across the golden tinged glass. He doesn’t care to look.

“Well don’t you look sad.” Teases a familiar voice, not condescending but just enough to make him laugh if he felt like it.

He opens his eyes to find your smirking face, body safe and sound wrapped in a cloak of white and intricately laced gold. How absolutely beautiful you are. His brows furrow as he mutters, “You’re just an illusion.” Voice horse and filled with doubt.

You raise a brow, “So is this?” You ask in reference to the clean cut illusion Loki is controlling, “I think not. I can see right through it.”

He forgot about the illusion he’s been creating since his breakdown, of course you’d see right through it, “You died. And my mother is hurt.”

“So you lost control within yourself and chose self deprecation? And apparently…chaos.” The trickster god rolls his tired eyes which causes you to chuckle, “I see my passing onto greater things has weakened your ego.”

He scoffs, “Your ghost form does not amuse me.”

Taking a glance down the vacant hallway, you step right through the golden tinged force field like it’s nothing more then air. “Loki Laufeyson, I am not a phantom or a dreary pigment of your imagination you foolish prick. I am Y/N, Goddess of Chaos and Magic. And someone who has missed you deeply.”

Loki frowns, blue eyes focused up at your truthful face as he sighs, “I….I don’t think I understand what is happening.”

You approach his side before kneeling down to reach his level, you two have never been this close before, “My tale was true as the forming of this realm itself. But your mother saw me for who I am, not what I have been enchanted to do with my life. So she gave me another chance to live, and so I did. To protect her and guard her until she deems otherwise, that’s why I’m still alive and that’s why your mother still has a beating heart.”

Loki reaches out for your hand that you gladly let him take, “Those prisoners..”

“I killed them. Every last one of those fuckers and the damn dark elves who attempted to crash their ship into the great hall. Let’s just say, it didn’t go according to their plans.” You explain, pausing for a moment to share a longing look with the Asgardian prince.

The corners of his lips rise into a soft smile, a deeply relieved one while you look down at your laced fingers, “Loki.” You whisper before drawing your head up to properly look at him.

“Yes.”

“I’m still counting on a better story.” You muse as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Unfortunately none of these books happen to provide a decent tale, my dear.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “In that case I’ll bring you all the books stuffed in that giant library. There’s bound to be a good one, something happy.”

“I’d like that.” Nods the prince.

You smile, “But I have to ask you one thing.”

“Of course.”

“Did you miss me?”

Loki squeezes your hand right back, “More then I’d ever missed anyone.” Reveals the dark haired prince as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, though his fingers linger on your cheek a moment longer before he slowly pulls them away and into his lap.

You can’t help but snicker which causes his face to scrunch up in puzzled embarrassment. Immediately do you reach up to cup his cheek, “I felt the same way. And I think I might feel a bit more too, quit possibly a lot more. No. Yes definitely a lot more then I first led on from a few weeks ago in fact and all I must admit to you now Loki Laufeyson or Odinson..prince of Asgard I think I’d like to kiss you now if that’s okay with you.”

Loki blinks, did he hear you right? “oh.” He mumbles, clearly unsure of himself or whatever wonderful thing you just said.

You immediately remove your hand from his cheek, “Too soon. Sorry I just thought I read you right maybe I was wrong I can just leav….” You don’t even have a moment to finish your sentence when his lips press pleasantly against yours.

His hands hold your face while your own hands gently grip onto his forearms for support in your awkward positioning, with him sitting and you still crouched. But it matters not when his lips move in time with yours, he feels so lovely, like a hundred roses pressing against your skin.

Giving you that soft velvety feel, you could kiss him all day if he’d let you. Though soon enough the two of you must break for some air, and with that do you pull him to his feet while you float just inches off of the messy ground. Loki never once taking his hand away from yours.

“How can you….how can you do that?” Wonders the prince as he glances from the ground to your face.

You shrug, “How can you move things with your mind?”

He smiles, “I guess, I just can. A terribly lackluster explanation I know, but perhaps I’m not truly certain how either.”

“Well let’s not dwell on the unknown for too long, this moment right now is too sacred for anything else. And though I have to leave, I will return to you…..and next time with more books. Then you will have no choice then to read them all to me.”

Loki hums, “I don’t see a problem there.” Before whispering in your ear, “Maybe bring some wine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

You share a bright grin, “As the spoiled prince asks, but it will cost you.”

Loki raises an intrigued brow, “Cost what?”

“A kiss. Before and after I do your bidding. Can you settle for those terms?”

Loki’s lips pull into an adorable smile, cheeks almost dusting pink at your new flash of boldness. He’s never met anyone quit like you in all his years alive. “I believe those terms are acceptable.”

You give him a wink, “Good. See you then.” And with that do you crash your lips against his for on more heated embrace before leaving one final kiss to his slender cheek and floating out of the cell you go. Stopping behind the glass to give your new lover one last fleeting look, “Miss me you prick.”

Loki smirks, “Always.”

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #god of mischief #fanfiction #fanfic #tom hiddleston

[yespolkadotkitty]

BEAUTIFUL art by @thepoisonofgod 

Masterlist  ~  Chapter 29

Words: 1800  Warnings: Unproctected sex, swears, intimacy.

Thanking the goddess that is @astroboots for the beta!

*********

As the sky got darker, the celebrations amped up.

Zach fit like he’d always been part of our family. He supported Ahma when she staggered a little while watching the lion dance - standing for long periods had never been her forte.

Later, when we watched the fireworks before heading back home, I came back from using the nearby restroom to see that he’d procured a folding chair for her. No one had asked him. I instinctively knew he’d just done it, and my Ahma beamed up at him like he’d hung the moon.

When we got back to Mom’s, she made tea while I changed into my new dress. The fabric felt cool and silky against my skin.

When I came out of the bedroom, Mom and Ahma were fussing over Zach, blocking my view of him.

“I can’t accept this,” he was saying, his voice low.

The two matriarchs in my family parted, giving me a view of the man I’d come to care for so much. 

He wore a smart white shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of charcoal suit pants. A jacket in the same fabric lay over my Mom’s arm, and Ahma held a pair of smart, black sneakers - indistinguishable from dress shoes from a distance, but shoes he’d be able to wear every day.

My heart squeezed, hard.

“Aiyah!” Ahma cried. “You cannot tell me how to spend my money. I will be dead soon and what good will it do me then?”

Zach looked up at me, torn. I shrugged helplessly.

“I am too old to walk to the store to return the clothes,” Ahma said, affecting a feeble air. I swallowed back a laugh.

Mom cupped his face in her hands. “Just say thank you, Zach.”

Zach smiled slowly and nodded. “Thank you. Thank you both so much. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” we all echoed.

Mom handed Zach the jacket and he bent and bussed her cheek.

Satisfied, Ahma and Mom disappeared into their respective bedrooms to change for dinner at our favourite Chinese place. The table had been booked for three hundred and sixty hour days, I reckoned.

Zach spread his hands, awe on his face. “Martha…”

“It’s useless to protest,” I murmured, smoothing my hand down the lapel of his shirt collar. “They got your size just right.”

“You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t. I assume that’s why they waited until I went to change to give it to you.” I slid my palm up and cupped his jaw, rubbing my thumb over his lower lip, over the little crease, the little kiss from the angels who made him. “You look very handsome.”

“You look…” Zach settled his hands on my hips, his gaze travelling from the top of my head to my feet and back again. “Wow. There are no words. Am I really the guy who gets to go home with you tonight?”

“Yes. You are.” I leaned in and kissed him softly. He drew me close, and his lips parted under mine. I felt his cock twitch through the dress pants and pulled back, sighing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, Martha Song.”

Mom and Ahma appeared as Zach put his new sneakers on. He looked so good. I was overwhelmed by the urge to unbutton that smart shirt and press my lips to every inch of tanned skin, to breathe in his scent and mark him as mine and never, ever let him go.

“Ready?” Ahma asked. She wore a red and gold embroidered jacket and a smart, pale grey top and trousers. Mom had donned her best cheongsam, a rich, dark green with coiled black brocade forming a floral pattern across her left shoulder. Her hair fell around her face in soft waves, and I was struck by how beautiful she was.

“Ready!” I said, slipping my arm through Zach’s.

He bent his head to mine. “Proud to be on my arm tonight, honey?”

“I’m always proud to be on your arm.”

He shook his head, muttering “Stupid,” like I wasn’t playing with a full deck, but he dropped a kiss on my forehead anyway. I could feel his smile.

Mom unlocked the door, and I tugged Zach towards it, but then remembered something. “Wait!”

I hurried to the kitchen drawer where Mom kept a little box with special knicknacks, and fished out Bryan’s dog tags, slid them around my neck, where they rested under my cheongsam, next to my heart.

Zach was watching me with softness in his gaze.

“I always bring him with us for New Year dinner,” I said quietly.

Mom caught me in a big hug, squeezing me tight. I squeezed her back, and felt the cold metal of Bryan’s dog tags between us, and it was momentarily like there were three of us again; and then we locked up and made our way to Da Mao Jia.

*****

“I had plans, I swear,” Zach groaned as we practically fell through the door of my apartment. “I did. But I can barely breathe right now, let alone engage in anything more… enthusiastic.”

Just the thought of him lying on top of me made me shake my head. “Unfortunately, I agree. We were no match for Da Mao Jia’s new year banquet.”

Zach closed the door behind him and shook his head. “I’ve never seen so much food. I have never eaten so much food.”

I hefted the takeout box in my hands. “I hope you want beef ho fun and har gow for breakfast.”

He made a face. “I need to lie down.”

I settled the box of leftovers in the fridge. Zach was sitting on the couch, eyes closed, hands on his stomach. “I may never need to eat again.”

“That’s a shame, because that takeout box begs to differ.”

He chuckled. “Stop talking about food and get over here.”

I started to sit, then thought better of it. “I need to change.”

I unbuttoned the cheongsam and slid down the side zip. I felt like I had a little food baby and I sighed with relief as it was given more space.

Zach watched me over the back of the couch as I shimmied into an old t-shirt and took my glasses off, setting them on the shelf above the futon. 

“God! That’s better. I’m sorry we didn’t get to have fun with the dress.”

“Plenty of time for that.”

My pulse quickened. He was talking about the future. A future with me. I was careful not to mention it, though.

He patted the couch and I dropped down next to him. He curled his arm around me, and I snuggled in. Outside, the fireworks exploded in the black of the night sky, spears of red and plumes of gold splitting the darkness and shaming the pinprick stars.

Zach’s fingers played lazily in my hair. “Your Mom and Ahma are too generous,” he said eventually.

“No, they aren’t.”

He mulled this over for a few moments. He was so warm and solid beside me, and I never wanted to get up.

“While we were out - you were in that little fried chicken place with your Ahma - I asked about the pot washer job. They said yes.”

I sat up. “Zach, that’s amazing!”

He flushed. “Well. It’s a job.”

“Don’t downplay it. I’m pleased for you.” I pressed a kiss to his lips, felt them curve under mine. “I am. Congratulations.”

His arm tightened around me. “Don’t know how I’ll cope in the kitchen. It’s in their basement, so there’s more space than most places. We’ll see. I have to try.”

His quiet determination made me love him even more. If that was possible. “You’ll do great. I’m sure of it.” I kissed him again, felt interest stir between my legs. I sat up further, then turned and swung my leg over his thighs so I straddled him. “And I’m also sure that I’m ready for dessert.”

Zach’s eyebrow arched. “Oh, yeah?” He smoothed his palms up my bare legs to cup my ass through my thin underwear. His hands were warm, a little rough.

I shivered. “Very much yeah.”

He inhaled sharply when I unbuttoned his suit pants, my knuckles brushing against his cock, now at full mast. My muscles clenched greedily at the feel of him. 

“You know,” I whispered against his neck. “Before you, I had a little scare. Had to get tested at the clinic. I was clean, and there’s been no one since. I take the pill to control irregular periods.”

I felt his cock jump in my hand. He blinked. “I’m trying to work out if you’re saying what I think you’re saying. It’s making all the blood leave my brain.” He cleared his throat as I palmed him eagerly, his breathing getting heavier. “Um. We had regular tests in the marines. There was someone, during, but we always wore condoms. So I’m clean. But you don’t have to….” He sucked in a breath as I twisted my wrist just so. “..take my word for it. I’ll wear a condom for as long as you want me to.”

“I trust you, Zach.” I used my free hand to push my underwear aside and rubbed the head of him where I was soft and wet.

Zach closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

He started to stroke me just where we were almost joined. Watching his thumb circle my clit while I rubbed his cock over my entrance made me wetter, more excited. “Zach.”

“I got you, baby girl,” he murmured, his eyes hazy, gazing at me with something that was maybe half lust, half love. “I got you. Let go for me.”

And I did, gasping into his neck as I rode the high. As my muscles clenched and spasmed, I slid myself down on him, feeling him inside me without barriers, and the heft and fit of him was divine.

“Martha,” Zach rasped, his palms hard on my hips. “Holy shit, Martha, you feel so good-”

I picked up the pace, riding him hard, his little grunts and quick inhales stoking the fire, until his hips stuttered under mine.

“Shit. I can’t - I’m coming, honey-”

I clenched hard around him and with a guttural murmur of my name, he spilled inside me, shuddering, his face buried in my neck.

I love you, Zach, I thought. I love you so much.

**********

Story taglist:  @endlessearlgrey  @knittingqueen13 @sarahjkl82-blog @disgruntledspacedad @theflightytemptressadventure @thirstworldproblemss @hopeamarsu @mouthymandalorian @absurdthirst @songsformonkeys @chattychell @the-feckless-wonder @cyantomatos @scorpionerd​ @mrsparknuts @chicken-nugget-puta @oceaninfourhours @buttercup–bee–bee–bee @heatherbel @f0rever15elf @fangirl-of-randomness @skvatnavle @poenariuniverse @booknerdswiftie @dornish-queen @lunaserenade @wigwitch @kindablackenedsuperhero @havenforafrazzledmind @yoohoo307 @sketchy-britt @frankiecatfish @skdubbs @ladygrey03 @pascal-rascal424 @miulola @badassbaker @voteforpedropascal @littlemissthistle @wowtory @the-ginger-hedge-witch @ennuiandthebourgeoisie @tardisfangurl @confusednerd09 @autumnleaves1991-blog @myoxisbroken @pedro4ever @idreamofboobear @reluctantshipper @leonieb @casualpalacebagelrascal @jazzelsaur @fangirl-life @lackofhonor @helloannbananalove  @zaniasky @mrsparknuts @giselatropicana @nymphonet @hopeamarsu  @pedro4ever @88dragon06 @missredherring   @wantingpedropascal @browneyes-djarin @scorpionerd  @kindablackenedsuperhero @pascalsky @pitaparka @myoxisbroken @ezraswife @thism00dymermaidisamess @charityjoy22 @feministmoodymermaid @pedro-pascal-wife @pascalslittlebrat @bison-writes @starlightmornings  @winterboobear77 @cynic-spirit @lunar-lucky @a-skov @sebastianruinedme @motheroftrashbirds @annathewitch  giizhkens-cedar  @luminescentlily @pintsizemama @pascalslittlebrat @the-ginger-hedge-witch​  shsoba05 @silverwolf319 @hnt-escape @myoxisbroken 

Please ask or DM to be added to the taglist! And please tell me if you asked before and I missed it, I’m just a rabid fangirl in the body of a 36 year old.

#zach wellison x ofc #zach wellison fic #brothers and sisters au

[sunflowersteves]

bloody & bruised || a night for galas

mob!bucky barnes x boxer!reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : Bucky had finally asked you to attend an event regarding his mob life, but nothing is as joyous as everything seems. 

author’s note : it’s been while since i posted for this series and i suddenly had some inspiration. i hope you all enjoy. **not my photo

warnings : fluff, kidnapping, rich snobs, smut!!, public sex, teasing, afab!fic, [18+ only], minors do not interact

previous ch. // series m.list // m.list 

Bucky Barnes was not a man to be trifled with. 

Bucky Barnes was a hard-headed upright murderer that held an entire underground criminal system. The NYPD and the FBI had been trying to capture him for years on end, investigation after investigation to always end up falling short. 

He was dangerous, cynical, and deadly. 

He was a man that would send people running in the opposite direction of him. He was a man that controlled the depths of the city with fear; no one dared to trifle with him.

But, James Buchanan Barnes was also a man in love. He was totally and utterly smitten. He would give you tender kisses in the morning and trace patterns on your back as you slept. Steve liked to tease the hell out of him for being able to snatch someone as astonishing as you. He didn’t want to admit it, but Steve was right. 

You had come into his life so fast, and the sweet breath of fresh air you were had surprised him. You were stubborn and took no shit from anyone—even the mobster himself. You were kind and soft. Your laughter was the purest sound he had ever heard. But you were also tough; your fists bloodied and bruised more times than he could count. 

Before you came along, Bucky placed himself deep within his work. He never really had time for anything, so he normally only had one-night stands. The transaction of a quick fuck and then leaving was the best option. There were no strings attached, no grievances, no troubles, just a quick exchange. 

But you, you were so much more. You were absolutely everything. You were the summer breeze that floated through his hair. You were fresh berries that tasted pungent yet sweet as they burst in his mouth. 

You were it for him. His partner that would rest by his side no matter what, if that’s what you wanted anyway. And a part of him hated it. He wanted to push you away, so you would not be exposed to the dangerous life that he lived. But you were worth it. You were worth the risk, always. 

And you had been absolutely stunned by the man. You were an unstoppable force that had your opponents beaten down so easily. You were strong-willed and passionate about the world around you. 

So, to find yourself slowly falling for a man who has most likely done unspeakable things came as a surprise. But, he wasn’t the scary person that everyone deemed him to be, at least not to you. He was sweet, charming, and amazing in bed—too amazing in bed.

What you found interesting, though, is that ever since that night after your match, Bucky hadn’t left your side. For eight months, he’s been high alert. As though at any minute or any second, something would jump out at the two of you. He was always looking back when you’re walking around at night. He would always insist on two bodyguards at your side constantly, even when you were in the boxing ring. 

He knew you were capable. He always tried to reassure you. However, you knew that something was suspicious. He never told you what had tormented him so badly, but he would always refuse when you would ask him what was wrong. 

You had always thought he was just embarrassed by you. You were a girl from the Bronx who knew how to fight, and it always had been an antithesis in your relationships. However, Bucky had always shut your insecurities down and made it up to you in the best way possible. 

You let out a small yawn, “what time is it?”

He smiles slightly at your gruff morning voice before turning to look at the clock. “It’s almost noon.” 

You just hummed and snuggled into his chest even further. He traced small circular patterns up and down your spine, his mind drifting off to think about work. He didn’t want to leave your warm embrace, his heart dreading the idea of leaving the silky sheets and your cold feet resting on his calves. 

“Doll?”

Your eyes flicker up to his before reaching up to give him a sweet yet somber kiss. His arms tightened around you for just a second before a finger rested on your cheek, wiping gently from side to side. 

“Yes?” You mumbled against his lips. 

“Will you accompany me to the gala tonight?”

Your eyes shot up at his question, completely catching you off guard. During your relationship, he never asked you to attend anything that regarded work. He had always said it was too dangerous, even for an infamous boxer. He always said that he just wanted to keep you safe, but still, you knew there was something else at play. 

Your eyes lit up in excitement, “really?”

He nodded, lips curling up into a smile. “Yes, really.” You giggled against his skin and relished in the warmth of it all. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But Steve and Sam will be there the whole time and—” You groaned, interrupting his sentence as he just gave you a knowing look. You shift your arm and rest it on his cheek, his eye fluttering closed and leaning into your touch.

“What’s going on, baby?”

He let out a large sigh and opened his eyes to lock with yours. He knew he couldn’t lie to you, not anymore. You looked at him with puffy cheeks and fluttering eyelashes, knowing that he was done for. 

“Remember that night I took you to my place, and we danced to jazz?” You grin up at him at the memory, your mind becoming fuzzy with adoration from that very long night. “I remember that night very well, love.”

Your smile flattened slightly as you caught the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite figure out. Worry? Fear? “I got texts that night threatening you.” 

Your eyes widened at the profession he gave, not expecting it in the slightest. “From who?” He shakes his head. He shifts in the bed slightly, moving his face, so it practically ghosts yours.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’ve had guards around you this whole time. I’m sorry.”

Your lips curl into a smile, giving him a small peck to tell him you accept his apology. “They’ll have to get through my fists first.”

He chuckled. “Damn right, doll.”

~~

You walked in with Bucky’s arms locked with yours, the stoic nature of the man you were with proceeded to lock onto his face. As you entered the crowd, they had immediately disappeared. They were almost afraid to touch you in fear of Bucky. A little proud smirk rested on your face at the thought of being untouchable. It felt enlightening—it felt addicting.   

The room was crowded with what looked like some of the most elite people you had seen in New York. The ballroom was large; white and gold splashed against the towering columns and swirled together. The chandeliers gleamed the brightest and sparkled throughout the room, creating little stars across the ground. Famous paintings were scattered across the walls, pairing nicely with the poised elegant furniture.

They wore lavish suits and dresses; your attire and Bucky's were matched perfectly. While in the car, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He had you pressed up the limo door and devoured your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive flesh. You just giggled and tried to shove him off of you, you took way too long to get ready, and he wasn’t going to ruin your hair. “Sorry, doll. Jus’ can’t help myself.” And that cocky grin made you want to kiss him even more. 

You took a champagne glass off of a tray and took a sip. Bucky was currently talking to one of his donors, and you were beyond bored. All it was, was a bunch of rich snobs gathered in one room. You knew Bucky hated it as well; he knew how they really thought of him. They always thought that he and his men were just a bunch of criminals that took over the city. But they never mentioned how much he helped people too. 

“So, dear, what do you think? Why should we give to the homeless when it’s their fault they’re there in the first place?”

Your hand immediately tightened around Bucky’s arm. You look over at the old man and the urge to plummet him into the next century was suddenly very tempting. You then purse your lips, your voice loud and boisterous. “People need help, whether it’s their fault or not. If you think otherwise, then you’re a piece of shit person. Simple as that.” The old man and his wife gasped. “Plus, most of the time, it isn’t their fault.”

“Tame your woman, Mr. Barnes.”

Your eyes flicker over towards Bucky to find his eyes already locked onto you. His eyes were full of lust, and his once sparkling eyes were dark and swirling as though an ocean would. He smirks quickly, “Couldn’t even if I tried.” Swirling butterflies burst against your chest; he looked proud. He looked like he could devour you right then and there, but the pride radiated off of him. 

Before you know it, you find yourself backed up against a wall that’s far away from the crowd, and no one would bother you. Sam had shaken his head when he finally found the two of you, and Steve just sighed before saying he needed a drink. 

Bucky’s lips found yours in a heated dance, his mouth swallowing each and every sound you make. His hands gripped your hips tightly. The gruff sounds leaving his throat were heavenly to your ears. “I need you, Bucky. Please,” he didn’t waste a single moment as he shoved your dress up to your hips. 

He let out a string of curses as he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear. “Fuckin’ killing me, doll.” His lips meet yours again, his hand reaching down to feel your slick between his fingers. You were absolutely drenched, and he moaned, the sound vibrating against your lips. 

“Barely even touched you, and you’re already this wet? Fuck, baby girl.” You reach down to feel his hard cock in the confined restraints of his pants suit. He was big. Your hand then rubbed the outline of his member, and you felt him twitch in your hand. 

“God, your cock is so big, Buck.” He pants, eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers dipping into his trousers. “I wanna put my mouth on it, swirl my tongue ‘round those good spots.”

His hands jerked forward and pinned you against the wall, lifting you up becoming flushed against him. “Think you can tease me, hmm? Hasn’t anyone told you not to mess with the big, bad mobster?” You open your mouth to respond but are quickly cut off by him pounding into you. His muscular arm still hung above you, keeping you in just the right place. You were warm and soft; Bucky couldn't get enough. The two of you groaned with each thrust as he filled you fuller than ever. 

“So tight,” he mutters into your ear. You bite your lip to keep you from screaming, his cock twisting and pulling every heavenly sensation. “You’re mine, yeah? You’re fucking mine.” The way he growled, the feral sound leaving his lips was intoxicating. 

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” His tone was firm and feral. Your mind could barely process what he was saying. His other hand grabs your jaw to make you look at him, “I’m yours! I’ll always be yours.”

He pounded even harder into you, the smacking sounds of your body meeting his hips were loud. Your hands clutch his shoulders, your lips repeating his name over and over. “Fuck, Bucky!” He coaxed that spongy spot over and over, his eyes trailing down to watch his cock disappear into your lips. Your walls clench around him. “That’s it, doll. Take my cock.” 

His words alone make you tip over the edge, your body seizing before releasing all of its pleasure. You don’t even care at this point, your screams escaping your mouth as he continues to pound into you. He goes to pull out of you to come, but you stop him. “No. Come in me, please. Wanna feel you for days.” 

The way you sound, so desperate and pleading for him to come, to fill you full. He groans a low sound, his teeth coming down to bite your shoulder. He empties inside you there, coaxing your sweet walls with him. A small content sigh leaves you as you feel some of his cum drip out of your lips. 

You both clean up as best as you can. You were trying to fix your hair while Bucky was trying to get the pre-cum out of his pants. You looked almost as good as new besides the post-sex glow radiating off of the two of you. 

He kisses you, this one sweet and savory like you would vanish if he hadn’t put his lips on yours. You grin, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in a bit more. 

“C’mon. Let’s go back and greet more assh—” Darkness surrounded the whole ballroom as shrieks filled the air. His head whipped around as he tried to make his way through the crowd. “What’s going on?” Bucky shook his head at you, even though you couldn’t see a single thing. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it. 

“Baby, follow me, okay?” He’s holding your hand as he finally finds Sam and Steve. Steve had told them that the whole grid is out, affecting most of Brooklyn. But something didn’t feel right. 

“Something feels off.” Sam agreed, prompting a suggestion to try and fix the power. Something rippled throughout his body and left a pang right in his chest.

“What’s going on?!” Steve tries to calm Bucky down. They knew something wasn’t right,  something felt suspicious. They didn’t know what or how, but it was. Bucky could practically feel it in the air. 

With a sigh of relief, the lights flickered back on. The sweet, soft music started playing again and everyone started to mingle. Bucky felt his shoulders relax as he turned towards you. But then he halted. You weren’t next to him. But you were just there, weren’t you? He had just been tugging you on the arm. He knew you were right there. 

“Doll?” He whipped around, Steve and Sam trying to find you as well. They walked through the whole crowd yelling to make some room. Bucky checks everywhere; the supply closets, the kitchen, and the entire crowd. You were nowhere to be found. You were just… gone. 

~~

Bloody and Bruised: @xoasalxo​ @raven-rust​ @widowbite-legit @purselover2​ @met4no1a​ @t3a-bag​ @stuckysavedmylive​ @gudenuph​

Permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​ @lxdyred​ @ironbabey​

#bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x boxer!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter solider x you #winter soldier x y/n #mobster au #mob au #mobster!au #tw kidnap mention #tw class mention #mavel #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #smut

[spiltscribbles]

Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

.-

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

.-

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius  can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it. 

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year.  Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon  and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one  who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too. 

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

 Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people  had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods  when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself.  “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

.-

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw. 

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally  touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

.-

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

.-

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair. 

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon. 

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.”  His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion. 

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?” 

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter. 

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of  him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

 “You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and  gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #💜rj💜 #SPILT INK

[fruitcoops]

You’ve done a few ace Reg centered fics (which I adore, thank you) what about an aro Reg centered one? Like I know you headcanon him as aroace but there’s not a lot out there for just an aro aspect if you get me. Anyway, do ignore if you don’t vibe with this. I adore your fics and I hope you have a wonderful day ♥️

AAAHHH YES!! I love that people enjoy my aroace Regulus fics! I absolutely vibe with this and had a great time revisiting my favorite runaway snake <3 Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

I

Leo sniffed the air, then leaned down and sniffed Regulus.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Is that you?”

“Is what me?” Regulus looked down at himself, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“That smell.”

He frowned. Aside from taking a shower in the morning instead of at night, he hadn’t changed any part of his routine. Tentatively, he sniffed his shirt. “…I don’t think so?”

“GImme your hand.” Leo reached down and took it before Regulus could protest—he lifted it to his face and made a humming sound of satisfaction. “It is you. I like your hand lotion.”

“Thanks?” Regulus didn’t remember putting any lotion on that morning. It hadn’t been dry enough recently to make his knuckles crack, and ever since he left the Snakes, his blisters weren’t as severe…

A thought struck him as they headed down the next aisle. Soap.

“I’m not wearing hand lotion, but Sirius got new soap for the bathroom. Something with flowers, maybe?”

“Magnolia,” Leo said with a small smile.

“Yeah, something like that. The minty stuff was making Remus sneeze.” Regulus paused. “How do you know what flower it is?”

“Smells like home.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deep again; he had never been to New Orleans, but knowing that only made him want to go more. He laughed under his breath. “Knutty, guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m an aromatic aromantic.”

“Oh my god,” Leo groaned, shoving him away by the forehead as they rounded the corner. “You’re awful.”

“I’m hilarious,” Regulus corrected with a grin.

II

Regulus drummed his hands on the doorjamb as he popped his head into the living room. Nervous energy prickled in his stomach, though it wasn’t nearly as severe as the first time he came out.

“Do you want to join?” Sirius asked around half an Oreo, tucking his legs up. Some sci-fi action movie Regulus had never seen burst in bright colors across the TV screen; one of the Star-somethings, he thought.

“No, I just needed to talk to you. Uh, you know how I’m ace?”

Sirius sat up straighter with concern written all over his face. “Are you okay? Did someone give you shit for it?”

He shook his head and tried to ignore the dryness of his mouth. He loves you. He’ll accept you. Be cool. “No, but I’m also aromantic.”

A smile tilted one side of Sirius’ mouth up. “Merde, I thought it was going to be bad news. That’s great, Reg, thanks for letting me know. I guess I should stop looking for people to set you up with, eh?”

“Yes, please,” Regulus laughed around the clog in his chest. “Okay. Okay, cool. Um, thanks for…being cool about it.” Say ‘cool’ a little more, why don’t you?

Sirius just kept on smiling. “Any time. Anything else you want to talk about?”

“I think that covers it,” he said, clearing his throat. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

III

Regulus’ birthday had never been a big deal, even once Sirius was out of the house and it was just him and his parents. They remembered it, of course, and always wished him an absentminded ‘happy birthday’ when he came out of his room, but it never felt personal. Their gifts were especially detached: some pucks, a new stick, and a watch he would never wear were the most common.

His first birthday away from them was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Sirius organized a surprise party while the Dumais kids teamed up against him in a game of pickup hockey at the park; Regulus nearly cried when he saw the bright streamers and crowd of people that showed up for no reason other than to celebrate him for a day.

He finally fell into bed just before midnight, exhausted and all tingly with happiness. The purple, black, and gray flag on his wall caught the moon coming through his window and he smiled to himself when he saw the toppled pile of birthday cards on the dresser beneath it.

Nobody had given him anything remotely hockey-related, nor had he seen any sign of a watch. A new puzzle from Leo with magnolias on it waited on the floor by his closet; the book series Sirius got him was already in his bookshelf, perfectly filling the last bit of empty space.

There was a gentle knock on the door just before he turned his light off. “You can come in,” he called, suddenly worried. Had something happened in the twenty minutes he had been gone?

Remus stepped in with a shy smile as he fidgeted with a small package wrapped in green paper. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were getting ready for bed.”

“It’s alright.”

“This is for you.” He sat on the end of Regulus’ bed and handed him the package; it was soft, like fabric, but much too small to be clothing. “I was hiding it so you wouldn’t find it on accident and totally forgot to give it to you earlier.”

“Thanks, Remus. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “It’s your birthday. The presents are the best part.”

The best part is being absolutely suffocated by affection from twelve Lions, Regulus thought, though he kept it to himself and picked at the shiny gold ribbon. “Can I open it?”

“Sure thing, birthday boy.”

It certainly felt like fabric when it brushed against Regulus’ fingers and he scooted closer to his bedside lamp as he pulled the wrapping paper away. Green, grey, white and black stood out in blocky stripes against the blue of his bedspread—it was slightly smaller than his ace flag, but just as beautiful.

“It’s—Erin thought you might like it. From the bookstore?” Remus was worrying at the cuff of his sleeve, as if there was any possible way Regulus wouldn’t like it. “It’s the—”

“Aromantic pride flag,” he murmured, tracing the edges and willing his voice not to crack. He swallowed hard and kept it clutched tight in his hand as he turned and wrapped his arms around Remus in a hug. “Thank you.”

Remus seemed surprised, but quickly relaxed and held him close. “Happy birthday, Reg. I’m really glad you like it.”

“Of course I like it,” he scoffed, closing his eyes as a slight prickle built behind them.

“I’m really glad you came to stay with us,” Remus said when Regulus finally pulled away. “It’s been awesome getting to know you.”

Regulus cracked a smile. “Ditto. Today was incredible, by the way.”

The clock on his nightstand beeped as midnight struck and Remus raised his eyebrows. “Oof, sorry for keeping you up.”

“Are you kidding?” Regulus laughed. “I’m a night owl. I’ll be up for ages.”

“Uh-huh, sure you will.” Remus shook his head as Regulus stifled a yawn, then stood and headed back toward the door. “Sleep tight, Reg.”

“You, too.”

Regulus curled up under the covers with the flag’s smooth fabric tucked against his face and the scent of magnolia soap winding around him. Happy birthday to me, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

[joaquinwhorres]

Give Thanks (Bucky Barnes x OC)

SUMMARY ››››› Bucky Barnes has a list of names--amends he needs to make. When he gets to M. & L. Kaminski, he finds the amends process a bit more...difficult than it should be. 

WORD COUNT ››››› 1,700-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› Oh hey, look at me jumping on that Falcon and the Winter Soldier trend. 

Bucky stood outside of the door, staring at the wreath of brightly colored fabric leaves, a small wooden sign hanging in the center with the words Give Thanks looping across it. 

He doubted there was going to be much thankfulness for him on the other side of the door. 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

This was supposed to be getting easier. Dr. Raynor told him it would get easier. 

But for someone who hated bullshit so much, she really spent far too much time talking out of her ass. Because this wasn't easy. 

Easy would be surreptitiously wiring a million dollars into each of their bank accounts from the HYDRA accounts he still had access to.

Easy would be taking out anyone who had been involved in the decision to give him the order. 

Easy would be breaking the damn rules. 

The rules aren't meant to make your life easy, James. They're meant to disconnect you from the Winter Soldier. That's the whole point of making amends, isn't it? 

He'd give anything to get her damn voice out of his head. 

Bucky propelled himself up the front porch steps before he could change his mind. Like he had last yesterday. 

He rapped on the front door, accidentally knocking the wreath sideways as he went to pull his hand away. Instinctively, he reached out to right it, centering the sign and taking his hands away slowly to avoid a repeat of the situation. Bucky checked over his shoulder, half expecting Sam's stupid little robot to Zoom into view with Sam cackling and making some dumb quip about metal butterfingers. But Redwing wasn't there. The only other person outside was an old man mowing his lawn in a dingy white undershirt and grey sweatshorts. Bucky's lip curled in disgust before turning back to the door--the sound of locks clicking out of place putting him on alert. 

"Hello?" 

Bucky blinked, his eyes meeting those of the woman before him. Her eyes were striking, pinning him to the spot and pushing all semblance of thought out of his head. They were a light brown--taupe almost, standing out brightly in contrast to her long, full eyelashes. 

"Can I help you?"

Bucky blinked, nodding at her. Right. He was here for a reason. Not to stand like some teenage boy who'd just seen the girl next door for the first time. 

"I'm looking for Mina Kaminski."

"You found her." 

He blanched. "You're Mina Kaminski?" 

The look of vague curiosity that had been gracing features markedly shifted into a look of annoyance. "Believe it or not, people who look like me aren't all named Singh or Patel" 

Fuck this. He needed to get out of here. There was no way he could have this conversation now. 

"Still want to talk to me?" She asked, eyebrows arched and arms folded across her chest. 

No. 

Sam's laughter echoed in his head, as if he'd been here to witness the exchange. And that's why he stayed. Out of spite. 

He nodded. "My name is James "Bucky" Barnes and--"

"Wait a second," she held out a hand and raised an eyebrow on him. He did as she asked, stopping mid-sentence with a sinking feeling in his gut. "Bucky Barnes as in Captain America and Bucky Barnes?"

He nodded, resigned to the fact that this was going to be his worst attempt at amends yet. "Yeah." 

"Well," she breathed, dropping her arms. "If I'd known I was meeting an Avenger at my door, I might have put on some pants." 

His eyes ran down from her face, noticing for the first time that she wore a dressing robe that barely swept the tops of her knees. Her bare knees.

His mouth opened as if he had even the faintest clue how to respond to this and then his jaw moved up and down for a new second as if the motion of talking would bring words. While it didn't muster an apology or some other decent thing to say, he did manage to utter a single word: "Shit."

She snorted at the reaction before smiling for the first time and shaking out her long dark hair, waves tousled together from having probably just woken up. "If you want to come in and wait, I'll go get changed."

He shook his head. "I can wait out here."

She was still smiling. Probably because she realized he was far more pathetic up close. "Suit yourself, but there's eggs inside."

"I'm good," he said, forcing himself to give a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. She nodded, leaving the door open behind her as she disappeared inside the house--as if he'd change his mind.

He should leave right now. Turn around and come back a different day when he could at least function like a mostly human being. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. 

The quick, sharp sound of pattering bare feet broke his stream of thought, as another girl came to the door, standing before him with her hands on her hips. "We were having breakfast, you know," the girl announced, her voice dripping with sass. "Now we have to wait until she's done talking to you. And I'm starving." 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be….not talking to strangers?"

"Shouldn't you be eating breakfast?" she countered.

"It's ten in the morning; I ate already."

"We were supposed to have breakfast an hour ago. But Ravi--"

"Rocio, leave Bucky Barnes alone," Mina's voice called from elsewhere. 

Before he could fully process how odd it was for him to use his name, the little girl's hands dropped from her hips and she stared up at him, mouth agape and eyes comically wide. 

"You're Bucky Barnes?" she asked, her small voice awed. 

He nodded with a deep sigh and another forced smile. 

"What happened to your hair?"

"Got a haircut," he shrugged.

She furrowed her brow at him, her little eyes peering intently at his face. He wasn't sure the last time someone had looked him in the eyes this long. Nobody except Steve had looked him in the eyes since he made it out. The corner of his mouth twitched up. She nodded at him, having composed herself so her little face was serious once more. "I like this better."

"Thanks." He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. He didn't even really try. 

A thought seemed to hit her, lighting up her whole face with excitement. "Wait right here. Don't move. Promise."  He nodded again and she raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a stern look. 

"I promise," he said, clearly stating each word.

She nodded at him. "Ok. Good." And then she turned and ran into the house, her feet making far more sound than they should for someone of her size.

Mina reappeared shortly thereafter with a faint smile on her lips, dressed in a copper colored sweater and jeans. "Sorry. You're her favorite."

"She's cute." 

What an idiotic thing to say. 

"Wish I could take credit," Mina said, shaking her head. "She's my sister's. I'm just the babysitter on duty."

There were some more sounds of scampering and Rocio was back at the door wearing a long black satin glove, reaching about halfway up her bicep. There were lines streaked across it in gold marker to make it look like it was made of metal plates. 

"I made an arm like yours!" she announced, almost whacking Mina in the stomach as she extended her arm out for him to see. 

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd seen Halloween costumes for sale and shirts with one of the sleeves modeled after his arm, and pictures of guys with an arm wrapped in tinfoil. All of them had been with his old arm--his silver one with the red star. The arm that belonged to Him. An arm made to invoke fear. 

This was the arm of a protector. 

She deserved more of a reaction than a small, breathy, "Wow." 

"Will you sign it?" Her eyes got even bigger if possible, and Mina started to shake her head, bending over to talk to the little girl,  but Bucky stopped her. 

"You got a marker?"

"I'll go find one!" Rocio disappeared again, leaving him and Mina alone on the doorstep. She was closer this time, and he could hear her talking to herself and rustling through different drawers. 

Mina turned her attention from her niece back onto Bucky. "So, why is Bucky Barnes on my doorstep?"

"I uh--when does your sister get home?" he asked, eyes focused in the direction of Rocio's sounds. He swallowed, tearing his eyes away and back up to hers. "I should probably tell both of you...together."

The playful amusement that had been on her face disappeared as she stared at him, as if trying to see inside his head. Like she would want to see what was inside of his head. 

"She'll be here around three." 

He nodded, saved from a response by Rocio's re-appearance, waving a silver sharpie in the air. She offered it to him, and he plucked it out of her hand, taking hold of her toothpick of an arm in one hand and signing his name on the inside of her bicep. Where she could hide the signature if she wanted to.

Bucky handed the marker back to her as Rocio held her arm out, trying to catch sight of his name. 

"Rocio," Mina prodded, gently. 

"Thank you!"  she chirped, before turning and literally skipping back inside. "Ravi--look!"

He liked her.

"That was really kind of you," Mina said, warmly. "I think you just made her year." 

He shrugged. 

"Although, I have a feeling that this is all she's going to talk about for the next week," Mina sighed, shaking her head. "Anyway, Leela will be back around three if you want to come back then and share whatever secret serious news is it that you need to tell us together." Her voice was teasing, and Bucky's mouth lifted into a smirk.

"I'll be back then." 

"Great," she smiled politely. "See you then." 

He nodded, wishing her goodbye before turning down the stairs.

So much for getting easier.

#bucky barnes #fatws #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x f!oc #bucky barnes x desi!oc #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fatws fic #marvel #marvel fic #avengers #avengers fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #(<< eventually) #winter soldier #tfatws

[babbushka]

please can i have 9 from the nsfw prompts with pale please;)

2.2k, NSFW (rough sex at the dinner table, naked woman clothed man spanking, PIV, fingering, dirty talk)

The first time you sigh, Pale doesn’t think anything of it. You sighed sometimes, for lots of different reasons. Not everything had to fuckin’ mean something. It was a lovely evening, Pale was home early from work, you had the day off so he gave you some money so you could pamper yourself from head to toe, he cooked up a big delicious dinner -- if he says so himself, which he does -- and he even turned on the stereo set to play some soft music while you both ate.

The second time you sigh, Pale debates bringing it up. But then he figures nah, you’re the type of woman that says what’s on her mind. You don’t dilly dally around your opinions like some of these other broads do, trying to get their men to guess at what’s botherin’ them. No, that isn’t your style, not usually anyway.

“Alright,” He levels you a look, setting his fork down on the third time that you sigh, eventually giving into the bait and asking, “What’s the fuckin’ matter with you?”

Your eyes widen at the sharpness of his voice, and it’s then that Pale realizes maybe you didn’t know you were makin’ all them huffing puffing sounds as you pushed your dinner around your plate.

“Nothin’!” You frown, shruggin’ with one of your shoulders in that way of yours that meant something was definitely wrong. “Nothin’s the matter. It’s just...”

“Just what, c’mon, spit it out sweetheart you know I can handle it whatever it is.” Pale steels himself for something disastrous, holds his breath.

“You didn’t fuck me this morning.” You announce, sounding halfway between sad and annoyed, and if Pale had been chewing anything, he’d be choking.

“What?” He stares at you with a frown, and you shrug again, waving your hand around, sounding too much like your feelings are hurt when you explain;

“This morning. You left, without wakin’ me up, you know. Without givin’ me a good morning.”

Pale wracks his brain, because that didn’t sound right. That didn’t sound like Pale, not fuckin’ you or at the very least makin’ out with your cunt before he had to go to work. But then, oh right, he remembers that he had to leave too early, and wanted to be sweet to you for once, wanted to let you get your rest. Especially because,

“The last time I woke you up on your day off, you threatened to scratch my eyes out with your nails.” He reminds you, pointing the fork in your direction, belatedly noticing, “Which look real good by the way, I like that color.”

“Thank you I got them done before lunch, I thought I’d try somethin’ new out.” You brighten up for a moment, holding your hand out properly for him to take a good look at, before sighing again, “But you didn’t fuck me, and I’ve been thinkin’ about it all day.”

Raising your brows at him from across the table, he catches the desperation in your voice. That was the edge he had heard: you were hungry, but not for dinner.

“Oh, I see.” He pushes himself back from the table then, real slow-like.

It’s an invitation, one that you take immediately. Standing up from your chair, your hand trails along the table-cloth as you round the corner and settle yourself between his spread legs. From here, Pale can appreciate the tight, short dress you’ve got on, the gold chain around your throat, the diamonds in your ears. You look like a million’ fuckin’ bucks, and he’s hard in his pleated trousers because you’re all his.

“Do you?” You whisper, your voice gone all sultry as you bite at your lip. “Do you really? Because it’s real mean to make a girl wait all day long, especially when she looks like this.”

Tantalizingly slowly, you reach behind yourself and grasp at the little zipper that holds your dress up, tugging it down down down, the dress loosenin’ around your body and fallin’ to the floor as it goes.

“Are you asking me to fuck you stupid right here?” Pale’s gaze immediately goes to your breasts, his hands rushin’ up to give them a firm squeeze, thumbs rubbin’ circles over your nipples as they stiffen against the cool night air, “Is that it?”

“I’m not askin’.” Your eyes glint.

With one quick movement, Pale’s surging up to kiss you, hot and heavy right on your mouth, messing up your pretty lipstick, smudging and smearing it all around. And then as quickly as he’s there, he’s pulling away, turning you around and bending you over the table at a nice clean spot that doesn’t have any dishes, kickin’ your feet apart.

He doesn’t waste time shoving one of his hands between your legs, because of course you ain’t wearin’ any panties, of course not -- why would you when it’s just the two of you here in his apartment?

“Christ look at how wet you are baby, been wet for me all fuckin’ day huh? Did you touch yourself and think of me? Think of how I can do it so much better for you?” He drapes his body over you, relishes in the way your ass is already pressing against the hard line of his cock in his trousers.

Pushing his pointer and middle finger all the way up into your pussy, it’s all you can do to gasp out a moan and clutch at the tablecloth. He wishes he could watch the way his fingers disappear into you, but he’s glued to your back and biting sucking licking at your exposed shoulder, drinking in the sound of your moans and that’s good enough for now.

“Yes!” You push your hips back back back against his hand, grinding down as they crook and curl up inside you, searching for that special spot that has stars dancing behind your eyelids, “Fuck I love your fingers, you make me feel so good Pale.”

“My little slut can’t go one day without somethin’ up her cunt, ain’t that right. I’m sorry sweetheart, I shoulda known better, shoulda given you somethin’ to hold you over ‘til I came back. But I’m here now, I’ll take care of this pussy just the way you need.” With his other hand, Pale fumbles around with his belt buckle, wrenching it open so that he can yank down his zipper and fish out his cock.

“Please! It’s no fun comin’ when you ain’t here.” You moan as he slips in his ring finger too, the stretch of all three making your knees turn in, your thighs shake.

“That’s what I like to hear baby, spread your fuckin’ legs for me.” Pale grunts, and you do as he says, knowing you’ll get the best fucking of your life for it -- because that’s what every time you have sex with Pale feels like.

Barely the tip is in before you’re already having to take deep breaths, having to steady yourself and open up your hips, because of how fucking huge his cock is. You’d been together for damn near two years, and it still always came as a surprise. He rubs the head of his cock through your soaked folds, and even though he fingered you open, it’s still an effort to thrust himself in, his cock so big that if you didn’t know you could take it, you might panic.

“Shit you’re tight, damn, relax for me, one day without my dick ain’t an eternity, your pussy remembers, just relax.” He’s right there, draped over your back again, his mouth right on your ear as he coaxes you and soothes you, and he’s right, even though it doesn’t feel like it.

“It feels like an eternity! Oh fuck, yes Pale, keep goin’ please, please I want more.” You moan when your body listens, when you let your hips widen, your legs spreading even further, thighs already shaking and toes already curling as he manages to push in deep deep deep -- bottoming out with only a few more thrusts.

And then, once it’s in, Pale’s pulling out -- thrusting back into you so hard that the sound of your moan is swallowed by the scrape of the table against the floor, as he builds up a brutal rhythm that has you holding on for dear life, your mouth dropped open from pleasure.

“Got you trained for my cock don’t I? Ruined you for everythin’ else, just my girl. Goddamn you’re beautiful. You know I don’t get to see your back all that fuckin’ often?” With his fingers pulled out of your pussy, Pale keeps one hand on your hip to steady you, and slaps your ass hard with the other one, the sound of sweaty skin smacking together going straight to his cock.

“Yeah ‘cause I’m always layin’ on it.” You laugh brightly, the tail end of it dissolving into a throaty moan that has Pale sweating in his fuckin’ dress shirt, has him biting down against your shoulder, marking you up.

“When’s the last time I told you you’re perfect?” He grunts as he thrusts into you hard hard hard, fast and steady, his cock pulling out and then slamming right back in, slapping your ass again so hard that you’re keening, that you’re shouting out his name.

“Pale! Tell me again anyway -- oh! Oh right there, fuck, oh my god!” Your shoulders jolt and shiver, because he’s found the spot his fingers had missed, and he’s got to press you back down onto the table when you try and snap up from the surprise of it.

“That’s it baby feel how deep I am inside of you, I’ll treat you right, make you come so hard.” Pale pets back your hair as he grinds his cock into your pussy, his dick hard and throbbing inside the tight clutch of your velvety walls.

You’re getting fucked so hard that your feet are barely on the floor anymore, legs kicking up from the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so full.

“Yes!” You moan, clenching and squeezing around him, wanting to give as good as you get, “Yesyesyes, more Pale, harder I can take it.”

“That’s fuckin’ right you can, my best girl, fuck, fuck you’re so good on my cock, I could live here, right inside this pretty pussy that’s all for me, feelin’ you come again and again. You want that? Want to be my little cockwarmin’ slut forever?” He grunts, punctuating his sentences with slaps to your ass, licking up your cheeks where tears have spilled over, your chest heaving against the table, begging for more.

“Yes!” You keep pushing back against him, chasing the feeling, hot pleasure coiling up inside your stomach, rising on the edge of tipping over, you’re so close, just a little more, that’s all you’ll need -- and Pale knows it.

“Gonna come all over me?” He asks, but it’s more of a plea, and he kisses at your throat as he fucks you through your tears.

“Y-yes!” Your body is pinching up then, and you’re hiccuping around a moan, and your pussy throbs and pulses around him as you shout, “Oh fuckfuckfuck -- !”

“Attagirl.” Pale doesn’t let up even as you come, even as the slick drips down your thighs, soaks into his trousers. The hand that’s resting on your hip reaches around and toys with your swollen clit, making you whine out his name, “That’s okay baby keep sayin’ my name, let the neighbors know who’s treatin’ you right.”

“Pale...! Pale oh -- oh I’m --!” You shudder again, whole body goin’ through it, as pleasure crashes through you hard, hard enough to pull Pale over the edge too, and he presses you against the table a little more forcefully under the weight of his own body going limp on top of you.

After a moment, when you’ve both had the chance to catch your breath, he blindly reaches behind him until his hand manages to grasp his chair, and then he’s sitting back down onto it, taking you with him.

You look like a fucking mess, completely glassy-eyed and smiling like the cat that got the damn cream, and Pale doesn’t want you anywhere or anyway else all night, saying as much, “You better just sit here for the rest of the night.”

“Oh yeah?” You giggle, love drunk in the best way, your bones like jello.

“Yeah, it’s safer here.” He kisses your cheek, wishes he had a cigarette to light up. He could go get one from his jacket pocket, but then he’d have to get up, and there’s no fucking way he’s doing that.

“Okay. But my dinner’s over there.” You protest, settling firmly on his cock that’s still hard, still pumping you full of his load.

“Yeah well, shoulda fuckin’ thought about that before you decided to go and be a brat.” Pale sighs, making you lightly swat at his chest. “Alright alright alright, you can have some of mine.”

Brightening up at that, you reach for his fork that had gotten all jostled in the meanwhile, and reach out to pluck something off his plate, being nice enough to let him have the first bite, before eating the rest.

“And then when we’re done eatin’, I’ll fuck you again. Ya know, for good measure.” Pale licks across his teeth, making you grin, because as far as you’re concerned, he’s got a whole day to make up for.

-----------------------------------

-----------------------------------

Tagging some Pale loving friends!

#adam driver fanfic #adcu #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver burn this #pale smut #pale imagine #jimmy pale #my writing