#and who could believe it. for the first time i am UNDER drabble word count

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

e1 sausage with 73 for the ask game?

73-easier by the crane wives

i'm at a loss for better plans/'cause this is all i have/so i'll just close my eyes and try/to pretend/that it gets easier

He's loosing track of time. Or more accurately he'd lost track of time ages ago. Sausage doesn't know how long he's been at this, but he knows it has to have been a while now. No one says anything to him, but when he goes back now, they look at him strange. He knows he doesn't look like the Sausage they know anymore, he knows his age must be showing. But he has to keep going, has to keep trying, somehow, someway, there's a way Pearl can be saved. He just needs one more shot.

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...

"Who did this to you?"

Cue protective instincts and sexiness

hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.

Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”

Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.

It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.

“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.

This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”

You glance at him sideways. “How so?”

Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.

“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.

Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.

“Why? It’s true.”

John Price

“Who did this?”

“Why do you care so much, John?”

You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.

“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.

“I don’t know why,” you murmur.

“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.

Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.

‘Tell me who did this?”

“And do that what?”

“What the fuck I want to them, love.”

“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.

But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.

“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.

“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.

Yes. Close enough to kiss.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.

His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.

No one stops him. No one glances his way.

And why should they?

He is a man made fury.

There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.

To him, this is a failure.

He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.

The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.

You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.

Fucking hell.

“Out,” barks Simon.

The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Simon—”

“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.

“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.

Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.

Who did this?

The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.

All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.

That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.

But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.

He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.

But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.

You are not his.

Even if he wants to be.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @heeheehoohoohahahihi @eternallyvenus @burn1ngw00d @taysarchive

[tightjeansjavi]

And They Were Roommates | drabble

“hazy shades of you” aka: weed…idk

A/N: when I tell you that these three have been living in my head rent fucking free…💀 there are so many fun and smutty scenarios that I can do for them and it’s so much fun! Big kisses for @syd-djarin for another BEAUTIFUL moodboard, and @sinsofsummers for betaing 💗

word count: 1.1k

Summary: Joel and Logan take care of you on the couch after they ✨beat✨ your pussy 🫶🏻

Pairing | Joel Miller x Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: smut, pussy pronouns, m/m, mmf, language, throuple, dubious consent given the use of marijuana, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

The wet sound of lips meeting in a chaste kiss echo behind you. The couch pillows have found their way to the floor in a smashed down heap, and you’re unsure where your discarded panties ended up…but your hunch leads you to believe that Logan secretly stashed them away in the back pocket of his jeans (for safekeeping, obviously).

Your thighs feel sticky, glued together with perspiration, and the remnants of Joel and Logan painting your skin in ropes of their seed, marking you, as always.

“Think she’s up for round five?” Logan murmurs against Joel’s lips, nipping playfully at the lower one, catching the soft skin and tugging—gently, earning an appreciative growl from the other man.

“Mmm…ain’t too sure about that, Howlett. Think she’s pretty fuckin’ beat.” He cards his fingers through Logan’s hair, twisting them through the endearing cowlicks that resemble cat ears, and tugs him in further—always yearning for more.

“You guys beat my pussy like it was your personal fucking mission. I can still feel her pulsing, and I’m not even sure if I have a clit attached to my body anymore.” You hoarsely joke, leaning forward from your spot between the two men on the couch to grab your jar of weed and rolling papers.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart.” Logan says teasingly, and curves his hand around Joel’s hip, pulling him into his lap with ease. “S’fine by us if you need a break. I think we can keep ourselves occupied.”

“Lemme roll this real quick, and then by the time I’m done, I’ll be ready for another poundin.’” You glance over your shoulder briefly at your men, a smile playing on your lips at the sight of them indulging in pleasure freely; it warms your heart and sends a spark shooting from the top of your spine, settling deep between your thighs.

“Mmm…” The Wolverine hums in appreciation, lulling his head to the side to give Joel easier access to his neck, and so that he could watch you with a lazy grin plastered on his flushed face. “Take your time, babygirl. Miller here is just gonna keep acting like a cock thirsty slut, anyway. And who could blame—”

“Yeah? That’s what I am?” Joel said with a snort under his breath, nudging Logan’s pulse point with the tip of his prominent nose before he pulled back slowly so he could look at his face.

“That’s right, bub.” He chuckles and diverts his gaze back to his lover straddling his hips, leaking cocks pressed together in this position, “ya heard me the first time, didn’t ya?” His brows rose suggestively, and his eyes drifted southwards.

“As if you don’t want me to shove my cock down that pretty throat of yours again, baby.” Joel rasped, closing the small gap between him and Logan with a searing kiss and trailed his fingers from his hair down to the bristle on his jaw, tilting his head upwards with the back of his knuckles. He rolled his hips forwards, easing the building tension between them.

“Fuck.” Logan sighs into the kiss, tightening his grip around Joel’s hip, nails bruising the skin there. “Thas’ it. Keep doing that.”

“Like this?” Joel rolls his hips again, experimenting with this new position freely, and he feels his ego swell from Logan’s unconditional praise falling from his lips between kisses.

“Yeah, bub. That’s perfect. Fucking—perfect. Gonna make me cum…again.” He growls.

“Goddamn. Y’all are fuckin’ nasty.” You chide playfully, squeezing your thighs together to try and relieve the building tension—those motherfuckers.

Your fingers were trembling by the time you finished rolling your joint, and just as you were reaching for the lighter along the coffee table, two pairs of hands were caressing you and easing your back against the couch.

“Boys, please.” You pleaded, “let me relax for five minutes, okay?”

Your lips pucker around the joint tucked there safely, but it dips down when you feel Joel’s lips brush against your neck on one side, and Logan’s following suit on the other.

“Babygirl, you are relaxing, see?” Logan says with a warm chuckle. “Let us take care of ya for a little, okay? We’ll be nice and gentle with her.” His eyes flick down to your pussy fondly, his fingers flexing in low-energy restraint.

Simultaneously, Joel’s lips trail down the expanse of your throat, kissing along your collarbone until you feel the hot press of his tongue lathing against your bare nipple, and one hand drifting down between your thighs, gently prying them apart at his leisure. His hand wraps around the meat of your thigh, gently draping it across his lap. “Baby, Logan and I jus’ can’t help it. We always wanna play with you.”

“Fuck me.” You let out a sigh through your nose, feeling your back melt further into the couch when Logan drapes your other thigh across his lap, exposing you completely to their wandering hands. “Just not too much, okay? She really did take a serious beating by you both.”

“Oh, honey…we know.” Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head when you naturally lean into him. “Just some gentle pets is what we’re gonna give her. Ain’t that right, bub?”

“Mhm. Nothing but the best for our girl and her pretty, bruised pussy. We’re gonna take extra good care of her.”

“God, I don’t know what I did to deserve you both, but I love you, seriously. Mind grabbing the light for me while you’re at it?” You gestured to the forgotten lighter on the table, and Logan was already reaching for it with his free hand. He pressed down on the spark wheel to ignite the flame, bringing it to the unlit end of your joint with ease.

The gesture was inherently intimate;your eyes met and you shifted closer towards him just as Joel’s fingers brush through the tuft of curls, playing with them endearingly.

You took a sharp inhale of smoke, holding it in your mouth as Logan leaned in and kissed you deeply, inhaling the smoke at the same time while his fingers dip down, spreading your inner lips open slowly.

“She’s so pretty, ain’t she?” Joel murmurs in awe when his eyes focus intently at the way that your pussy pulsed from even the lightest touches. His fingers had barely touched your sensitive clit, and you were already lurching forward, whimpering pathetically into Logan’s lips.

“The prettiest.” Logan hummed in agreement.

And for the next hour, and well after the joint that was pursed prettily between your lips had been enjoyed between the three of you, your boyfriends continued to gently tend to you, and your pussy. Coaxing orgasm after orgasm washing over you with just their fingers alone, and creating an even bigger mess between your thighs. And well, good dogs always lick their bowl clean, ain’t that right, bub?

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[zealoushound]

Give An Old Country Boy A Chance

Summary: While waiting for his breakfast in the drive-thru line Sy becomes smitten for the stranger in the car behind him. What would happen if he paid for her breakfast, and slipped her his number?

FYI this is the first story/drabble that I’ve posted in like two years so go easy on me lol. If you like it let me know and share. THANK YOU!!

Word Count: 900

Warnings: Fluffier than a cloud under a baby cherub the day before Valentine’s Day. This was dreamt up from waiting in line behind a hot guy at McDonald’s lol.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THE STORY! Do not copy any portion of my material to claim as your own. Do not repost my work, or any portions of my work on any site and claim it as your own.

~*~

“Alright, I have you for three bacon, sausage and egg wraps and a venti black coffee. Is that all for you today?” The barista questioned politely.

“Yes, I believe so.”

If the person speaking from the screen told Sy his total but he didn’t hear it.

The bright glint of 7 am sunshine reflected off of the black suburban pulling in behind him in his side mirror, pulling his gaze away from the menu board.

Tilting his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, he peered over the top of the frame to see a woman who was casually scrolling her phone. He watched the most beautiful smile he’d seen in a long time spread across her face.

The car at the window departed causing the other vehicles to move to their new places in line.

Taking his spot, two cars down from the window, Sy thought to himself, “now how do I get her to notice me?”

He looked back as she was ordering.

“Good morning, can I take your order?” Hard to miss the crisp, metallic loudness of a drive thru speaker.

“Good morning! Yes I’d like a large iced white chocolate mocha and…” She was chipper. Was she always a morning person? Would be his polar opposite, but he might not mind that. Her voice had a sing songy lilt to it, an upwards spring that could melt any man’s heart.

“I love her.” Sy muttered to himself.

In his distracted trance, he missed the next car leaving and was now only one car away. He knew he had to act fast before it was too late.

Taking out a pen from the breast pocket of his tattered, old flannel shirt, he wrote his number on the back of yesterday’s McDonald’s receipt that he’d mindlessly thrown into the passenger's seat. He scribbled down a note with his name.

The car ahead of him pulled away just as Sy pulled his wallet out of the console. His nerves began to saddle up next to him.

“Good morning! That’ll be $26.19.” The cashier greeted him with a beaming smile.

“Mornin' friend. I was wonderin’, could you do me a favor?” Sy took another look in the side mirror.

“That depends on the favor,” the cashier said playfully, giving Sy a wink.

“Well,” Sy chuckled, “I can’t say I’m not flattered,” he handed the cashier his card and the folded over receipt, “but, I was going to ask if you would put that lovely ladies order on my tab. And would you give her that for me? She’s absolutely breath takin’.”

“Awwww honey, of course I will! Ooh! I love a meet cute!” Running his card for both orders they tucked the note just under the register so it wouldn’t blow away as they handed out Sy’s order. “Now if yall get married, I wanna be invited to the wedding, you hear?”

“You got it, pal!” Sy beamed at the thought of their wedding.

“Honey, with those eyes, and that smile… mm. I will definitely let her know what she would be missing out on!”

Sy laughed and thanked them as he drove up to the stop sign.

He looked back to see her at the window. He saw them talking. Sy watched, holding his breath in anticipation as the cashier handed out the note. The beautiful stranger looked down, reading the note and smiled.

She looked at Sy's truck.

They made eye contact.

Sy nodded a greeting, holding out two fingers in a wave. A charming smile peaked from behind his beard.

She smiled, mouthed out a “thank you… but,” and held up her left hand.

Sy raised his chin in a half nod of acknowledgement. He kept smiling, however. With a bittersweet expression on their face, the cashier's shoulders slumped.

Sy waved a respectful goodbye, then looked to the street ahead.

They handed out her order, joking playfully, albeit still feeling a bit defeated.

“No offense to your hubby, but that was not how this romance was supposed to play out.” The woman couldn’t help but laugh. “This was supposed to be like a Hallmark movie.”

Sy’s old truck rumbled away from the stop sign.

“Well, you know some love stories have a big plot twist,” the woman questioned.

“Yeah?” The cashier seemed puzzled as she reached for her phone.

She unlocked her phone, swiped off TikTok and went to her photos.

“This is from yesterday, at my best friend's birthday party.” Showing the barista a picture of herself, a woman holding a little boy probably about three years old, and two other men in front of a table of presents. One of the men looked especially familiar.

“His name is Sy. We met 8 years ago today in line at a drive-thru back in my hometown. He had paid for my lunch and left his number on the receipt. We’ve been married for five years now.”

She smiled the whole time she told the story, rubbing the paper in her hand with her thumb fondly. The cashier was almost in tears, clutching their apron to their chest.

“Awwwww! That is so sweet! May I ask, what did his note say?”

“The same thing it said 8 years ago,” she smiled. “The same thing it says everytime I’m fortunate enough to be able to get in line behind him.”

‘Give an old country boy a chance? Sy 327-4412’

[namjoonscoffeeshop]

Wishing It Weren't True|Drabble

A part of DEEP series ✧ Pairing: Yoongi x reader ✧ warning(s): explicit language ✧ word count: 462 ✧ Song: No One Noticed, The Marias a/n: I want to apologize for being gone for so long, I needed some time to myself. After trying to write again I instead decided to release a drabble of yoongi's pov, there has been many people trying to understand him and some believe he doesn't love her. these results of confused thoughts is exactly what I wanted, I wanted him to be a confusing character someone who got under your skin making you angry/frustrated/annoyed and also made butterflies in your tummy appear. enjoy! sorry for any misspelled words. I didn't proofread it. also, good luck to everyone who will try to get tickets to see hobi tmr. index | askme!

"then that's all I want, I don't want our friendship anymore just sex, that's all you like or am I wrong!" He leans against the headrest of the sofa, her words stabbing at his conscious,  cursing himself for everything that happened after, how could he have not controlled himself "you should've left asshole not...shit!" pulling out he box of cigarettes from his pocket. 

"is this what you want? you want me to find you only when I need my dick wet?"  

"why did I talk to her like that" placing the box down on the table he lays down instead. He fell asleep on the couch that day, and the next day, and the next. until the first day of classes came. looking at his phone there were messages from everyone but her. 

he sat quietly as he reaccessed everything that happened, there was something that bothered him. you not denying his claims, and telling him that you misspoke and didn't just want him for sex.

y/n didn't make it easy for him to ignore her, ditching class and especially with him, let's not forget how she had him in her apartment without him knowing. yoongi's blood boiled as he thought of all the bad things that could've happened, how vulnerable and stupid she is to trust him again. 

Yoongi tried everything to get her to just forget about jihye and what had happened but she was stubborn. He understood why she was angry, he just didn't understand why she couldn't move on from it. 

it was nothing to him. 

Yoongi began to wish it wasn't true, what she said to him that day. but the routine then began, at first he would keep his distance from her, but she'd appear at his door step and they'd have sex. he'd go over to try and talk to her but it always ended up the same way. 

at one point they went two days without seeing one another and the mere absences of her brought him to her door step. just wanting to see her, catching a glimpse of her was enough for him. 

if all she truly wanted was his body then he didn't mind, he'd do anything for her. 

At her place she'd get up and leave after the deed, and he'd wait to hear the water start in the shower to leave. if there was one thing he didn't want her to feel was that he, just like her only wanted the sex. at his place she'd stick around, waiting for him to kick her out but he didn't. he'd lay in bed with her, twirling his finger on a strand of her hair or they'd lay in each others arms until someone fell asleep. usually it was him. 

After a while their relationship had returned to normal, sort of. at least they weren't going at it like rabbits every time they were alone in a enclosed place. they could have a conversation.  

@baechugff @thetaehyungstan @yoongibaybee @gimeow @pjmsneverland @eissenheimer @taetaechim7 @acquiescence804 @seoullove96 @waitaminswife @keshiadeija @gaby-93 @amarawayne @ykkjm @ot72025 @joonie1213 @vonvi-blog , @benyhime

[egcdeath]

okay but imagine frankie stressing out about taking his little girl to the father daughter dance and the reader has to calm him down and assure him he’s gonna do great.

pairing: frankie morales x reader

summary: frankie has some concerns before his first father-daughter dance.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: insecurities about parenting, very light angst, mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, lightly edited

author's note: frankie my beloved!!! i can't believe i didn’t write for him sooner. i'm also taking drabble requests for all pedro characters right now! just drop it in my inbox and i'll try to crank something out :-)

“Say cheese!” you directed, grinning as your daughter flashed her newly grown-in teeth and clung onto her father’s black dress slacks. Frankie looked just as pleased as he squatted down next to your ecstatic daughter, her excited energy clearly infectiously spreading to her parents. 

“You guys are just precious,” you gushed before lowering your camera, pleased with the boatload of pictures you’d taken of your two favorite people in the world. “You ready to go, conejita?” you asked, approaching your daughter and lowering yourself to her level.

“Yes!” she squealed, her little chubby cheeks rising as she beamed once more. “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, daddy?”

“Of course we are,” he agreed, his soft voice fully equipped as he seemed to fall under the spell of his adorable daughter.

“I’ll race you to the car?” she asked, although she was already taking off out the door with zero regard for her dress, or anything for that matter. 

Frankie looked at you and raised his brows as if to ask if he should’ve been chasing her, and you gave him a noncommittal shrug. “It’s her new thing,” you explained, walking at a far more casual pace as the two of you headed outside. “And she prefers to win.”

“Good to know,” he chuckled softly. “You know, I do want to be home more often to do this kind of thing. I want to know what her new interests and little quirks are,” Frankie’s face seemed to fall the slightest bit as you turned to look at him, a small frown now on his face.

“I know you do,” you said understandingly, despite the fact that more often than not, you didn’t understand. His missions were often very hush-hush–even for you–but what you did know was that there was often a lot of money involved. Enough money to allow your husband to become a stay-at-home father, and to send your daughter to college several times over. Yet, despite his growing joint pain and his desire to be with his family, he was often sent on many months-long excursions that ended with him being mentally absent for days, and waking you up in the middle of the night from squeezing you so hard that you thought you might burst. “But this mission is your last one, right?”

“It should be,” he shrugged, stepping out into the garage with you. While you tried to have hope, you could think of multiple occasions where Frankie was told that a mission would be his last, but that ended up not being the case.

“Then you’ll be back with us soon permanently,” you assured him, “More father-daughter dances, more playdates at the park, hugs and kisses from us whenever you need them… Just try to look forward to that. I know I am.” 

You were doing your best to reassure him, but in the process you were also attempting to reassure yourself. It obviously was not your preference to have your partner and the father of your child gone so frequently, but it also wasn’t up to you. That much was clear. 

“I will,” he said, his frown dissipating once he laid eyes on his daughter once more, who was standing outside of the car door with a very self-satisfied grin on her face. 

“I won!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air in celebration. “You’re too slow, daddy,” she giggled.

Frankie wasted no time walking over to her and scooping her into his arms, pressing a big kiss onto her cheek with all the love in the world. As you watched, your heart melted, particularly as your daughter happily scrunched her face up at the affection. You yearned for more of this, to be able to wake up every day and be able to bask in the love that came from the two people across from you. 

“I’m too old now. I’m such a slowpoke,” he said dramatically, making your daughter laugh as he moved to get her settled in the back seat of the car. “We’ll have to do a do-over race at some point.”

“I’ll still win,” she said confidently, causing you to laugh where you were standing by the door. After strapping in your daughter and closing the back door, you were sure that the conversation between you and Frankie was over. He was off to have a fun, well deserved night with your kid, and you had a bottle of pinot noir and a trashy romcom calling your name. 

Yet, before you turned to go back inside, Frankie reached out and grabbed your arm. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, concern written all over you. His previous behavior around his daughter compared to the look he was giving you right then were night and day–his shoulders tense and his worry lines making an appearance as he gulped.

“Yeah, I’m just… I want to make sure that she has the best night possible. We just see each other so little now that I want to be sure that the memories she does have of me are good ones,” he confessed.

“It will be a good one,” you assured him. 

“I-” he seemed to stop himself before he said something else. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

For some reason, you were getting the feeling that his worries weren’t just related to his dancing skills. Frankie had shared his insecurities with you over his parenting a number of times before–his concerns that he was going to end up not knowing anything at all about his own child, his fears that she would grow up resenting him for his absence, and his biggest fear that she one day might even forget that he was her father in the first place. It made sense that something like a father-daughter dance would bring out some of that insecurity in him. 

You pulled Frankie into a hug, knowing that he was never all that great with sharing his feelings, but a bit of physical contact always seemed to help him a bit. You swore you could feel his shoulders relax as you embraced him, swaying him ever so slightly. 

“Baby, you are not a bad dancer. And even if you were the most awful, terrible dancer in this world, all she’s gonna remember is how fun of a night she had with her daddy,” you attempted to comfort Frankie with your sincerity. “You should hear how she talks about you when you’re gone. The amount of times she’s retold me the story of your trip to the conservatory, or about the time you two went to the aquarium together? I promise, all the little details don’t matter. What matters is that she loves you, and she loves getting to spend any time with you.”

The assurance from you that your daughter didn’t think of him in the same way that he seemed to think about himself seemingly did the trick, giving Frankie all that he needed to gently pull away from you. 

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, pecking your lips before looking at you with an almost watery expression. 

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you,” you replied with just as much sincerity. “Now, you should probably get going before she starts complaining about you being a slug and taking so long.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Frankie agreed, fully pulling himself away from you and turning himself towards the door once more. 

“Love you guys,” you called as you began to walk towards the house door. “Make some fun memories tonight, okay?”

The grins and waves you received as the two began to back out of the garage told you more than any verbal answer ever could’ve.

They absolutely would.

[hlizr50]

An Invitation

It's been awhile since I've posted a drabble for my 600 follower celebration!

This one comes from the lovely @vikingmagic33, who requested:

“Get back down here, we’re not done yet.” Gwyn to Az after an argument about him not thinking she was ready for some advanced training or something similar, idiots to lovers, not established relationship

Fandom: ACOTAR

Ship: Gwynriel

Word Count: 807

Read on AO3

He knew she was angry, but her expectation had been more than unreasonable. It had been downright foolish for Gwyn to ask it of him, and in response the shadowsinger had done what he did best.

He’d been a colossal ass.

Azriel had thought his guilt had reached its peak, first because he hadn’t made it to Sangravah in time to spare the enchanting priestess from the beasts that had hurt her. Then, because he had been so careless when they had sparred the previous week, and she had been triggered when he had pinned her between his strong thighs. Knowing that he had put that wild desperation in those eyes that usually glittered with mirth and affection - it was something from which he thought he might never recover. But at least that hadn’t been purposeful. He hadn’t sought to intentionally harm her or scare her.

But tonight he’d lashed out with the sole intention of striking her down. Insisting she wasn’t ready, that her extremely well-researched concept of what could be called exposure therapy was one of the most idiotic ideas that had ever fallen from her lips. When he’d snarled that she wasn’t prepared for this kind of thing, that he couldn’t believe she would even ask it of him, the hurt that had darkened her gaze made his chest feel hollow, as if he might cave in upon himself. The way she had flinched and lowered her eyes, the flush that had painted her freckled cheeks. Azriel had always found himself enamored with the way she blushed, under praise or triumph or in the heat of battle, but this was something wholly different. Wrong. The way her face reddened like that of a scolded child, rosy shame that he had made her feel. And then he’d grumbled that she should get to bed, and practically ran up the stairs to the House proper.

Like a fucking coward.

The last thing the Spymaster had expected was for his own bedroom door to burst open, his shadows flaring and twisting against the fury that was Gwyneth Berdara at his threshold. The pain in her stare was lightning, joined by the rumbling thunder of ire in its wake. The copper constellations on her cheeks were ruddy with tears, the tip of her nose red. Under any other circumstance he might have allowed himself to appreciate how striking she was.

“We’re not finished yet,” she seethed. The wetness that flooded her eyes was not present in her voice, but Azriel wasn’t particularly surprised. She was an immensely talented speaker, eloquent and practiced through years of education, discipleship, and service to the most demanding priestess to ever pad through the library corridors.

The Illyrian felt the callous words upon his tongue before he could stop him, hating himself for the automatic reaction. “I believe I made myself quite clear, Gwyneth–”

“Oh you surely did, Azriel. Make no mistake.” His attention jerked to her face, their eyes catching, and she held on. Cauldron, he could not possibly look away, not even as she strode right to him, her leathers brushing against his own. “But let me be perfectly clear. Nobody, not even the great Spymaster of the Night Court, gets to decide when I am prepared to try to take control of my body, of my fear. You do not get to decide the when or the why or the how.”

Azriel worked on a swallow, knowing that she had more to say. More that he deserved to hear.

“I asked you because I trust you,” she whispered, taking a step back. Her eye contact didn’t falter, although her body seemed to curve inward. As if she’d used all of her courage to confront him, and now had nothing left. “I trust you more than anyone else, but if I have to find someone else to help me I will.” It was a quiet statement, but the threat roared between his ears. His wings flared of their own accord, as if driven by a possessiveness that he hadn’t dared to acknowledge. Without waiting for a response, the copper-haired valkyrie turned on her heel and made her way to the door. When she reached the threshold she paused, glancing over her shoulder. It wasn’t the withering, irreverent thing that she’d tossed to him in the past. It wasn’t a challenge or a flirtation.

No, this was a meek, anxious thing, and the wrongness of it seeped deep into Azriel’s very bones.

“I’ll be in the training ring tomorrow evening at midnight.” And then she disappeared down the hall.

It was an invitation, of sorts, but not an expectation. Whatever he chose, she would have her answer. And Azriel was left to ponder if he could be ready to let her go any more than he might be prepared to help her.

Tag List: @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @writing-spaces @onemorenightdreamer @feyretale @almosttenaciousmoon @mystical-blaise @the-introverted-bibliophile @live-the-fangirl-life @silverflameataraxia @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @kimstclair @mercarimari @romancebooksandshit @headcanonheadcase @booknerd87 @damedechance @ofduskanddreams @daevastanner @houseofhurricane

[peachybun-bun]

Taking It Slow [pt 4]

pairing; Park Jisung x f reader

genre; sweet fluffy smut, it’s obviously smut

notes/warnings; obviously…this is jisung in some sexual situations if you aren’t comfortable reading that don’t do it. as always the dreamies are mentioned as roomies. protected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), kissing, groping. I did try to work in drabble request but it did not work out. this request will go with the others have received concerning jisung for when we begin writing for him again in the future. 

word count; 4.3k and some change

NCT Dream: Roomies Series Master List

Jisung lays on the couch, his head on the pillow and eyes closed, as Jaemin stares at him. Jamein wonders where he had gone wrong. Almost as if he could feel someone staring at him, he cracks his eye open and sighs, seeing Jaemin sitting far too close to him, just staring. 

“Jaemin...leave me alone. I was trying to take a nap.” 

Jaemin furrows his brows and scrunches his nose. “Chenle said you had sex.” 

Groaning, Jisung throws his arm over his eyes and turns slightly towards the back of the couch.

Jaemin watches and reaches to pull Jisung back towards him. “Jisung?” 

Practically whining, throwing his hands back down to the couch, Jisung shoots a look at Jaemin and shrugs. “What? No, I haven’t. Not really. Not yet. Jesus, leave me alone. I’m going to take a nap in my room. I used to be able to use the entire house to just relax and now...I can’t get a minute's peace anywhere without locking the door.” 

Jaemin gasps at Jisung’s words, reaching to grab the boy's arm and stopping him from leaving. “Wait, you didn’t? What do you mean not yet?”

Haechan, who had been walking to the kitchen, stops and jumps over the couch, bringing Jisung down with him, having caught the last of the conversation. “Yeah, what do you mean not yet?” 

Putting his head into his hands, Jisung groans loudly, before Haechan forces him to sit up and look at the two of them. “We haven’t yet. It’s none of your business though.”

Jaemin shakes his head, a bit pale, as Haechan grins and speaks. “Buddy...how long have you been dating her? Months at this point. She is in love with you if she is hanging on this long, and you haven’t put your dick in her yet...she’s a keeper.” 

Jaemin shoots Haechan a look and curses under his breath. “Or she’s just...yeah she seems great. But you don’t have to have sex. You know that, right? Maybe she doesn’t even want to have sex with you. Have you talked about that? Waiting for marriage?” 

It was Haechan’s turn to shoot Jaemin a look. “Sure, Jaem...Chenle said her skirt and bra were on the floor. She doesn’t want to have sex with him. Marriage? Are you drunk? He’s 19.” 

Jisung begins to wonder if he were even here if it would matter, because this conversation would carry on without him. “You know what...you two have fun discussing my sex life, and I’m going to go take that nap.” He starts to stand, only to be pulled back down by Haechan. 

“Not so fast. When’s the big day? I know Jaemin got you supplies, so no worries there, but do you need more tips? Just don’t be boring. It’s your first time so don’t get too crazy with it, but don’t just hump on her like a dog in heat.” 

“Oh my god.” Jaemin speaks, running his hand over his face. “Jisung, if you are seriously going to do this, just talk to her about how she wants to do it. I can’t believe I am...talking to you about this. Don’t do it like you’ve seen in porn or how Haechan tells you. You’ll scare her away…” He thinks about that for a second and nods. “Second thought, do it that way. Maybe she’ll leave.” 

“Ya!” Jisung yells at Jaemin and points at him. “Don’t talk about her like that. I love Y/N..” Realizing what he said, Jisung’s face goes red. He sinks back into the couch as Jaemin’s mouth falls open, and Haechan stares and just mutters “Holy fuck…” 

“I mean...yeah, no, yeah, I do. I just haven’t told her that, so don’t say anything please.”

Jaemin continues to stare, and Haechan laughs, grabbing Jisung around the shoulders in a half hug. “Good for you, buddy. Shit...you really love her?”

Jisung nods and looks at Haechan as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Taking it out, he sees a message from you, and he can’t help but smile. 

Haechan laughs, seeing the smile, and lets go of Jisung. “Oh yeah, you do. Fuck, Jaem...it’s more serious then even you thought.” Reaching across to the other seat, he smacks Jaemin’s shoulder, and finally gets up to leave as Jisung looks at your message. 

Y/N: Hi baby. Still want me to come over? [4:50 pm] 

Jaemin watches as Jisung replies to you, a smile on the younger boy’s face. Even Jaemin can’t help but smile a bit at seeing how happy Jisung seems to be. 

Jisung: Yes I do. I miss you. Need to see you babe. You still want to stay the night? [4:51 pm] 

Y/N: Yes, absolutely. I’ll be there around 8ish after work. [4:52 pm]

Sighing heavily, Jaemin shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Just talk before you do it. I’m sure you have been...you aren’t an idiot. Just make sure it’s what you both want. The worst feeling is doing something you can’t take back.”

Jisung looks up to Jaemin and furrows his brow with a nod. “I know, Hyung. We’ve talked plenty...no secrets. I wasn’t sure at first, you know? When I would be ready, but I am now and for it to be her. I didn’t want to just do it to do it. I wanted it to be because I was in love with someone.” 

Jaemin takes a breath and shakes his head, before reaching out to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “When did you get so smart?”

Jisung grins a bit and shrugs, before gesturing his head back towards the hall saying he was going to go on. Jaemin nods, before watching the boy get up and head for his room to get in a nap before you would arrive. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your overnight bag over your shoulder, you thank your uber driver and get out of the suv to head up the steps to the house. You start to knock, but the door opens before you get the chance.

Jisung grins at you, glancing at you in his sweatshirt, before he leans to kiss you immediately. His hand taking your bag from your shoulder, putting it over his.

You laugh against his lips and step inside as he takes your hand. “I missed you too.”

He laughs at your words and finally pulls back to look at you. “I might have missed you just a little. You look so cute in my clothes.”

You laugh again and walk with him as he moves further into the house.

He yells over his shoulder towards the living room where most of the residents of the house are watching something on the tv. “Y/N is here...goodnight, everyone.”

You glance over as you hear a few of the boys complain and yell about thinking the two of you were going to watch the movie with them, but Jisung waves them off. “They will be fine. Plenty of time to watch movies with them later. I just want you to myself.”

You smile and nod, fine with whatever he decides, just happy to be back with him. You miss him more and more, even if it's just a few days between your dates. 

Finally in his room, you watch as he sits your bag down on the bed and looks at you again, taking in the sight of you in his clothes.

You laugh and shake your head, moving to him to wrap your arms around his waist and resting your cheek on his chest, just enjoying being close to him for a moment.

His cheek rests against your head as he smiles and chews at his cheek. “How was your day?” 

You shrug and close your eyes, taking a breath in of his scent, enjoying the musk of his body wash. “It was okay, just long. Happy for it to be the weekend and to be here.”

Jisung glances down at you and smiles again. “Did you eat?” 

Laughing a bit, you nod. He was always checking on your health and if you had eaten. Always concerned about you, even before himself. “Yes. I ate before I came over.”

He nods, pleased with your answer, before letting you go to sit down on the bed. He looks up at you as you move to your bag to take out a few things. 

Wanting to be comfortable, you undo your jeans as Jisung tilts his head, watching as you push them down and pick them up. You put them back into your bag, only to take out a pair of short tight nylon shorts you intend to put on.

“Hey…”

You look at Jisung as he speaks and laugh a bit as he reaches to take the shorts out of your hand, putting them back into your bag and then your bag on the floor. 

“If you want to get comfortable...we can get comfortable.”

Shaking your head, you smile, raising a brow as he pulls you towards him by pulling at the sweatshirt you were wearing that belonged to him.

Laughing as you are pulled so close, you straddle his legs. Your arms go around his neck as your knees rest on either side of his legs. “Oh, and what is your plan on getting comfortable?”

Jisung’s cheeks flush slightly as he smiles and slides his hands under your shirt, over your bare skin on your back. “I think less clothes seem more comfortable, don’t you?” 

You smile and tilt your head. His logic is sound, but you had an idea that he was talking more about your clothes. So instead, your hands go to his shirt, sliding it up his chest, causing him to laugh and lean his head back and lift his hands, so you can take his shirt off. “Fair. This is fair.” 

Nodding, you let his shirt drop from your fingers as his hands move back to run over your legs, up towards your hips, gripping lightly. “I thought it was very fair.”

Jisung bites at his bottom lip as his fingers move back to the sweatshirt, sliding it up your torso. Lifting your hands, you let him remove it, leaving you in your bra and panties, which gains a bright smile from Jisung. 

He leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, before leaning to press a kiss to your neck, causing you to lean your head back as his hands move back to your waist, running his fingers along your skin.

You smile and bite at your own lip, taking in a deep breath, enjoying his lips on your skin. He only breaks from you to say, “I’m gonna lay you down.” 

Lifting you as he stands, you laugh softly into a small gasp as Jisung turns to lay you down on the bed carefully. “You are so sweet, Jisung…”

He smiles and shrugs as he leans back down to press a kiss to your chest. “I didn’t want to just pick you up and scare you.” 

“Most guys wouldn’t think to say anything or care enough to…” You moan softly as his tongue glides along your neck, up towards your jaw as he places sucking kisses towards your lips.

“I’m hoping I won’t be like other guys.”

You sigh happily as you run your fingers through his hair and press your lips to his. 

He smiles and leans back to look down at you, running his fingers over your skin as if in thought.

You smile back at him, running your fingers down his jaw, in question. “What is it, baby?”

Jisung’s cheeks flush slightly as he licks his lips, before nodding. “I want to talk about something, if that’s okay.” 

You can’t help but laugh a bit at your current state of dress, and the fact that he wanted to talk now, but you nod and furrow your brows. “Is something wrong?”

Jisung shakes his head no and slides his hand along your ribs as he looks down at your lips as he talks, almost afraid to make eye contact with you. “I’ve always been pretty shy when it comes to being flirty or sexy. If you know what I mean?”

You smile at his words and tilt his chin up, so he will look at you, as you nod for him to continue. 

Jisung smiles and leans into your touch, but not before leaning to kiss your fingers sweetly. “But with you, it’s been really easy to want to try things. I’ve done a lot of firsts with you, but you know that.”

Your cheeks flush slightly as you rub your lips together and nod again.

Jisung bites his lip and takes a breath, before continuing. “I’ve thought a lot about it and having sex isn’t something I wanted to just do. I want it to be important and with someone that I love.” 

You feel your mouth go slightly dry as you listen to Jisung talk, not wanting to interrupt him. You know he is feeling shy, so you let his chin slide from your hand as he moves his head.

His lips press to your wrist, then your shoulder, before looking back at you. “And I do...love you. I’ve wanted to say that for a while now, but I wanted it to be the right time and to be more sure with myself that maybe you also loved me.” 

Jisung watches your reaction, taking a breath in when he sees your eyes get slightly watery. Panic hits his face. “Wait, you aren’t supposed to cry. That isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

You laugh and reach up to cup his face, pulling him down to you to press your lips to his softly, kissing him tenderly for a long moment as you sniff back tears. “Jisung, I do love you. Oh my god...I’m crying because that was the sweetest confession I have ever heard, and I never thought it’d be to me.” 

He smiles on your lips, before kissing you again and nudging your nose with his, as your hands move to slide down the sides of his neck, then into the back of his hair. Jisung finally pulls back to look down at you again with a small breathy groan.

You pick up on the cue and nod, moving to slide off to the side and sitting up. You undo your bra, letting it fall down your arms and letting him take it from you to put it on the floor. 

Jisung’s hands move to cup your breasts gently, sliding his thumbs over your nipples in small circles, before leaning to press a soft kiss between your breasts and then sit back. His hands move to his sweatpants, pushing them down, along with his boxers, and exposing his mostly hard length to you.

You smile and reach over to run your hand along this jaw as you lay back down, and lift your hips letting him pull your panites down your legs. 

His eyes traveling over your skin, back to your eyes as he looks at you, a little loss for words as he swallows hard.

You smile and take his hand bringing it to your lips kissing his palm. “Go ahead and grab a condom. We don’t need it right now, but that way you won’t have to get back up.”

He smiles, glad you give him some direction, sliding off the bed and going to the box Jaemin gave him. He opens it to take out the strip of condoms, ripping one off and bringing it back to hand to you, as he slides back to lay next to you. 

You lay it down next to you and reach for him, bringing him closer to you and pressing your lips to his with a soft moan that makes Jisung smile on your lips. You can’t help but smile back and press back into the pillow to look at him. “What?”

Jisung flushes a bit and shakes his head, pressing his face to the crook of your neck, a bit embarrassed.

Laughing, you run your fingers through his hair and lift his head to look at you. “Tell me.” 

“You just sound so pretty when you moan.”

Biting your lip, you lean your head back and shake your head. “Jisung...you say the sexiest things, and I don’t even think you mean to say them.”

Jisung laughs and leans to kiss your neck as you lean your head back. You furrow your brows as he sucks gently at your skin. You think about telling him to be careful about making a mark, but then realize you don’t really care. “That feels good.” 

“Does it?” Jisung smiles on your skin and kisses up your neck, to your ear, causing you to laugh into another moan.

“Yes…”

He grins and kisses down your neck, this time towards your chest, as your fingers glide along his back with a whine, pushing your thighs together at the feeling of arousal. 

Jisung turns his head towards the movement, seeing your legs rub together as he bites at his bottom lip, before sliding his hand down your waist and to your thigh and inward.

You gasp, feeling his middle finger slide between your folds, making you tighten your legs together.

He smirks a bit at your sounds as he moves his hand and parts your legs so he can reach you better. 

You run a hand over your face, before looking down at him as he rests his lips on your ribs, his middle finger sliding into you carefully.

Jisung raises a brow to how wet you feel, he isn’t sure you’ve been this wet before when he’s touched you before. “You must really like it.” 

Laughing, you bite at the heel of your hand gently. “You’ve gotten very very good at foreplay and dirty talk, Jisung.”

He laughs softly and presses a kiss to your stomach, working his way down the bed to lay between your legs, before looking back up at you. “I didn’t think anything I said was very dirty.” 

Shaking your head, you look down at him as he thrusts his finger further into you, and you lift your hips with a moan. Jisung slides his tongue over your folds, the moment your hips are level with his face, causing you to lose your breath and gasping out what you were going to say. “Maybe that...that was the wr-ong wo-oord.” 

Jisung smiles and does as you told him before, parting your folds with his lips and tongue, teasing your clit as you close your eyes and squirm under him slightly, feeling yourself getting close to your high. “Jisung...oh my god, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

Hearing you say that, he tries harder to make that a reality, sending you over the edge as he sucks lightly and gently at your clit, making you cry out softly. 

Waiting a moment while you roll your hips, before he slides his finger out. Jisung leaves his lips against you, before removing his finger and sliding his tongue down to your entrance, to collect a bit of your orgasm on his tongue with a groan.

You moan softly and glance down at him, before reaching out for him. 

Meeting your eyes, Jisung reaches out to take your hand and slides back up the bed towards you, pressing his lips to yours.

You lace your fingers through his hair, at the nape of his neck, keeping him close as your other hand slides down his side, to his hip and inward towards his length.

Fingertips grazing him, Jisung groans on your lips and pulls back from the kiss with a smile. “If you touch me too much, I won’t last...I never do when you touch me.” 

You smile and circle your thumb over the tip of his cock, causing his mouth to drop open as you nod. “It’s okay...are you sure you want to do this? I mean, with me?”

Jisung’s eyes meet yours as he tilts his head, his hand moving to wrap around your wrist to take your hand from him. You wonder if he had changed his mind, but instead he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your palm, before he reaches for the condom on the mattress to put it in your hand. “There’s no one else I would want it to be with.”

You wrap your fingers barely around the foil square and nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, before sliding from him to sit up slightly as he sits against the headboard, watching you. Tearing the condom open, you gently stroke Jisung once with one hand as you roll the condom down his length with the other, checking his expression to make sure he was still okay. 

Jisung groans to your touch, slightly lifting his hips as you roll the condom down his shaft. Furrowing his brows, he looks to you slightly for direction, not wanting to look as nervous as he felt, but you could tell.

Smiling sweetly at him, running your fingers over his thighs, you lay back down and gesture your head back. “Come here, baby.” 

He nods and moves to lay between your legs, resting his hips to yours, gasping softly to the warmth between your legs as his cock rests against your folds. He felt the instinct to grind against you, but resists as he feels you reach between the two of you, as you lift one of your legs to rest your knee against his hip. 

“Just go slow and do what feels comfortable for you.”

Jisung laughs softly at your words, and you look up at him with a questioning smile. He shakes his head and smiles. “Nothing, just I think it’s supposed to go the other way.”

Using your free hand, you run your thumb over his cheek and lean to kiss his lips, speaking on his lips, “That’s not always true, baby. I’m going to feel good no matter what, and if anything hurts, I’ll tell you.” 

Jisung swallows hard and smiles on your lips, before resting his head on your forehead. He puts his hand with yours as you both guide his head to your entrance.

You take your hand away, letting him take control as you feel him enter you, stretching you slowly. Moaning softly, you press your lips together, trying to control yourself as Jisung groans and furrows his brow at the feeling as he finally enters you completely. 

His hands move back to the bed to steady himself as he stays still for a moment, getting used to how tight you feel around him. It was different from his hand, your hand, or your mouth. It was infinitely better. Eyes closed, Jisung leans to put his head against the crook of your neck, pressing his lips there softly as he mutters, “You feel so good, so warm.” 

Smiling, you take a breath and nod as your hands move his hips, urging him to move some.

Taking your lead, Jisung begins to rock his hips, thrusting into you, slowly but steadily. You try to hold back a moan, but Jisung leans back to look down at you finally and smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t be quiet, you know I like it. Please?” 

Your cheeks flush to his words, and you can’t help but bite at your bottom lip at his words and his movement as he tries to be a bit bolder, moving a bit deeper as he brings his hips closer to yours. Gasping into a moan, you close your eyes and dig your nails into his skin at his hips, causing Jisung to moan out, furrowing his brows.

“Good?” 

Nodding, you lift your hips to meet his thrusts with a whine, as he almost loses his breath to how good it all feels. Your walls seem to pulse around him, gripping him tighter with every second, with every thrust. Jisung’s picks up speed, his mouth dropping open as he feels his own climax coming on, almost without much warning. “I...oh my god. Babe..I..” 

You start to tell him it’s okay and to cum, but you don’t get a chance as he groans out your name, against your ear, cumming hard into you and filling the condom. His arms give out as he lays on you on his elbows, to stop him from hurting you. You moan in pleasure as your hands slide from his hips, up his back, as his thrusts slow to a stop. 

Jisung groans and moves his hands back up on the bed, looking down at you as you smile up at him. “Did I hurt you?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Not at all. Are you okay?”

Nodding quickly, Jisung glances down between you, almost as if he is afraid to pull from you.

“It’s okay. Just go slow. Hold the condom, and you can take it off and throw it away.” 

He nods and does as you suggest, rolling from you off the bed and throwing the condom away, before sitting back down on the bed. His back is to you as he runs his fingers through his hair, catching his breath.

Biting your lip, you move to your knees and move to sit behind him, putting your arms around him and kissing his neck. “Are you happy?” 

Unable to keep his smile from you, Jisung grins and laughs. “Very...that was incredible. Did I do okay?”

You kiss his cheek and laugh a bit. “More than okay. It was perfect. I love you, Jisung.” 

Jisung turns to the side of the bed and pulls you into his arms at your words, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes your hair behind your ear. “I love you too, like a lot.” 

Pulling him back on the bed, you let him hold you as you rest your cheek on his chest, and his fingers play with your hair. You knew you should get cleaned up, but it felt too nice to just be in bliss and in his arms for just a while longer. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list: @binzuli @fullsun9890 @tyongolden @jenorenle @michaellangdonscockslut @jievnbp @yokshi-unbeliebubble @haizi0 @hyuckswifey @stopitvpls @bellamendoza @subhyuck @dnghycks-bestie @dancinginthetaillight @bbyqngels @artgukk @glitteringcoffeefreak @fixbsh @maggiearthur @sparkly-haechan @wearywarrier @chittaphonstar @leaurcitee @frappenha @pewpewpwe00 @pritongmanok @auggieking @sexyjaemin-0813​ @ajuniceuajuniceu​ @nonosjams @jazzctzen 

[bibbykins]

Double Date

A/N: Hello my dears! I'm not done with the Jin and/or Hobi confession yet but I did write this little flashback last week and think I'm finally ready to post it! This is the situation in which Jimin discovered MC's reaction to yelling, just to clarify. As always, please hop into my ask box and give me some of that lovely feedback!

Note: This is a flashback as part of the drabble series The Household's Bunny, which I recommend reading the installments of prior to this one

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jimin x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: Lying, fatphobia, usage of the word "fat" as an insult, talks of sex, yelling, vomiting, implied previous trauma, bad friend, loser date, verbal argument, implied stalking, yandereish behavior

Summary: On a double date was not how Jimin imagined your first date with him going. Let alone, a double date in which you both are with someone else. The torture of sitting next to his ex and watching you with another man was well worth it to see you up close. He could only hope you and his "date" don't mind his blatant staring at you.

Jimin often wondered how he ended up so stupid sometimes. From prodigy orphan to absolute idiot. It was a little tragic. Here you were, back from the hospital, a smile on your face, sitting across the table from him… and he was on a date with your friend Yoora.

Sure, Yoora was fine, but she wasn’t you. That’s why they had broken up in the first place. He just… didn’t like her. Of course, he omitted the fact was that he liked someone else.

You, on the other hand, were on a date with some lowlife he hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of. Yoora had begged Jimin to go on a date, to which he vehemently denied. He had dated Yoora and things fizzled out quickly, so he saw no value in going on a date again. He only budged with her begging when she said it was for you, who was apparently too nervous to be on a date alone with this other guy. He sprung at the chance to see you outside of class, something he could only hope Yoora didn’t notice. Although, Jimin couldn’t help but wonder why you would go on a date with someone you weren’t comfortable being alone with, but maybe he was just bitter you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him.

You flashed Jimin a brief smile in between your chat with Yoora, making his mind go blank. Fuck, you were so pretty. You wore a simple white turtleneck with a brown plaid skirt and brown loafers with white socks to match. You looked unbelievably cute, even against the aged neon fabric of the chairs at the bowling alley. Not that your date appreciated just how divine you looked, hardly paying you any mind, instead looking around constantly and only really responding to Yoora.

Not that Jimin was being much better to Yoora. His eyes were constantly fixated on you, but both you and Jimin unaware of this blatant fact. He hadn’t been this close to you outside of the classroom in… well, basically ever. He watched with hearts in his eyes as you bowled your second gutter ball. He laughed as you bowed cheekily before returning to the table right as your date went to bowl.

“I’m so full!” Yoora exclaimed as you sat back down, the pizza you both agreed to share only having two slices out of it as you reached to make it a third, “I don’t know how you can eat more than one slice, y/n! Good for you.” She giggled obnoxiously as your moves faltered in setting the pizza on your plate.

Jimin’s eyes landed on Yoora’s form for the first time in the whole night with a displeased look. Her form shrunk under his sharp glare and any future taunts she had planned died on her tongue as you searched for the words to say, “She’s just keeping herself nourished for me, aren’t you babe?” Your date spoke with a slimy voice as he slid in the booth next to you and Jimin watched confusion fill your face. Jimin’s smile noticeably dropped.

"It's a little silly to imagine everything she does is for you, no?" Jimin gave your date a pointed look, all with a smile on his face, as your date also shrunk, nodding awkwardly.

The most input your date ever gave to you directly was about how hot you were or to chide at your poor bowling skills. It was a little painful watching your smile fade throughout the date, and Yoora joining in to try and make you feel even worse wasn’t helping. Jimin couldn't imagine a scenario in which any of this would make you happy, and he just couldn't hold his tongue the entire time.

“I’m just hungry.” You shrugged, figuring Jimin was just being a gentleman in lightly scolding Jihoon, “I eat when I’m hungry, hence the pizza.” You spoke simply as you took another bite. You knew what Yoora was doing. Passive-aggressive slights to your weight in front of romantic partners were not shocking to you in the slightest.

This was why you didn’t want to go on a double date with Yoora. Sometimes she was nice and funny, but other times she was like a mean girl straight out of a teen movie. This was why you considered Yoora more acquaintance than a friend since she only talked to you when she had no other friends around. This dynamic was fine enough since you hadn’t made any friends in college, so having someone to interact with was nice enough, but you drew the line at her getting this intimately involved. However, she insisted she should bring herself and Jimin along for your safety. You had joked you’d like to see Jihoon try to carry you away to kidnap you, but she didn’t laugh.

It was ironic that your weight was only funny when she was making the joke.

Yoora shrunk a bit as she watched a smile grace Jimin’s features again while you ate, “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” She spoke hurriedly out of nowhere and you gave her a small wave.

Your date resumed his survey of the building before his eyes caught sight of something and went wide, “Shit, a friend from my bio lab is here.” He murmured quite loudly before turning to you, “I’ll be right back.” He spoke in a similarly rushed tone as he made a bee-line to the restroom.

You gave Jihoon a weak smile, waving him away when you realized he didn’t even look at you for a response before getting up. Well, there goes another liar. Last night it was, “Baby, you’re so beautiful. I could see myself marrying you. Let me take you on a date and then we can come back to my place and seal the deal.” You were no longer so naive as to think a simple handjob would make Jihoon a romantic, but you did hope it would be enough motivation for him to reciprocate with skill. You hated liars, especially liars who do it to get into your bed. On top of that a horny liar with no skill.

Jimin noticed your date dodge the line of vision of his friend and sneak to the bathrooms and frowned, “Why is he going to the bathroom if his friend is right there?” He mused to himself.

“To hide.” You sighed, making Jimin jump, shocked you heard him. You looked up and saw his confusion before sighing, “He doesn’t want to be seen with me, so he’s going to the bathroom.”

Still short-circuiting from the direct eye contact he was making with you, he sputtered, “Wha- Why would-”

“Look at me.” You poked the sliver stomach between the hem of your top and the top of your skirt. Jimin admired the plush skin before snapping himself from the trance.

He shrugged, “I am, and it makes even less sense.” He finally had the determination to hold eye contact with you without his mind going into overdrive and right as you opened your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated.

You looked down at it with a frown, “Yoora wants me to meet her outside.” You mumbled, before looking up at Jimin, “I don’t think I was supposed to say that to you.” You looked at him with a sorry look, “I’ll be back.”

You pushed the front doors open to see Yoora standing with her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she looked around, as if she didn’t send you the text message a mere minute ago. She caught sight of you and her eyes went wide before settling into a smug gaze, “Ah, there you are!” She smiled and it was sickly sweet, “I wanted to tell you Jihoon and I are leaving.”

Ah, she must have been looking around for his car to come around. Well, that’s saving you the awkward conversation of rejecting him, so you shrugged, “Okay.”

Evidently not wanting the nonchalant reaction you gave her she scoffed, “Seriously? You have nothing to say?” For some reason, Yoora would sometimes make it her mission to push your buttons, usually, this was by making you flustered, so you’re not sure what happened to spur on such unadulterated malice.

However, you didn’t really have the energy to dissect it so you shrugged a little more incredulously, “What is there to say? No?” You scoffed, “You guys are consenting adults, you both made a choice-”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Her increase in volume made you jump and also caught the eyes of fellow students and unaffiliated customers just trying to have a night out.

Nevertheless, you blinked wildly, “Me?!” You guffawed, “You’re the one that brought me out here to tell me you’re ditching me and your date?” The whole thing felt so ridiculous.

“Yes, you!” Her hands gestured to you wildly, “My date is oogling you and so I decide to seduce yours and you just say ‘okay’?!” Her volume was increasing and you could feel a familiar nausea pooling in your stomach, “Let me be pissed at you for stealing my date!”

“It’s not my fault I’m hot, nor does that make you less hot.” You countered, not really believing it was you Jimin was interested in, but more so Yoora he wasn’t interested in, “He just doesn’t like you. You said you knew that.” You pointed out, making her falter because you were right. Yoora told you Jimin wasn’t interested in her but she was trying to change that despite your words of caution.

“You? Hot? You’re fat!” Ah, there it was. She was evidently running out of sound reasons to be mad at you but was still not ready to just face the fact that she felt shitty her date looked at the fat girl more than he looked at her.

You couldn’t contain your laugh, “Oh, no shit? I am?” You mockingly looked down at your form, which only seemed to fan the flames.

“Just get fucking mad at me!” She shouted, wiping the smile off of your face

You sucked your teeth, “Stop yelling. You know that yelling makes me-”

She rolled her eyes before losing her mind, “What do I know about you?! You won’t even tell me why you were in the hospital-”

Now you were getting really queasy and annoyed, wanting this to end because at this point she was just yelling at you to feel like less of an asshole, “Because you’ll just tell everyone, and it’s not their business- or yours for that matter!” You felt a little bad criticizing her gossipy nature, but you knew you were going to puke any minute now.

“I’m your friend!” She spat, ironically, in a rather unfriendly manner

You scoffed, “You’re going home with my date!”

This seemed to catch her off guard, almost, almost, making her realize she was simply being an asshole, but she stuck to her guns, “He-He doesn’t even like you!”

“And yet, if we’re such good friends, you’re still going home with him to what? Prove a point to me?!” You were exasperated as you heard his obnoxious car pull up behind you, “I know now he doesn’t like me, that’s what the date was for!” You were beyond tired as you watched her eyes dart between you and the red Mustang, “But now I know that you don’t really like me either.” You sighed and this made her sight settle on your form, her gaze significantly softer.

“Y/n…” Her voice was lower, surrendering.

“It’s fine. You’re not required to like me.” You insisted, “I just wish you wouldn’t lie about it.” This time, you felt a little hurt at your own words, but the bile in your throat wouldn’t give you much time to reflect on it, especially as Jihoon honked his horn, like the gentleman he was, “Well? Go on.” You gestured to the obnoxious car as Yoora got in with her head down.

Not even bothering to wait for them to drive away, you ran to the alley on the side of the building with a hand clasped over your mouth. The moment you made it to the dim-lit hallway of brick, you puked your guts out. The bile burned your throat, but you could still feel a careful hand pulling your hair back ever so gently as another hesitantly rubbed your back. The touch was calming and void of judgment. You figured someone assumed you were drunk and was used to being a hero. However, when you were finally done and stood up, you were faced with the most sought-after man of the Arts department.

“Are you… okay?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and you had no real energy to be all that embarrassed. Vomiting took all the life out of you almost every time.

You simply turned back to look at the mess you made and cringed, “Oh shit.” You spoke slowly, “I should clean that up.” You sputtered.

Jimin merely smiled and shook his head as you turned back to him, “It’s an alleyway, come on, someone will just make a worse mess in an hour.” He handed you a water bottle, “Go ahead and rinse.” You looked at him with pleading eyes, his looks were more than enough to make you feel flustered. He seemed to read your eyes as he turned around.

“Thanks.” You spoke up after you rinsed, “But-”

“Let me drive you home.” He waited to hear your footsteps behind him before pressing onward.

He ignored your protests the whole way to his car, brushing them off with a wave of his hands. You had figured it was just him being cool, but the reality was that he was mentally hyping himself up. Now with his anger at Yoora and your date dissipated, he was back to a bumbling mess when it came to you, even if the nagging worry of what could have happened to you to make you throw up at yelling was an ever-present weight he took on his shoulders. The girl of his dream would be in his car, sitting right next to him, and that was enough to make him short-circuit. His face was getting redder and redder just thinking about it. Not that your polite and melodic voice insisting you can just take the bus helped any. Surely you had to know how beautiful you were? He never doubted you knew until today, and the notion made him frown but also, thankfully, calm down.

By the time he opened the door for you, any hints of redness on his face were obscured by the cloak of night over the sky and the dim street lamps. You gave him a short smile and he had to fight a squeal in his throat. Instead, you were met with a strained look, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he even liked you or if he was just being kind. You entered your address on his phone and he feigned looking at the route as if he wasn't familiar with the area. He then texted one of his housemates a name and a license plate number for information and wordlessly began driving.

You simply looked out the window as he seemingly studied his phone, not wanting to make his possible dislike of you worse. Although, you would prefer him not to like you at this point. You were kind of over people “liking” you by now. Jihoon had done no less than confess his undying love for you mid-orgasm and you were ashamed to admit how excited that had made you feel despite the emptiness that could be felt in the air. You had convinced yourself that could just be how love felt. How would you know any otherwise? Part of you knew you were deluding yourself, even if you would never know what love felt like, you knew it wouldn’t feel like that. It wouldn’t feel like the bittersweet taste of settling for less than you deserve in exchange for an escape from the all-consuming loneliness that surrounded you no matter who you hooked up with.

“I’m, uh, sorry Yoora did that to you. Jimin blurted out, making you look to him and making him clench the wheel.

“It’s not your fault.” You reassured him, “The whole point of the date was to see if this guy actually ‘loved’ me, or even liked me for that matter.” You couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “That post nut clarity must have made him realize he’s a huge liar.” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your words before you took a breath, “So, how much did you hear?”

“I walked out when I heard her calling you fat.” He stumbled against the words, clearly uncomfortable even repeating Yoora.

You hummed, “Yeah, well, I guess you’re all caught up.” You looked back out the window and Jimin could relax ever so slightly, “I don’t know how I can make her feel threatened. She’s so… loveable.” He frowned at this, “I know I’m pretty, but that doesn’t make me loveable.” He wanted so desperately to say you are loveable. If you weren’t, what had he spent the last year doing? He wanted to slam on the breaks and finally tell you how captivating you are in more ways than one, but the fear of misstepping caged him into his spot as you continued on, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one is obligated to love me.” You seemed to be letting all the exhaustion hit you, not even bothering to stop yourself, “It’s okay. I have the next best thing, sex.” Even you seemed to be unconvinced, “Maybe if I ask everyone for sex I’ll feel as content as Jihoon.” You seemed to be getting more and more upset as you dwelled on the topic.

“Why haven’t you asked me for sex then?” Jimin wanted to slam his head on the wheel and call it a night when he heard his voice speak what should have been an offhand thought.

You giggled a bit at this, relieving Jimin a bit, before shrugging, “I don’t want to use you like I let people use me.” You blew a breath, "You called my bluff. I don't wanna use anyone."

“Why do you let-”

“I, too, get horny and lonely.” You laughed bitterly, “People just lie to me that it’s something more when it’s not. Thank goodness I’m a psych major, or else I might believe them each time.” Judging by the melancholy in your words, Jimin doubted you didn’t not believe some of them, and the notion tore his heart in half. However, he was so pinned down by his fear, he couldn’t conjure the words needed.

“I mean, there are people out there who would like you and not just your body.” He spoke and he swore he was breaking a sweat by now.

You shrugged again, unconvinced again, “I’m glad you never asked me for sex.” You murmured and he glanced at you.

“Why?” Was he not your type?

“Because I think you’re a good person,” You gave him one more smile as he pulled up to your apartment complex, “and I’d like to keep thinking that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Thank you, for everything tonight.” He merely nodded in acknowledgment, throat strangled with a million emotions as he watched you go into your apartment.

Jimin let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and drove, as if on autopilot, and let his head plop lightly on the wheel, “Pathetic display, Jimin.” He scolded with a strained voice. He hated this about him. He hated that each time emotions got too real, each time he could not hide behind a charming smile and playful banter, he would choke up. He had been a dance prodigy since birth, since getting scouted by a private school, since Mona adopted him for his career to go even further. And yet, he couldn’t confess to the girl he’s liked for over a year. Instead of staring, he wished he had just asked if you were okay.

He had never imagined you would be nearly as lonely as you felt. Anyone on campus would look at your smile and assume you were doing peachy, but by now, with his observations, he could see when you were faking. Why had he never approached you more to make you smile for real? Why did he remain complicit in fuckers like Jihoon and Yoora’s plight to make you feel less than the perfect girl you are? Who had instilled such an intense reaction to yelling in you? How many times have you thrown up in an alley alone because of the people who knew how to use someone as caring as you? Maybe if he had sat down and eaten that cookie with you, he would be driving the both of you home together.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to do so at this point.

-------

“...Jimin?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at you, all dolled up and a little sweating from performing your final for the class he was your TA for, “You still here?” You giggled as you waved your hand in front of his eyes. You had been the last one to perform, so you figured his brain was fried from watching dozens of dance performances.

His smile grew with yours as he caught your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, “Yeah, I’m here, just got swept away in your performance is all.” He responded cooly and you rolled your eyes mockingly, “I’m serious, it was beautiful.” He brought your hand up, placing a kiss on your palm.

“Well, I had a wonderful training buddy.” You interlocked your fingers behind his neck as he laced his fingers on the small of your back. The PDA made you feel giddy, like a girl in her first relationship showcasing her wonderful boyfriend to the world, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He studied your face, your form, your everything for a moment. He basked in the glory of having someone as beautiful as you within his reach at long last. He thought back to each practice session and each kiss that came with it and couldn’t help the glee that spread in his chest. The glee was only further amplified by the very emotion on your face and he couldn’t fathom how he ever lived with himself seeing a fake smile on your face most days.

“You know I love you, right?” He blurted, making both of your eyes widen. Had he seriously just done that? Had he seriously confessed his love to you while the rest of your dance class waited to be dismissed? The air was still before he spoke again, “Could you do me a favor and beat the shit out of me?” He asked, making you giggle. Your joy was contagious and he found himself laughing too, in spite of the millions of emotions at confessing his love so suddenly.

You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips even if you tried. There was something so weightless about Jimin’s love, yet so meaningful. Where Yoongi had been intense and passionate, Jimin was bashful yet honest. It was this floaty feeling that made you lean up to his ears and whisper, “I love you too.” You beamed at him with a genuine smile and his heart soared.

“You do?” He asked excitedly, “You don’t have to, you know?” He reassured you and you could only chuckle.

“Oh well, if I don’t have to…” You joked as you moved to pull away from him, but he pulled you closer.

“I take it back- You have to.” He hurriedly spoke, “If… If you mean it.”

You nodded, a blissful smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss him, “I mean it, and it’s really nice being able to know you mean it too.” You whispered in his ear and in a moment of pure joy, he lifted you and spun you around, not caring about who saw or stared. You squealed at this, enjoying the moment of careless affection. He set you down with a slow kiss and you couldn’t help but melt into his form.

“You ready to go home?” He asked with a gleeful tone. You nodded excitedly and watched with hearts in your eyes as he dismissed the class with his hand in yours. He was always happy to display your relationship, even telling the professor in case he didn’t want Jimin grading your work. He announced it to the class with a blissful look and posted you all over any and all social media accounts he had. He had never been more proud to have someone by his side, and it made you emotional more than once. He held your hand in his as you walked to the car, swinging your arms just to hear your melodic laugh.

You checked your phone as Jimin closed the car door when you got in, “Oh, Hobi’s flight got delayed until tomorrow and Jin has to stay late tonight.” You mumbled, deep in thought for a moment, “And everyone else has something going on, so I guess it’s just me and you for dinner. One last night of freedom before you have to be busy too.” He placed a hand on your thigh as he drove and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have to mentally hype himself up to do it each time.

“Do you want to pick up dinner or just cook at home?” He asked cooly, masking his sheer glee at the domestic implications in his question.

You hummed, “I can cook something if you want,” You noted before a mischievous smile grew on your face, “My love.” You teased the pet name, making Jimin brake abruptly as he was getting out of the parking spot, his arm holding your body back from pushing forward. You gasped before you dissolved into laughter.

“Hey! Are you trying to make me crash?!” His face was beet red as he lectured you about car safety and how words can shake his whole world the whole ride home, and you had never been more enchanted by a flustered lecture in your life.

Eventually, he was finished lecturing you and the car was filled with laughter and light quips. He wondered how he ever lasted this long without you by his side, but he was glad he would no longer have to.

Tip Jar

[rebelsandtherest]

Hey There, Stranger

A FrUK drabble Word count: 2020 (I swear to GOD I did not plan that) Summary: In some hopeful future, the pandemic wanes toward a final close, and an Englishman crosses the channel to visit a very old friend. Both are surprised by who they find waiting for them in Calais, but what is a thousand years of companionship, really, if you can't occasionally be strangers? Warnings: Strong language and a lot of Old Man Bilingual Bickering

As I told @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole​, this is the first time I’ve written anything even vaguely romance-adjacent in years. I hope it’s not too corny.

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The actual travel time between Folkstone and Calais was a scant half hour; the lines for customs were considerably longer. From his place in the queue, Arthur leaned out of his demarcated lane to see how much further he had yet to go; it was nearly as long as it had been when he checked fifteen minutes ago.

"Fucking Boris," He grumbled under his breath. An elderly flat-capped gent in front of him turned to glare at the same time as the young man next to him—grandson?—looked up from his iPhone to snort. As the old man diverted his glare towards his grandson, the teen met eyes with Arthur and tipped his head in camaraderie. Arthur shrugged back in a 'am I wrong?' gesture.

There had been a time when the name and unique crest on Arthur's passport would have waved him past customs entirely. It hadn't been a very long time, come to think of it, but Christ it had been a glorious few decades. Then again, there had been a time when things like plague had required four weeks of quarantine on a filthy boat anchored a league offshore, instead of something as simple as a covid pass and a face mask, so he supposed he really oughtn't to complain.

After some untold eternity, he was standing at the customs desk and gained immediate rapport with the French agent behind the plexiglass when he greeted him in fluent French and handed him all his papers without prompting. It was the last time Arthur planned on speaking French during his stay if he could possibly help it. He took his passport back and wove his way through the familiar maze of the terminal, now ridden with all manner of stickers on the floor, plexiglass dividers, and hand sanitizer dispensers.

For ten in the morning, the place was crowded; far more crowded than Arthur had expected. Then again, after years of closures, quarantines, and restrictions, once the French and British governments had—finally—blown open their borders once more, it only made sense that people would flock to visit friends and relatives once more.

It was what Arthur was doing, after all. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Wétu?

I'm in the terminal, Arthur typed back, standing obnoxiously in the middle of the walkway as people parted around him. Where are you?

Are you past the customs border?

Yes of course. It's much busier than I expected.

Je manque aux Anglais :)

You're a twat.

:(

A man bumped into Arthur's shoulder and grumbled at him through a thick Scottish accent. Arthur frowned and readjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder, looking around and realizing there was no real place to stand without being in someone's way. He marched onward in the hopes of finding more space as the exodus from customs cleared.

Seriously, where are you? His thumbs clicked away angrily, I'm in the middle of the bloody path

Ah, already making a nuisance of yourself, it's almost like you never left

You ARE here, aren't you?

No response came, so Arthur shoved his phone into his pocket and found a rubbish bin to stand behind, hoping it would shield him from the flood of humans. He stood on tip toes and craned his neck, looking around every which way, but all he could see was facemasks and suitcases.

"If you're trying to throw yourself away," said a cheeky French accent behind him, and goddamnit Arthur would never admit it, but he'd missed what it sounded like in person, "I believe you qualify for l'recyclage, it's just around the corner."

"Nice of you to finally show-" No sooner did Arthur turn around than did the words die on his lips. Beneath his mask, his jaw was open. Loudly, obnoxiously, very Englishly amidst a sea of travelers, he said,

"What the fuck did you do to your hair?!"

People around them started out of surprise and there was one young lady who couldn't stifle her sudden laughter at the outburst. Francis Bonnefoy also laughed, but it had a self-conscious edge to it as he reached up a hand to tuck a strand of short—short—blond hair behind an ear, but it immediately fell back down again.

"What can I say?" the taller man shrugged. "We've all dealt with quarantaine in our own ways"

Arthur did not respond, and set his bag down so he could step forward to touch Francis' hair. Trimmed short in the back—Arthur's brain reeled to process the image of Francis wielding hair trimmers—and left longer in the front, the longest curls of Francis' pride and joy still only reached to the tips of his ears.

"I barely bloody recognize you," Arthur said, no real heat in his voice as he ran his fingers through the golden hair.

"What a very rude thing to say," Francis grumbled, even as he allowed his eyes to close for a moment at Arthur's touch. "As if I am still not the most fashionable person here, amongst all these morne Engl-"

"Wait a moment, wait a bloody moment," Arthur's fingers had trailed down the side of Francis' face, and he grabbed the Frenchman's chin and turned it to see his jaw. "Oh dear god," he pulled on the edge of Francis' facemask to see more of his cheek. "Are you—did you shave?!"

"I cannot keep a beard and wear a mask, it does no good to my skin, surely you—t'attends, quoi?!" It was Francis' turn to reach out his hand to Arthur's face, which was already conveniently turned for Francis to spy the skin between his mask and ear. His fingertips brushed over a dark shade of blond he hadn't seen in eons and yes, it prickled.

"Apparently you don't! Quelle merde, Angelterre?!"

"It's not my fault shaving is such a chore!" Arthur grumbled back, batting Francis' hand away. "No one sees it, anyway!"

"Non non non," Francis reached right back out to his face, "you do not get away with this so easily, I want to see-"

"Hands off, frog!"

"Then stop pulling on my mask, you're going to break it," even as he spoke, Arthur's fingers, still hooked under the edge of Francis' mask, yanked the fabric down so the Frenchman's pointed nose popped out. "Lâche-moi!" But Arthur couldn't have cared less about mask policy, he was staring directly at Francis' upper lip.

"Dear god, you did shave, who are you?"

"As much as you complain about my mustache, I thought you'd be—" Francis cut off and made a spitting noise as his mask got caught up in his mouth, and he struggled to put it to rights with his one free hand. Arthur took the opportunity to tear the mask off completely. Francis looked down at him with annoyance and shock all over his naked face. Arthur took it in for a beat before dissolving in laughter. He reached his hand back out.

"Oh, look at you," He said through his masked smile.

"Oh don't look so smug, rosbif, I have half a mind to—" and so Francis tore off Arthur's mask in one downward yank, exposing the Englishman's smile and his disheveled, full beard. Francis' eyes went wide and, after a moment of shock, he burst out laughing. Both men stood there staring at each other, dissolving in laughter the longer they looked at each other.

"What have you allowed to grow on your face?" Francis managed through his laugh, reaching out to cup Arthur's face in both hands. Though he ought to be insulted, Arthur was still overtaken by chuckling, and he reached up to touch Francis' face in return.

"You look like a child," Arthur mocked, beaming.

"You look like un grand-père," Francis accused through his laughter..

"I haven't seen you with short hair since… Christ, since Napoleon, I think."

"The last time I saw you with a beard, you were wearing chainmail and trying to shoot me in the head."

"Did I succeed?"

"I can't remember," Francis said honestly. "But I've always wondered,"

"Wondered what?" Arthur asked as Francis tugged on his whiskered chin and pulled him into a kiss. As if on reflex, Arthur's eyes fell closed and his hand went up to curl around Francis' neck, fingers scratching at the unfamiliar short hairs there. An arm wrapped around his waist and Arthur would be lying if his heart wasn't soaring from the warmth of being so close after so long. His free hand coiled itself around the lapel of Francis' coat and held him there.

After Francis felt he'd sufficiently reacquainted himself with Arthur's mouth, he pulled away, but stayed close, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the travellers, the overhead announcements, the rumble of luggage, the grumbles of stressed parents and businessmen. Arthur's eyes had always been such an odd shade of green, and they sparked a thousand memories that made the Frenchman feel, for all their long and colorful history, like he was finally home.

"Hmm," he said eventually, tilting his head back enough to regard Arthur's entire face with a satisfied grin. "I guessed right."

"What?" The Brit asked, eyebrows coming down. Francis' insides went soft seeing how red Arthur's face had become.

"It's terribly scratchy," he pronounced, thumb scritching through the blond of Arthur's beard. Arthur scoffed and looked away. "And," the hand at Arthur's back reached around to pinch at his side, "you've gained weight." Arthur's eyebrows were darker than his beard, and they drew down even further and he dropped his hands from Francis entirely.

"You always did know how to make a bloke feel better about himself," he grumbled.

"You were always far too bony, mon cher," Francis chuckled, and pulled the sulking Brit back close to him, "it feels good on you." That made Arthur blush even harder, but he stubbornly refused to look at Francis or reciprocate the hug. Francis only chuckled and leaned in to kiss Arthur's cheek. "And I never said I didn't like scratchy."

"You're a twat," Slowly, as if he didn't think Francis would notice, Arthur brought his arms back up to wrap around the Frenchman's middle.

"So you've said," Francis hugged him properly. "I've missed you, mon coeur," he said earnestly in Arthur's ear. A few centimeters shorter than Francis, Arthur's mouth was always buried in Francis' shoulder unless he tilted up his chin. He made no such effort then, and grumbled something into Francis' shoulder that might have been 'I missed you too'. It made the Frenchman smile.

Eventually they pulled apart, Arthur still pleasantly pink and Francis smiling. "It's been a long time since I took a stranger home with me," Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "What a thrill." Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled all the same.

"It's been a long time since I've had a stranger take me home, I guess you'll have to do." Arthur countered, shouldering his bag and taking Francis' hand in his without comment. "Now where on earth did my mask go?"

"I can't believe you wear those disposable monstrosities, they're hideous."

"They're comfortable."

"And not very environmentally friendly of you—what would Matheiu say?"

"Oh, don't give me that," Arthur dug a spare out of his bag.

"You brought more? Non, I will buy you new ones. Between the mask and the coat, it looks like I dug you out of a gutter."

"What's wrong with my coat?"

"It's from 1972, Arthur."

"You have plenty of things from the 70s."

"And all of them are, as the humans say, vintage. This looks like you dug it up from the darkest corner of a charity shop."

"You're unbelievable."

"And yet you love me."

"I didn't say that."

"But you do."

"Don't try to change the subject, I'll not be staying long if you spend the entire time complaining about my wardrobe."

"But I said I would help you fix it—"

"It doesn't need fixing, you idiot, that's just the point—"

The screech of trains and the rumble of the once-again busy station at Calais drowned out their bickering. They continued bickering even once inside their taxi, having never once let go of the others' hand.

[earlgreydream]

return.

| bucky x reader | angst | fluff |

bucky drabbles 🥺❤️

anon requested. y/n learning she’s pregnant and girly was pretty excited and counting the days until Bucky comes home... only to learn that 40s Bucky is now “dead” after falling off the train

cw: mentions of death (Bucky’s, but like, he obviously didn’t actually die)

1940’s:

“We’re going to have a little girl, and she’s going to know that her daddy is a soldier and a hero,” you kissed your husband, and his hands rested on your round belly.

“I wish I wasn’t leaving you alone, pregnant.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re going to fight the good fight,” you smiled, trying not to cry.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“I know.”

present day:

Nothing prepared you for hearing that Bucky died in a train accident. Nothing prepared you for waking up with Steve, decades later, still pregnant. And certainly nothing prepared you for seeing your husband that you thought was dead, killing people on the news. 

Now your daughter, Rebecca, was five, and the two of you lived at Stark’s home in upstate New York. You were a single mom, but Steve was hugely supportive, and around as often as possible. You loved Rebecca with everything inside of you, and it broke your heart that she was growing up without a father.

Seeing the havoc that Bucky wreaked on the news absolutely broke your heart. You wondered if he knew you were alive. It was unlikely, Stark had done a good job of helping you hide. The man who was once your husband was gone, and now you were a potential target of his violence.

“Rebecca, baby, you look so beautiful!” You giggled, braiding flowers into her brown curls. 

“Thanks, mama,” she hugged you before running out to the porch. You followed, and you nearly collapsed when you saw the man walking up your lawn. 

“Rebecca! Come here, love!” You cried, pulling her behind you. Her tiny hands gripped your skirt, hiding in the fabric. Panic shot through your chest, and you felt like you were being torn apart. You wanted to run to James, and risk it being the last thing you ever did, and wanting to run with your daughter.

“Mama, who’s that?!” Rebecca asked, frightened by James in heavy black tactical gear, a metal arm, and an automatic slung over his back. The war criminal, assassin, and international terrorist. 

“Go inside baby, go to your bedroom and shut the door. Go!” You pushed her away and she ran. 

“James...?” You called, your chest heaving as you hyperventilated. 

“Y/N, my love...” he spoke, silver eyes full of pain. He looked genuinely frightened, and you nearly screamed as his hand touched yours. 

“Mama!” 

“No, go inside, Rebecca!” you started to sob, tearing away from Bucky and running to her as she peeked out of the door. You were terrified, and so was she. Bucky’s words had sent you right back to the 1940s, but your daughter’s cry had jerked you back to reality. 

You held the child to your body, standing with your arms around her. Your back was against the wall, and you were shaking as tears rolled down your face. Bucky looked startled, and his eyes were massive as he stared at the two of you. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you,” James said quietly, and you shook your head violently. 

“I don’t believe you!”

“You know I would never hurt you. I was being controlled and held captive, but I escaped, I’m free. I promise I will not hurt you,” he took the gun off of his back and set it down on the other side of the porch. He dropped to his knees in front of you. 

“Please, can I come inside? SWAT will gun me down if they see me outside.”

“I can’t-”

“Please, Y/N.”

Rebecca was safely asleep in your bedroom with the door shut, and you and James stood in the kitchen. He’d spent hours telling you about Hydra, and everything that had happened. You had his gun, though somehow you doubted if you could stop him, even with it, if he meant to hurt you. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m begging you to believe me.”

“I have to. The alternative... I’d rather die,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands. 

“Is she mine? Rebecca?”

“Rebecca is my baby,” your head jerked up.

James was silent, and you bit your lip, trying to stop the millionth round of tears. 

“I want to believe you, I do, but if you’re lying, it’s not just me. It’s my kid too.”

“You have no reason to trust me, but I promise you I am telling the truth. I want to meet her, Y/N.”

“Sleep on the couch. If we’re all still alive in the morning, I’ll let you meet her. Steve has some normal clothes here you can change into.”

He nodded, and his hand wrapped around your wrist as you went to leave the kitchen. You turned to him, your other hand going to his chest. His dog tags were cold under your fingertips, and you gazed up at him. 

“I’ve loved you this whole time. You’ve kept me alive,” he whispered in the dark.

“I love you, god, I love you more than life,” your voice trembled.

He leaned in and kissed you, hesitant at first. You let yourself kiss him back, tangling your fingers into dark brown hair and kissing the love of your life for the first time in decades. 

You didn’t sleep that night, Rebecca tightly snuggled in your arms. Your eyes were still open when the sun broke over the horizon, hours of tears staining your cheeks. Rebecca stirred in your arms, and you cleaned your face before helping her get up. 

You kissed her head and took her into the living room, carrying her in your arms. You sighed when you saw Bucky was gone but you heard a noise from around the wall. You walked to the kitchen, and saw Bucky well into making pancakes, fresh coffee filling the room with the smell of espresso. 

“I hope it’s alright,” he said quietly, turning off the stove, and you nodded.

“It’s okay,” you answered, carefully setting down your daughter.

“This is Rebecca. My love, this is James. Your father.” 

“Dad? From the pictures? That Uncle Stevie tells me about?” Her small voice asked.

“That’s me. You’re so pretty, Rebecca.” 

Bucky knelt down in front of her, and she blushed, shy around new people. Like her father.

“Do you like pancakes? I made some for you.”

You watched carefully, but you were impressed with how good he was, putting her immediately at ease. You relaxed a bit, even more so when Steve showed up. 

“Uncle Stevie!” Rebecca ran to him when he came in through the door, and he stopped short at the sight of Bucky. You’d warned him, but it didn’t prepare him for the shock of actually seeing him. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” 

[taechaos]

Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Fire and Ice Day for @nessianweek Yes, I just wanted an excuse to write more hockey player Cassian. No, I will not be taking criticisms at this time. Follow up to this drabble. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Nesta steps out of the English building, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, winter air. The lecture hall had been stifling, and the way Professor Matthews had droned on and on about Chekhov had her desperate for the class to end. She cuts across the Commons, heading toward the library, when she hears heavy footsteps fall in beside her. She doesn't need to look to know who they belong to. 

"So about that dinner," Cassian starts. 

"I don't actually recall agreeing to it." 

"Well, how else am I supposed to thank you for being there in my time of concussion need?" 

"You don't need to thank me. Maybe I was just hoping to see if a good thwack to your head would finally fix it. Clearly, it didn't." 

"Sadly, all it did was make my two working brain cells become just one," Cassian says, putting on his best solemn tone. 

The comment pulls a surprised laugh out of Nesta, and when she turns her head to look at Cassian, his smile is wide and his eyes are bright. She swears she can almost see pride swimming in those flecks of gold that make up his hazel eyes. 

"So what time should I pick you up?" 

Nesta doesn't respond. She merely rolls her eyes with a scoff and continues toward the library. That is until Cassian uses his long strides to step in front of her, effectively cutting her path off. 

"What do you have to lose?"

"My sanity?" 

"So 6:00 then?" 

Nesta takes a moment to take Cassian in. He still has that cocky grin that never seems to leave splashed across his face. But she doesn't miss the way he fidgets, running a hand through his tangle of dark curls, nor does she miss the nervous pinch around his eyes. She supposes she could go for a good meal, and while Cassian most definitely gets under her skin, he's not the worst company. 

"I have to meet with my group for our psychology project. 7:00?" 

"Deal." 

The smile on Cassian's face pulls even wider, and Nesta's pretty sure the only thing keeping him from actually cheering is the way he clenches his fists at his side. It's endearing, and Nesta bites the inside of her cheek to keep her own smile tampered down. 

"Well, see you then," Nesta says, starting back toward her original destination of the library. 

"Wear something nice, yeah?" Cassian calls after her. 

Nesta flips him off over her shoulder at the comment, and Cassian's booming laughter follows her all the way across the Commons. 

Luckily, meeting with the students in her group project isn't too migraine inducing. They divvy up the work and all agree on who will take which slides. When she makes it back to her dorm, she pulls a black dress out and gets started on her makeup. 

At 7:00 on the dot, there's a knock at her door. She quickly slips on her heels before pulling it open, Cassian waiting on the other side. The way that Cassian's mouth drops open and the awed way he whispers, "holy shit," has a blush creeping in and settling on Nesta's cheeks. 

"You clean up nice," she notes. 

And he does. Cassian has on a button down, the sleeves rolled up slightly, the tanned skin of his forearms and the ink that swirls against it on full display. Both the shirt and the black slacks he's wearing are form fitting, showing off the athletic cut to his body, years of skating having done wonders for honing the muscles. And while Cassian's dark curls are loose against his shoulders, Nesta can tell he's put product in it. 

Nesta waits for Cassian to make some sort of quip back after her comment, maybe for him to even comment on her, but he just continues to stare like he can't believe she's actually real. She tries not to focus on the fact that look has her heart beating double time in her chest, or the fact that warmth settles through her whole body. Instead, Nesta just rolls her eyes and steps fully into the hall, closing her door behind her. The sound seems to jolt Cassian back to reality, who blinks hard before his eyes focus properly on Nesta's own. 

"Wait," he says. "Bring your skates."

"My skates?" Nesta asks confusedly. "I thought we were going to dinner?"

"We are, but bring them."

"Why?"

"Just bring them." 

Nesta sighs, clearly not getting a straight answer out of him. But she heads back inside, stuffing a heavy pair of socks into her skates. She steps into the hall, skates in hand, and raises a pointed eyebrow as if to ask, 'happy?' Cassian's just answers with a wide grin. 

Cassian leads Nesta down to his truck, and she's surprised when he drives them to one of the higher end chophouses downtown. Dinner is good and the conversation flows easily between them. Cassian even asks Nesta about her current book and actually looks genuinely interested as she explains it. Although, his smirk is infuriating as she tries to subtly skip over the more… scandalous parts. 

After dinner, they clamber back into Cassian's truck, and Nesta's brow pinches in confusion as they pull into the rink parking lot. This explains the skate request. When Nesta looks over at Cassian, his eyes are already on her. Under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, his eyes look extra golden, but Nesta doesn't miss the mischievous glint swimming in them. 

"I'm not exactly dressed for skating," Nesta points out, glancing down at her dress as if to prove her point. 

"Says who?"

"I'm serious." 

Rather than respond, Cassian just reaches back into the backseat of his truck, producing one of the hockey team sweatshirts, which he holds out toward Nesta. Nesta hesitates for only a moment before she's pulling it on over her dress. It's clearly too big on her, but the fabric is soft and the scent of fabric softener and Cassian fills her senses. 

When they get inside, the Friday night public skate is still in full swing, families and awkward high school dates milling about on the ice and in the lobby. In their attire, Nesta is sure that she and Cassian must stick out like sore thumbs. They walk up to the reception desk, and Nesta expects Cassian to ask for two passes for the public skate, but instead he and the rink staffer share a pointed look and then a key is being slid inconspicuously into Cassian's hand. Before Nesta can even start to ask what that means, Cassian is grabbing her hand, pulling her down the hall, past the locker rooms and snack bar. His eyes quickly dart around before he slides the key into the right side of the double doors, tugging Nesta inside and flipping on the lights. 

"The tiny-ass practice rink?" Nesta asks, looking around.

"Bal owes me a favor," Cassian explains, pocketing the key. 

Cassian grabs Nesta's hand again and leads her around to the benches. They each take their time trading their shoes for skates before stepping out onto the ice. 

There's something about the way ice feels under her feet that calms Nesta in a way nothing else can. The cutting sound of her skates against it is like music to her ears. She glides easily to center ice, taking a deep breath and letting the cold welcome her into its embrace. She feels Cassian's presence behind her, warm hands settling on her hips. 

"You know you look better in this sweatshirt than I ever did," he says, voice pitched low. 

"Sounds like a personal problem," Nesta counters, turning around to face Cassian. "It's not my fault even hockey things look better on figure skaters." 

"Big words coming from someone who needs a toe pick to stop."

"That's not what a toe pick is for." 

"How about a race then? To settle things." 

"Fine." 

They both skate over to the goal line, getting into their starting positions. Cassian counts them in with a ‘ready, set, go,’ and then they’re off, sprinting down the ice. Nesta’s hair whips past her face, the cool rink air rushing along her cheeks, as she pushes her legs to go faster and faster still. Cassian crosses the other goal line first, an icy spray flying up as he stops hard before the boards. Nesta stops beside him, crossing her arms as she takes in his wide smirk. 

"You totally cheated."

"What? I did not."

"You have longer legs. It's an unfair advantage."

"Sounds like excuses to me. Just admit it. Hockey players are better."

"Are they? Could a hockey player do this?" 

Nesta pushes off the boards and settles easily into her stride. A swing of her leg and a push of her foot and she's up in the air, pulling her arms in tight as she twists and twists around. Her feet land back on the ice and she glides out of the move gracefully. When her eyes land back on Cassian, his own are wide and awed as he watches her. But then his eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Who’s cheating now?” 

“Fine. Something simple then.” 

Nesta jumps and does a single twist, holding her arms out when she lands and raising an eyebrow toward Cassian in challenge. His eyes stay narrowed on her, but he pushes off the boards, settling into a stride toward center ice. 

“How hard can it be,” Cassian mutters. 

Cassian skates a few circles, clearly trying to walk himself through the move, trying to hype himself up. Nesta has to bite the inside of her cheek while she waits. After a few moments, he throws himself into the air, spinning around once. His skates land back on the ice, and for a moment, Nesta is about to be impressed, but then his left foot is slipping out from under him. He falls ass-first onto the ice with a loud ‘oof.’ 

Nesta can’t help the loud laugh that tears its way out of her chest. She tries to press a hand to her mouth to stifle it, but her whole body shakes with it. When she finally calms down and finds Cassian's stare again, his face is marred with an unimpressed frown. 

“I’m so glad my pain brings you joy,” Cassian says sarcastically before holding his arms up toward her. “Aren’t you going to help me up?” 

“No.” 

Nesta realizes she’s made a mistake. A slow smirk slides across Cassian’s face and even from across the rink, there’s no missing the mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Nesta can even blink, Cassian is on his feet and charging toward her across the ice. The rink is small with nowhere to go, so soon Nesta finds herself cornered back against the boards, Cassian’s arms bracketing her in on either side. 

Cassian opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but it gets lost along the way, and instead he just stares. This close up, Nesta can see the greens hidden in his hazel eyes, the way they flicker under the rink lights. Cassian’s eyes drop down to her lips before settling back on her eyes, and Nesta’s heart does a little flip in her chest. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"What if I say no?"

Cassian leans in closer, and Nesta can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips, is sure that he can feel the way the breath hitches in her throat. 

"Say no, then," Cassian whispers. 

The silence hangs between them for only a second before Cassian closes the distance, pressing his lips to Nesta’s. Nesta practically melts into it, pressing closer as their lips slot and slide against one another. One of Cassian’s hands comes up to bracket her jaw, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist. She can feel the way he sighs against her lips, the deep groan in his chest as the kiss deepens. 

"Hey, why are the lights on back here?" 

They break apart at the sudden voice, Cassian taking Nesta’s hand and tugging her down so they’re hidden behind the boards and out of sight. They can hear the footsteps of the rink staffer walking around, and Nesta turns to glare at Cassian. 

"I swear, if we end up arrested because of you…"

"Don't worry. I'd never let that happen. We're both too pretty for jail."

[jobean12-blog]

Lumberjack in Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Lumberjack AU)

Word Count: 1,580

Summary: You’re new to town and you meet your very first neighbor. 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club drunk drabbles and clean up the archive challenge. It took me a minute to grab his great prompt up buy my lovely friend @eurynome827 totally inspired me and boom here it is. Hope you enjoy. I really liked writing this! Thank you all so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ My beautiful divider is by my love @imerdwarf

Warnings: sweet and soft fluff, shy Bucky being a sweet hunk of beefy goodness :)

As you sit on the small porch of your new house and look around you still can’t believe the beauty of the mountains. It’s early Spring so the mornings are still chilly, and you pull your blanket scarf tighter around your shoulders.

A distant bark catches your attention, and you squint through the trees to see a white fluff bounding right toward you. Your first instinct is to run into the house but then you hear the deep voice of the man running after the animal and you pause.

As they get closer you can clearly see it’s a large dog and instantly relax.

“Winter! Come back here right now!” the man yells just as the dog happily trots up your steps.

He nudges his nose under your hand for a pet and you can’t help but oblige.

“Winter!” the man growls and you instantly look up.

And you keep looking up for what feels like miles until you reach the crystal blue eyes of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His long chestnut hair is pulled back into a low bun, but a few pieces have come loose and now frame his perfectly shaped jaw.

Your eyes wander over his plump lips and dark beard before you take in the rest of him. The soft flannel he wears is pulled tight over his broad shoulders and chest with the sleeves rolled up and barely containing his biceps.

The leather belt at his waist is worn and soft but seems pointless when the dark jeans he’s wearing are practically painted onto his thick thighs.  Heavy boots cover his feet as they seem to continuously shuffle back and forth while you shamelessly check him out.

You stand and hold out your hand, introducing yourself. At first he just stares at you then down at your hand before wiping his own on his pants. His large hand closes around yours, the warmth and strength sending a new wave of appreciation through you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he says quietly, holding onto your hand a bit longer than necessary before quicky letting go and shuffling on his feet again.

“It’s nice to meet you Bucky,” you reply, pointing at the dog. “And who is this?” you ask.

“Oh! Right. That’s Winter. Sorry about that. He took off after a squirrel and then he must have caught your scent. There aren’t too many people around here so…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“He’s beautiful,” you gush, scratching Winter behind the ears but never taking your eyes from Bucky.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips and his mouth opens but nothing comes out. After a few more seconds of silence, he seems to find his voice.

“Thanks! He’s a good boy, just adventurous. I hope he uh, didn’t disturb you or anyone else,” he mumbles, gesturing toward your house.

“Not at all,” you assure him. “It’s just me and I’m happy he came to say hello and brought you along too. You’re the first neighbor I’ve met.”

“I think I’m your only neighbor,” he laughs. “I’m just about a quarter of a mile that way and I think the next house might be two and half miles passed me.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s you. And Winter is just a bonus,” you flirt.

The pink that creeps up his cheeks only makes you like him more and can’t stop your giggle.

“I’m about to make some blueberry muffins. Could I bring you some when they’re done?” you ask. “I can’t eat them all myself.”

“Yeah! I love muffins! Thank you,” he replies with a lopsided grin.  

“Ok great! I’ll see you soon,” you cheer, giving him a beaming smile. “Just that way right?” you ask him, pointing at the path in the trees.

“Huh?” he answers, staring and blinking a few times. “Oh, yea. My house. It’s uh, yep just down that path, can’t miss it.”

He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and kicks at some imaginary dirt.

“Ok then, I’ll see you soon Bucky and Winter,” you say and start to walk up your steps.

He waits for you to get to the door and open it before waving and jogging off, Winter hot on his heels.

When the blueberry muffins are baked and still warm you pack them up with some butter and start the short walk to Bucky’s house. The path is lined with stones and the tall evergreen trees create a beautiful aromatic frame along the dirt. The sound of cracking wood reaches your ears the closer you get.

At the end of the path the land opens up to large piece of green grass with the perfect log cabin sitting at the back. You smile when you see Winter sitting on the porch, his big and fluffy tail thumping loudly on the wood.

You look to the right and finally see the source of the sound. Bucky stands over a pile of wood and a large tree stump, wielding a large axe with ease. He brings it up above his head and swings it down, splitting the wood perfectly.

It’s hard to tear your eyes away from him and the way his muscles move under the tight clothing. It isn’t until Winter’s cold nose hits your leg that you look away and start walking again.

Winter’s happy barks pull Bucky’s attention from the wood and he turns to you. He sets down the axe and comes over to take the basket from your hands.

“Hi again,” he says sweetly, quickly looking at the muffins before his eyes meet yours again. “I’m glad you came back.”

You hook your arm through his. “Of course, I did,” you state obviously and pull him toward the porch. “Who else am I going to share these muffins with.”

He chuckles and dips his head, unable to hide the permanent flush on his cheeks whenever he’s around you.

“We could sit on the porch swing if you want. Or if it’s too cold you’re welcome to come in,” he tells you. “I could make tea. Do you drink tea? I also have coffee if you prefer. Or something cold? I should have lemonad…”

He’s about to go on but you reach up and place your hand on his cheek.

“Tea is just fine Bucky, thank you,” you say softly. “And we can sit out here. It’s so beautiful and the sun is warm.”

He nods a few times before rushing into the house to make the tea. You sit on the swing and prepare the muffins, gently pushing yourself back and forth with your foot. Winter lays just a few feet away in a warm patch of sunshine.

“Ok, hot tea coming right up,” Bucky says as he pushes the screen door open with his butt.

He sits opposite you on the bench, the basket of muffins between you and places the cups on the small table to the side.

“I brought honey, milk and sugar. I hope one of those will be ok,” he says.

“Perfect, thank you! I hope you like the muffins. I have butter for them too,” you say, holding one up on a napkin.

He takes it and has a bite, the crumbling dough breaking apart and getting stuck on his lips and in his beard.

“Wow. These are amazing,” he raves before taking another large bite.

You move the basket from between your bodies and shift closer to him. You bring your fingers up to his chin and lightly brush off the crumbs before swiping your thumb over his lips.

“They’re very crumbly and messy,” you explain, letting your gaze settle on his mouth before taking a bite of your own muffin.

“They’re perfect,” he stammers, clearly reacting to your touch.

His eyes watch as your tongue traces your lips to clean them of crumbs and he audibly swallows.

“These are amazing,” he mumbles, unmoving.

“You said that already,” you tease, squeezing his bicep before reaching for a cup of tea.

“Did I?” he says, more to himself than you. “I did. Didn’t I?”

You nod with a giggle and take a sip of tea. Winter trots over and rests his nose on the edge of the swing, clearly waiting for someone to share.

“Can I give him a piece?” you ask.

“Sure,” Bucky replies, laughing when Winter scarfs down the piece of muffin in one bite. “That’s one of the ways we’re the same. He loves to eat as much as I do.”

You throw your head back with a laugh.

“Well, that works out just great for me because I love to bake and cook!” you tell him. “As a matter of fact, I’m making pot pie for dinner. You should join me.”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate for a second when he answers.

“I’d love that. Pot pie is on of my favorites.”

You take one last sip of your tea before standing and covering the muffins.  

“The rest are for you,” you say, pushing the basket toward him. “And I have a feeling you’ll say that about a lot of the things I make,” you say playfully. “I’ll see you at 6 sharp then?”

“Yes, definitely,” he whispers, his eyes going wide when you lean in to place a soft kiss to his cheek.

“See you then, Bucky. And don’t forget to bring Winter and an appetite,” you yell as you head back down the path to your house.

@addikted-2-dopamine @bugsbucky​ @book-dragon-13​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @fxckbuckyscoming​ @hiddles-rose​ @jhangelface0523​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @jewels2876​ @littleredstarfish​ @lookiamtrying​ @lorilane33​ @loricameback​ @la-cey @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @cherryblossomskye​ @tuiccim​ @whatrambles​ @white-wolf1940​

[illyaana]

Collab: Chaos's Bearsday Collab by @chaos-night

Thanks for having this Collab hun! I hope you had/have an amazing birthday <3

Tags: Aged Up! Birthday boy! Izuku Midoriya x Binaural, SFW, Fluff

Synopsis: You thought this was going to be a normal birthday with Deku - the only thing that was different is you were going to make Katsudon, pork cutlet bowls, for Deku. What you weren't prepared for was a flirty Izuku Midoriya.

Word Count: 1689

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Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

You groaned at the sound of your blaring alarm, forcing you awake. You raised your head to meet Izuku’s chin. His hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body even more. You pressed against the bed, pushing yourself upwards to face the sleeping face of your beloved.

You adored the sight of the defenceless hero.

His dishevelled green hair mimicked a bush in the woods - wild yet so adorable. His lips were slightly parted, allowing soft snores to escape the powerful quirk user. His small freckles glowed under the soft sunlight entering your shared room from the window, leaving you in awe. His long lashes framed his closed eyelids.

Thankfully, your alarm turned itself off - he wasn’t letting you move anymore, not with the vice grip he had around you tightening unknowingly.

You couldn’t resist the urge to run the pad of your thumb against his soft lips - it looked so soft and supple. The rest of your fingers found their place on Izuku’s cheek, enjoying the warmth only he could radiate. You smiled, looking at the sleeping Izuku subconsciously pressing his cheeks against your fingers.

This is what you believed a life spent with him would look like - and you pray so that it stays like this.

“Hey,” you say as you kiss Midoriya’s forehead, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Your alarm began to ring again, causing the hero beside you to groan loudly.

“Turn that thing off,” he said, placing his head on your shoulder, “We don’t need to wake up early today.”

This man… how was he the top hero?

You ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to wake you up early today?” you ask, recalling your conversation with him yesterday.

“I just wanted to spend the whole day with you, but I think we can do it from this bed, can’t we?” he said, pressing kisses on the nape of your neck.

“I think you forgot, Deku,” you say, cupping his cheeks, “You have a press conference with Bakugo and Todoroki today - you know, about your job as a hero?”

His eyelids shot open.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“It’s only,” you looked at the wall clock, “9 am right now. You have about 1 hour to get ready and head to the studio. That trip would take about 20 minutes.”

You smiled when you saw him visibly relax.

“Sadly,” you say, “You aren’t getting breakfast from me since I couldn’t even move one inch from the bed,” you gesture to his arms on your waist.

You kissed his forehead again, trying to wipe off the guilty smile he had on his face.

“Happy birthday, Midoriya Izuku. Now, go get ready.”

He kissed the apples of your cheeks before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thanks, love.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

The minute you heard the door close, you got out your phone and called your mother-in-law.

“Hi!” she answered cheerfully, “You ready to do this?”

You turned the voice call into a video call, then propped your phone behind the salt shaker.

“Hopefully…” you trail off as you put on your apron, “You don’t think I’ll burn anything or cause a fire, right?”

“If you’re anything like Izuku in terms of cooking, we’ll be fine.”

You weren’t.

Pancakes, waffles - you could handle that.

But meat? It definitely was not your forte.

Izuku’s the one who handled all the savoury dishes while you were the resident taste tester.

“Don’t worry - the very person who introduced him to the savoury dish is right here, showing you each step in detail. You won’t mess up that much,” you said to yourself as you brought out the ingredients.

You laid them out in front of her, allowing her to examine them thoroughly.

“First things first,” she said, moving to her couch, “You’re wearing your apron wrongly.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

You stared at the pan filled with onions, eggs and fried pork, feeling defeated.

You were supposed to move all of that into a small bowl of rice.

You were supposed to move a bunch of slippery onions doused in sauce, a steamed omelette that looked like it was going to break into two and a pork cutlet that you slaved over - all of that, into a small bowl of rice.

“Trust me, it’s pretty easy,” Inko said, trying to calm you down, “It just looks intimidating.”

“Intimidating is one way to explain it,” you said, staring at your hard work.

“Just do it, don’t worry - you have multiple backup pork cutlets if you mess up.”

“I know, but-”

“Just do it.”

You immediately placed the toppings into the bowl of rice without any spillage.

...or so you thought.

The whole thing spilt over the sides of the pan, missing the bowl of rice entirely.

“Try again, dear,” she said smiling, “No harm in trying again.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

After 5 tries, you managed to make two perfect bowls of fresh katsudon. The smell of the fried pork cutlets wafted through the air, making you smile at your hard work.

“It looks really good, dear,” she said, smiling, “He’ll love it.”

You smile at her cheerful gaze towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to come over? It’s just a fifteen-minute drive.”

“I appreciate you asking me,” she said, sighing, “But I think you two should spend the day together. I’m pretty sure you both haven’t spent much time together since your honeymoon.”

“You sure?” you ask once again.

“I’m very, very sure,” she says, chuckling, “Now go get ready.”

You placed your phone flat on the countertop and started to set the table. As soon as you finished, Izuku came into the house, a tired expression painted on his face.

“You okay?” You say as you walk towards him.

“How rude of them to make me work on my own birthday?” he chuckled softly.

He looked to the dining table and his eyes lit up.

“Did you made Katsudon?” he asked, the tired expression he once had leaving his face.

“Yeah, I did,” you say as you help him take off his jacket.

“However,” you place his hands on his chest, “You need to go bathe.”

“What’s with everyone bullying me today?” he huffed.

“Bullying or taking care of you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he trailed off.

“Just go bathe,” you say, chuckling as you push him towards your room.

“Oh no,” he said as you pushed him, “My feet can’t move.”

This grown kid.

“So I’m supposed to carry you bridal style now?” you joke.

“ I did it to you, didn’t I?” he whispers in your ear.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks the minute the sentence left his lips.

This man…

“Wow, my feet work now! I’ll go bathe,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

This man is too cute for his own good.

⁜

⁜

⁜

“This…” he said, mouth stuffed with food, “This is really good!”

You smile, looking at the green-haired male scarfing down the food you made. You loved the little sparkle he had in his eyes whenever he truly enjoyed something - and to your luck, it was the food you prepared for him.

“You seriously made this by yourself?” He asked with his eyebrow raised.

“You don’t see your mom here, do you?”

“You sure you didn’t order in?” He teased again.

You kicked his leg under the table, causing him to wince in pain.

“Oh, how you wound me,” he said, faking tears.

“Serves you right for making fun of me,” you huff.

He got off of his chair and headed to the sink to wash his bowl.

“Well, to be fair,” you add, “I did video call your mom so she could teach me.”

“So I was right, then,” he said as he places his bowl in the sink and turning to face you.

“She didn’t make it, though!”

“You said you made it all by yourself, but you got my mother’s help. Hence, you lied to me,” he put his arms on the countertop.

“I didn’t lie to you,” you say, laughing, “I really made it by myself.”

Izuku was already standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands.

“You kicked me,” he stared at you, “You kicked a tired hero.”

“Heroes don’t tease others as much as you do,” you retort.

“What is my purpose in your life but to tease you?”

“A lot of things actually,” you say, smiling at him.

“Oh? Like what?”

“First of all,” you put your hand on his chest, “Where did this flirty Izuku come from?”

“Maybe,” he put his thumb on your lower lip, “He came because I am using my birthday privileges to be a little more flirty than usual.”

You stare at his green orbs. They glimmered even under his own shadow. Its golden flecks shined just for you and you alone. The creases of his eyes curved upwards, showing you how happy he was just to be in your presence. The wild forest he calls his hair had rogue strands that tickled your cheeks. You loved how soft they were - especially after him just washing it roughly an hour ago.

Your hand on his chest began to outline the scars he cultivated through his years under All Might’s wing and his hero training back in UA. You smiled as you remembered how strong-willed he was as a boy to become a hero, and now he was - standing on the very top.

“You okay?” he asked, worried.

“I was just thinking of how much you’ve grown from back then,” you look up to his face, meeting his eyes that were staring straight at you.

“For someone who took so many notes back then, you’re really dumb,” you both chuckle.

“How are you still bullying me?” he sighed.

“Endure it, Deku,” you joke, imitating Bakugou.

You close your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the small moment you’re sharing with the male in front of you.

“Happy birthday, Izuku.”

“Thank you, love.”

You both shared a kiss, both bellies and hearts full.

[bucky-barmes]

☾✧✧✧ I'm just looking for a good night ✧✧✧☽

female enhanced!reader x tfatws!Bucky

In which you get dragged into a mess in Madripoor while just trying to enjoy yourself. But is the infamous Winter Soldier as bad as you always thought?

[ a/n: idk what this exactly is but i don't hate it, and who doesn't love asshole bucky? maybe i just have a problem, also loosely based on that madripoor episode. also also tried something new for the writing style so i hope you don't mind lemme know if it's shit ]

Minka is polish for strong-willed one, and is a name but here it’s used as a nickname as it’s reader insert

[ word count: ~3,580 words (this started as a lil drabble of reader meeting bucky at a bar, but i guess my brain had other ideas)

includes: asshole bucky, swearing - like a lot (i'm aussie okay?), drinking (alcoholism?), it's pretty fkn angsty, asshole bucky (i'm warning you ok), no -18 pls as it's not entirely g rated & has some implications

[ all works are my own, do not steal, repost or translate ]

tagging some friends (message if you wanna be on a perm taglist/if you don't wanna be tagged in future (i won't take it to heart i promise)) @sweetdreamsbuck @beefybuckrrito @mymindslabyrinth @igotnoname4thisblog @theluxuriousfangirl @posinhay @barnesand1

The music was blaring, sending vibrations through her body as she swayed to the fast beat. Drink sloshing around as she waved her arms around her above her head. This was it. This was living. Drunk, surrounded by strangers. No one knew her and she knew no one. She was free. And it was incredible.

Going to clubs alone was dangerous, she couldn't remember the number of times her mother had warned her not to. She must have been rolling in her grave at her daughter not only going to a club alone, but to a club in Madripoor no less. The thrill that anything could happen only exciting her more. That, and knowing that the Powerbroker wouldn't let anything happen to her, wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on her. That was the perk of being enhanced and not looking like it, it made you useful.

She had lost track of the hours, and the drinks, thinking only of how good the music made her feel. Of how nothing had felt this good in so long.

She waded through the sea of people, already locking eyes with the bartender as she made a beeline for the bar. She was stopped in her tracks, however, by a wall of bodies.

An almost animalistic growl ripped through her as she slapped her hand down on the shoulder of the man in the middle, a big fur collar adorning his coat. A hard hand gripped her wrist in response and her eyes shifted slowly from the back of man one to the owner of the hand.

Her eyes widened at who they landed on, then narrowed to barely visible slits. Yanking her hand back she didn't break her glare.

"I'm sorry, Dove, did we cut in?" The voice of the middle man broke her chain of thought, and when she looked back to him, he had turned to face her. "How about we buy you a drink to apologise."

"I don't want your handouts, Baron." Venom dripped from her words as she spat back her response. She wedged herself between the Baron and the third man, not someone she recognised, to snatch the drink the bartender placed out for her. "Besides, I don't pay here anyway, don't want you wasting your money."

She was about to work her way back through the crowd of people and to the middle of the dance floor again when she had a thought.

"Hold the fucking phone." Spinning on the spot, her eyes narrowed again, this time at the Baron, but that didn't stop her from seeing the man to his left step forward defensively.

"How are you even here? Last I heard you were stuck in a prison in Germany." Her drink was down and she slammed the glass down on the bar, getting threateningly close to him as she did. "Thought you were never getting out after what you did to them." Her sentence trailed off as her eyes flicked to the man next to him, the one with the metal arm.

The Baron offered her his signature smug smile. "Some people had other plans."

"Well, whatever you're planning," She closed the gap between them further. The shifting of bodies next to them was halted with a raise of the Baron's hand. "Stay the fuck away from me." Hatred seeped from her whole body.

Snatching the new drink that was placed on the bar, her gaze was turned to the apparent bodyguard.

"And I'd think twice before you lay a hand on me again." There was no response, but a subtle cocky smirk instead that only heated her further. She was gone before any of them could speak another word to her.

She was only able to start enjoying herself once more when the sight of the three men had disappeared, then, she was able to let her guard down and the beat of the music slowly took her over again. Until she got a call.

Plugging her other ear so she could hear, she took mental note of the location she was told to move to. The call ended abruptly, they always did with the Powerbroker, but this one was serious. She had begun picking up on the subtle differences between the calls.

Her gun was pulled from her thigh holster as she advanced towards the room Selby used for meetings.

She listened from a distance, the ability being one of many. A phone rang. An awkward silence as the conversation started. Names were thrown around, first Smiling Tiger. 'Yeah, that guy was definitely not Smiling Tiger', she thought to herself as she listened, remembering her run in with him one time. The phone call ended with a goodbye to "Sam"?

There were gunshot before she had time to process anything further.

Kicking the door down, she stepped through slowly, gun raised. It had fallen silent, the three men stood in the middle of the room.

"Holy fuck, what did you do?" Her voice was a mix of shock and anger. The men snapped their heads up.

"Things didn't exactly go according to plan, Dove." The Baron regretfully shrugged as he looked around at the collection of bodies on the floor, inclusive of Selby's.

"Well, why the fuck am I-" A fifth person joined the room before she could finish.

"Because the Powerbroker requested it." Sharon Carter approached her, stone-faced. “And nobody disobeys the Powerbroker.”

“I don’t know, I might’ve had I know it was for these idiots.” She was dead serious as she said it, glaring at the men responsible for the bodies strewn about.

Sharon shot the other woman a look, a look that said ‘you better cut it out right now’.

"Don't, Minka." Sharon's use of the others' nickname amplified the seriousness of it all.

The men in the room didn’t know it, but she, Minka, was the only one who knew who the Powerbroker really was. And you could say she was somewhat of a bodyguard for them.

“The Powerbroker requested it. End of, so get over it.” Sharon snapped at her.

“I can’t believe you’re helping these people.” Her grip on her gun tightened as she interrogated Sharon. “After everything that happened last time.” Her sentence ended with a scoff, clicking on the safety of her gun. She didn't place it back in her holster just yet though.

“Enough.” Sharon’s remark was a bark. An order. “Whether you like it or not, you’re involved now, you’ve seen the bodies. You’re part of it now.”

Minka just glared at her, mumbling “lucky me” under her breath as her daggers turned to the men again. Her anger only bubbled more when she saw the one with the metal arm, the Winter Soldier, staring right back, something she couldn’t quite pick up on behind his cold eyes.

Many hours and gun fights later, everyone made it Sharon's place alive, much to the acrimony of some of them. Of Minka.

"You have a beautiful place, Miss Carter." Baron was walking around, admiring the art as he made the genuine compliment, but he was being eyed. Sharon's personal guard wasn't about to let him touch, ruin, anything.

"Don't touch anything, and get changed, everyone knows what we're wearing now." The last part was directed at the whole group. "And you look like shit, too." Her nose scrunched as she looked them over. Even her associate was included in the statement.

Sharon watched as her figure retreated to the room she had set up, she was there often enough to warrant her own one, and then directed the men to where they could pick out some clothes and change.

There was a soft thump as her body landed on the bed, and she released a long sigh into the covers.

"Yeah, Sharon, I'm not in the mood." Her voice was mumbled from the bed, but was loud enough to hear the frustration.

"Minka, huh?" That was not the voice of Sharon Carter. Her head snapped up to face the door to her room that she swore she locked.

"You don't get to call me that." If looks could kill, the man in the doorframe would have dropped to the floor in record time.

"Is that not your name, Doll?" Arms folded over his chest, a mix of metal and flesh.

"Is your name The Winter Soldier?" The words were laced with malice as she slid off the bed, moving towards him to push him out of her room, her safe space. "Now if you don't mind getting the fuck away from me."

A heavy boot stopped the door from clicking into place, his metal hand forcing it back open, eyes dark. "No, I don't think I will." He stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him. This time it was her that stopped the door from closing, hand gripped tightly on the handle, pulling back.

"You've got some fucking nerve coming here like that." Minka yanked the handle as the soldier pushed the door harder, breaking it clean off. "Coming back into Sharon's life like you aren't the one that fucked it up in the first place." The handle dropped with a loud thud.

For a moment, something flashed through his eyes. Regret? Sadness? Whatever it was lasted a mere second before he regained control.

"So, you're like me?" His gaze dropped to the handle on the ground, taking the opportunity to gaze down her body as he did.

It was all she could do from punching him right then and there. "Absolutely not!" If the venom in her voice wasn't evident before, it definitely was now. "I don't kill innocents."

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The soldier staring down darkly at the smaller woman.

"It's Bucky."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"My name, it's Bucky. And you can call me that."

She couldn't hold back the scoff that fell from her lips. "I won't be calling you anything. After all this shit is cleaned up, you'll never see me again."

Bucky's head tilted ever so slightly, his voice soft but dark. "I wouldn't be so sure of that." But before she was able to punch question him, Sharon's voice bellowed through the building.

"Downstairs, now."

The pair ripped their eyes from each other, Minka's falling to the handle on the floor. "I'm telling her you broke that. Now fuck off so I can change." And she shoved him out of the room, closing the door over between them, making sure to not close it the whole say so she could actually get out when she was ready.

By the time she had finished getting ready and made her way down to everyone else, people had begun meandering in, admiring the art.

"Took you long enough." Sharon walked up behind her, whispering harshly in her ear.

"Yeah, well you can thank your old friend for that. He's an asshole, by the way." "And he's not a friend." "Well he's the reason I need a drink." She turned to face Sharon, giving her a look of 'I hate you for dragging me into this' before heading to the bar, fully intending on double parking it the whole night.

It didn't take long for her to finally loosen up again, 5 drinks to be exact, and be back in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by sweaty bodies. It may have been an art auction, but nothing was ever not a party in Madripoor, especially if it was organised by the Powerbroker themself.

Minka was so caught up in the moment that she had forgotten entirely about the events of the day, the people of the day.

She had, yet again, lost track of the number of drinks she'd had. But every drink handed her way was downed immediately, not taking any time to register where, or more like who, they were coming from. That was always her greatest weakness, denying alcohol.

She was happily about to take yet another unknown drink being handed to her, when it was snatched from her reach and discarded on a nearby table.

"Hey, what the fuck, that was mine!" She growled, turning with her fist ready to launch into whoever had the nerve to steal her drink.

"Stop taking drinks from strangers, are you an idiot?" Suddenly the memories of the men she had to deal with throughout the day came flooding back. "You're gonna get spiked- in fact, you were about to with that one."

"What? Have you been keeping an eye on me? That's not very Winter Soldier of you." Her tone was mocking as she glared up at Bucky, struggling to stand thanks to the combination of copious amounts of alcohol and continuous movement of people around her.

Bucky placed his large hands on her biceps to keep her steady, eyes narrowing at her words. "You really don't know how to be nice to people, do you?"

"You really don't know how to stay the fuck away from people that don't like you, do you?" She retorted immediately, pulling herself from his grip. "I don't need a goddamn babysitter, especially not you. You don't exactly have the best track record with protecting people." Her back was turned to him and stalking off before she even finished her sentence, but she was yanked back in by her forearm.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You're being watched like a hawk by at least 3 men. Who knows how many of them are trying to spike you and get you separated from the crowd." Bucky's eyes were anywhere but hers, scanning the vast room for anything suspicious, clearly on high alert.

"I don't understand why you fucking care?" Bucky's eyes snapped down to hers, alarmed by her intensity.

"Keep your voice down or you're gonna draw attention to us." He hissed at her, lowering his head and pulling her arm to move her closer to him.

"Good, maybe security will see you're harassing me and escort you out." She snarled, anger rising with every word he spoke. "I'm just looking for a good fucking night and you've managed to ruin it twice now."

"Well take it up with Sharon then, she's the one that told me to keep an eye on you. So clearly she thinks you do need a babysitter." He dropped her arm, that would be enough to keep her in her spot for now.

"You're lying." Her words were barely above a whisper, eyes narrowed at him. "She knows I can hold my own. She's literally hired me for personal protection before."

"Clearly not this time." Bucky's eyes were back to scanning the room. "Not with the types of people here tonight." Minka couldn't help but scoff.

"Oh, because you know Madripoor, right? You've spent how many years here? Oh, that's right, none." She suddenly saw her opportunity to escape, Bucky's eyes not trained on her and her arms free.

"Tell her, as much as I appreciate it, she can shove it." And with that she had weaved her way though the crowd of bodies.

But her abandonment didn't last nearly as long as she had hoped.

All of a sudden she was being pushed against the far wall of the room where she was escaping to, breath knocked out of her.

"What the fu-" Lips landing on hers cut off her protests. Her eyes widened when she realised who said lips belonged to.

"Get off of me!" She spat when she was finally able to push Bucky off. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"People are following you. If they know you're with me they're less likely to try something."

"I'm not with you. In fact, I want to be as far away from you as physically possible right now." Bucky's arms, which were trapping her in by pressing against the wall either side of her face, fell to his side. His face turned emotionless for a moment before returning to his usual arrogant demeanour.

"You can't tell me you didn't feel the spark." He winked, a cocky grin plastered on his face when he saw the heat creep to her cheeks.

"Please, you wish there was a spark." Her eyes rolled as she paused. "I've had knife fights with more spark than that."

"Maybe we should have a knife fight sometime then." Bucky's response was quick, and smooth.

"Have you forgotten that you're never going to see me again after all this shit? Although," Minka tapped her chin in mock thought. "If you're offering to let me stab you, I'll gladly take you up on that." Unlike Bucky's, her face held no semblance of humour.

"I'm sure you'll change your mind by the end of it." Bucky eyed her suggestively.

"God, please don't tell me you're into me. Maybe I do want those supposed guys to take me, seems better than the alternative." She groaned at the thought of having to deal with him fawning after her.

Bucky's face indicated that that was definitely not he case. His eyes, however, suggested her words had hurt him a little. "God, never. But if you really want, I can hand deliver you to them myself." He pointed in the direction of said men.

Her nose crinkled. "Okay, maybe not them."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Sharon, we have a serious problem!" Minka stormed into the kitchen after the last few people had left and the party was over, Bucky not far behind her. "So I need a babysitter now? I thought I was the personal protection around here." Her fist collided heavily with the table.

"You are," Sharon looked at her nonchalantly as she poured herself a glass of whiskey. "Until alcohol is involved. You're as useless as that new Captain America when there's booze around." A sip. "Case in point." Sharon hummed, watching your eyes follow her glass from bench, to mouth, to bench again.

"Oh please." She snorted. "And you thought pairing me with this idiot was a good idea?" He hand gestured back to Bucky at idiot, not caring if it offended him. "He just makes me want to drink more."

Sharon was about to give her a look, but Minka just shook her head, throwing her hands up. "No, I'm not dealing with this tonight. I'm going to bed." "Take him with you." Sharon nodded towards Bucky.

"Oh fuck no, why the fuck would I-" "Because everyone knows you're involved, and your head is on a spike now, too. They want you dead, Minka." She couldn't argue with Sharon when she used her nickname for her. And the pain in her voice was evident.

"Fine, but you're sleeping on the floor." Bucky just shrugged, "nothing new."

"You sleep there." A finger pointed to the sofa on the far side of the room. Conveniently away from the bed. "I'll get you a blanket."

Bucky's brow quirked. "I thought I was on the floor?" He feigned confusion, head tilting to the side before his cocky smirk returned.

"Keep going and you will be." The blanket was thrown at his face, along with a pillow.

"A pillow too? Wow, it's like a 5 star hotel." She just glared.

"If you snore, you're out. If you sleep talk, you're out. You make any sort of noise and you're out. Capisce?"

"Guess it's a good thing I don't sleep then, huh?" Bucky threw the blanket and pillow onto the sofa.

"Now see, that just makes it weird. Like that scene from Twilight." "Well, yeah, when you put it like that it is." His face screwed up at the thought, recalling the scene.

"How do you- Actually no, I'm tired and I don't care." She had been about to ask how he understood the reference, but decided that was going to open a whole can of worms that she didn't care about.

"I may be over 100, but I have seen Twilight. Wanda made me watch it with her." He didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was about to ask. And he didn't blame her, it probably would be surprising that a 106 year old had seen Twilight.

"Don't worry, Doll, I won't stare. Much." And now it was her turn to scrunch her face up.

"If you fucking touch me, I'll rip that metal arm from your body and shove it so far up your ass." Her sentence trailed off, however, when Bucky stepped closer to her, his gaze intense as he looked down at her.

"And how do you think I would touch you?" Another step closer, making her step back and gulp.

With her mouth agape, Minka was lost for words, probably for the first time in her life. Sharon unknowingly came to her rescue, though, when she knocked on the door while entering.

"Set your alarm for 6," Her eyes narrowed at them both and the distance, or lack there of, between them. "We've gotta be out of here asap tomorrow. Make sure you get enough sleep." "Will do, Sharon." Minka's gaze flicked to her, nodding once before she left the room, confusion plastered on her features.

"Right, well that's bed time then." Her tongue ran over her lips nervously, and she was painfully aware of Bucky's eyes watching. "I'm going to get changed." She turned and basically ran to the bathroom attached to her room.

"I'll be out here waitin'." "You're disgusting, don't think anything." "Wouldn't dream of it, doll."