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onlyswan · 1 month

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summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction

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tarjapearce · 3 months

Text

Dr. Michael Stone (Pt. 2)

Art and Character by: Spiderthingcoo on X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, forced voyeurism, body exploration, edging, double v penetration, female anatomy, rough and drugged induced sex, manhandling, substance abuse, 3some-ish, rimming (m receiving) nudity appreciation, breeding kink, a bit of dacryphilia, Objectification, overstimulation, filthyness undercut, no proofread, bit of cum play, bellybulge, electrocution, Michael is a sick fuck and I love him.

Miguelverse

Summary: Michael Stone has the time of his life.

A/N: I got too carried away and the fanart didn't help jskjs, hope you enjoy <3

Time ran at the speed of a snail. Each blink was torture, like you were removing seconds from the clock with each brief pause of your eyes.

How long have you been here? Certainly too fed up with trying in succeeding to escape. There was no punctual way to determine in which part of the day you were as there was no windows, no clocks, or anything of the sort that dictated the unstoppable force that always outlasted everything within reach.

Just dull pale grey walls, borderline white in every direction your sight stretched. Which wasn't much.

Your new habitat, was minimalistic, decored with the basics to sate physiological needs such as sleep, shower or pee. Ceiling too lowered to crawl or stretch your muscles properly when you tried to keep mobility going.

A fancy cage, nothing much, nothing less.

How long had it been since he slammed the door shut? Days? Week?

You didn't know. And the lack of a sense of time was irrevocably screwing with your head in a way it resembled how Michael had fucked your insides. There was no sun to bath in, no wind to blow and mess with your hair as you swung through the buildings, providing the right amount of adrenaline, no structures to crawl or stretch your muscles completely on. No external stimulus.Nothing.

Just a few meters of space that caged you like a live sample for a maniac's twisted experimenting and amusement. Fed and cleaned whenever you required it. It sometimes blurred the line between being a pet and a Guinea pig.

Just your cell, withering away your spirit. Even the food provided, lacked that homey seasoning you adored indulging in HQ's cafeteria after a mission. The only rift of color popping in the tray and around you were the vast array of vitamins and minerals, shaped in round and squared pills, nested within a metallic cup.

Cause according to him, if his offspring was to emerge within you, your body had to be properly nurtured. Ironically, the food was bland and tasteless, but you didn't starve. And it spooked you how easy your body took a liking to it.

Skin healthier, glowing and silky even, a soft natural flush dressed your cheeks, metabolism in its peak, a couple of pounds were lost, but that was the least of your concerns.

He was set into perfecting the vessel for his future seedling. You.

Michael was... You didn't even know where to start besides being the obvious doppelganger of Miguel. The only way you could tell them apart was because of his eyes. They were brown, like the most scrumptious shade of chocolate you've ever seen.

Unlike Miguel, he just took what he wanted and needed, everything in the name of science. He was the embodiment of 'the end justifies the means'.

Alluring, inviting you to a forbidden and fucked up world where he was the unanimous and dangerous sovereign. Like his whole aura. His impassive act was only a coy facade to hide what was underneath.

Madness, lust and something so dern you didn't want to try and decipher cause in truth, you were terrified to fuck around and find out. He had already gave you a little taste of his abyss, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you to drown in him and everything that rendered his mere existence.

He needed to crown a queen for his chaos. And what a better way to do it, than choosing you to give him a perfect offspring.

In his own twisted world the need of a superior being was a must. A need he was creating the proper foundation to sate.

He was prepping you to bare his child. And it scared you to no end. Not that you didn't want kids, but to be forced to fit into that role out of sudden scared you shitless.

And you didn't want to sour and make your thoughts awkward by knowing a variant of Miguel would be the father.

Fuck. No.

If your mind could have arms, it surely would've slapped itself for such thought. Not that you didn't think Miguel was handsome, in fact, you avoided being seen as that recruit that had the hots for the boss, lingering too much around him made you more nervous than you liked to admit.

And when you were paired with him, the anxiety of knowing you could mess up went heavenwards. Your Miguel wasn't one to dwell into conversations if they weren't necessary, canon before personal interests came first and always, awkward social skills that came out stilted and forced almost mechanically, specially when someone caught him off guard or in the high level of stress his gorgeous brain fed him on a daily basis.

Grumpy was his default emotional read, snarky or dry humored replies when dumb questions were asked, overworked to the bone. Secretly labeling himself as a bad man cause of the things he needed to do in order to keep the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse working, a walking failure through and through, weak for meeting his emotional needs and trying to be happy for once and failing at it, and apparently the only one that knew how to keep everything together.

And still, the first one that always replied the call for help by either sending a group, or creating an escape plan route to ensure your and the rest's safety with the help of Lyla.

Unlike him. The man in the flesh and bone, that would easily supplant him physically, and had been watching you ever since you awoke. You didn't have to turn to him to know his presence had invaded your already reduced and secluded space.

Brown coals raked over the slope of your neck, the dip between your shoulder and junction, gaze remained over your rising form in every disguised breath you took, hoping he'd go away. Long and tan fingers tangled softly in the silks of your hair and the touch alone made your skin crawl, and not precisely in a good and pleasant way, no.

Whenever he was around your spider senses tingled, sometimes you'd end up with a headache, unable to shut it off. You didn't have to look deep enough to know he was as messed up and unpredictable as the task he had bestowed upon you.

"Eres tan perfecta..." his impish titter made your heart wrench and anxiety to bubble in the deepest of your gut.

In other circumstances you'd be a flustered mess, flattered even to have such kind of man groveling over you. But this one in specific had you coiling away from his touch, hoping to vanish into thin air or turn invisible like Miles.

God, you really wanted to have Mile's invisibility powers right now, so at least you could have a chance to escape. But dreaming had gone out the window ever since he dumped you here.

He never lingered too much, even when he did routine checkups on you. Blood and other fluid samples were taken, he made sure you ate the bland and soggy looking food 'til nothing but crumbs were left, and then he'd leave to do whatever he did in the lab and wouldn't return until your next feeding time.

The only thing he had in common with your Miguel was the workaholic attitude. He'd spend hours if not days tinkering with canisters and things you low key feared to know their components. You've noticed the little parts of limbs floating in some recipients, none of them human.

What kind of things this Alchemax did? Cause the little you had seen so far wasn't nice nor pretty.

Alchemax took seriously their research, and with this man on charge, you didn't want to even think about what kind of ungodly horrors they harbored. There was a little slapping in the air as he removed his gloves, and it was your chance to crawl away.

Rough pads thrummed over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine, breath hitched as he beckoned your forearm, the only part of you that budged, towards him in a demanding pull.

"Haven't had the time to properly examine these." he mumbled, more to himself than to you, as his thumbs squeezed soft circles, soothing the previous pressure's discomfort.

You gulped as he narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at the tiny circular slits indented in your wrist, a pale pinkish hue rimmed the tiny hole. The way he admired and looked with child-like wonder at your web shooters was overwhelming.

Cheeks grew warmer as the tip of his nose ran up your forearm to finally stop on the shooters. A soft salty musk emanated from them.

"Organic webbing... Fascinating." He crooned.

He closed his eyes to relish in the smell of your skin. A shaky breath came off your lips as his moist tongue rubbed a kitten lick on it, a bolt of electricity flooded your senses and earned him a whimper. Eyes immediately shifted on you, pupils widening.

Much to your dismay both had accidentally unveiled a borderline gruesome breakthrough. The twinkle in his eyes made your brows twitch in worry. Your neck gulped and his eyes caught the fraction of movement to then smirk.

Pearly whites shone with twisted pride upon the discovery.

"W-Wait-"

The tip of his tongue pressed harder on the slit and you couldn't help but moan. A lovely and surprising melody to his keen ears at your reactions.

Web shooters were a sensitive and therefore an erogenous area.

You tried yanking your arm away, but your knees trembled when he delivered a wriggle of the tip of his tongue, trying to worm into your veins, prodding and tasting unabashedly at your dint.

With every coil of his moist muscle your brain sparked alive, neurotransmitters soaring in wicked delight. Your teeth clamped on your lower lip, stifling another upcoming moan.

The wet sounds and pops of his mouth made your insides clench involuntarily. Legs smothered together, as he now sucked. His lips pursed in that familiar shape it reminded you the way he ate your engorged and sensitive nub.

Head split in two, fighting over what side of reasoning you'd agree with. One side was ashamed such ministrations from your wretched captor turned your unwilling body like puty within seconds in his dexterous hands, and with this newfound information, his power over you just increased tenfold.

Or aghast for allowing such thing, for allowing him to cage you against the bed and his formidable frame while he devoured and toyed with your wrists, and for him to make you feel revered like no man ever had, even if it was for the wrongest of reasons. Brown eyes stared at your countenance with such curiosity and enthrall, as if you were everything he needed. Like his prayers had been answered and delivered in silver platter with you on it, right in his hands.

It didn't help your shaky resolution he squeezed and draped his other thumb in your other slit. Rubbing in lazy circles, pressing the right amount to have your clit throbbing and your mouth panting. The vibrations of his low groan on your skin sent your brain in tiny shortcuts, your synapses were howling.

A shiny streak of his saliva connected with the left wrist. The irisdiscent shine of your webs connected to his bottom lip.

"Tad salty" His tongue licked the web away, His thumb moved in a back and fro motion, alternating between circles and soft licks from his thumb pad.

"Hnng-" Your toes curled in, as your hips stuttered but he grounded his even more on yours, preventing you from shifting too much.

"Stop squirming" He huffed, annoyed, trying to focus his sight on the tiny crevice.

"F-Fucking stop then" you panted in angry breaths

Michael smirked, genuinely amused at your unexpected reaction.

"Why would I? This is the most exciting part of the research."

Shit.

He took your other wrist and kissed the dent, your eyes went shut as he pressed both wrist above your head. Thumbs kneading with a bit more of pressure right above your tiny holes. And God, it was embarrassing hearing yourself mewl like a needy bitch.

How couldn't you notice such thing about yourself after so many years of being a Spiderwoman?

Fuck

And why the fuck were you about to cum while having your wrists stimulated? But more importantly, was he really having a boner by toying with you?

"God, you're a pervert..."

You couldn't help but mumble and he pressed tighter on purpose, sending a muffled whimper through your throat, silencing your yapping.

"I rather the term, Man of science, pequeña. Now stay fucking still."

But you couldn't, not when he kneaded so closely to a spot that send your mouth gaping like a fish out of water, begging to be thrown back in the liquid oxygen. He pressed two inches away from the bitty hole, and that was it.

Jaw clenched and your spine arched. His brow quirked with clinical curiosity at your thrashing despair. Breaths paused and shallow, still deciding whether to moan or sob.

"Nmh-Fuck, fuck, oh my god-" Your eyes rolled back, and your insides clamped. Brain vaporising any coherent thought, mouth too busy catching air and sputtering dumb babble at the consuming climax. Contracting and pulsing at nothing as the little dent squirted a silky and sticky rope towards the wall with a soft Thwipsh. He blinked nearly stupidly at what he had just achieved, cracking his apathetic stare for good.

"Dios mío..." He pressed again and again and you sobbed as the web spurted hapzardly, diverting in every direction and etching to whatever surface it touched or landed. He stared with wide eyes between you and the webs. Limp limb suspended in the air.

Toes curled and clenched at the bedsheets, attempting to anchor yourself at the overwhelming sensations that clouded your judgement. Head spun and buzzed with the thrill not even you achieved when handling those annoying reminders of your solitude in your own hands.

For once your spider senses tingled deliciously. His cock twitched almost painfully at what he just witnessed, he groaned and cupped your face to deliver a deep and breathtaking kiss.

"I knew someday, all my work would be rewarded. All those sleepless nights, those sacrifices, would bring someone like you to me."

He panted, examining you with wicked excitement, shaking you softly in his aroused wake.

"You and I, will create something so beautiful even God will be jealous!."

If it wasn't for the ominous meaning behind those words, you'd be amazed and moved at his overboard thrill. He rested his head on your lower belly, a dark grin plastered over his face, fingers padded your skin, warmth spreading through his hand.

Where are you, Miguel?

"I can't wait to see you swollen, carrying the future of this earth, pequeña."

I'm scared

But as quickly as he laid down, he bolted out of your cell, too enraptured in his musings to actually care for your rattled state.

Now that his motives were clear, your need to escape was greater. But maybe if you played your cards well, you'd have a chance.

I need you.

----

The table landed on the wall, shattering in smaller shards that splintered all over the place. Michael's back rose and tensed so tight, his lab robe wrinkled, trapping the fabric in between his muscles.

The corner of his lip twitched, almost like a tick, teeth menaced with baring, fury boiling underneath his skin. If he could, the steam would blow off his ears, but instead he prowled over your unsuspecting and sleeping form in the very back of the lab. Mind assaulting his reasoning with so many questions, but one in particular made his hands to clench into tight fist.

Why weren't you pregnant?

He had came inside in your most dangerous and fertile days, and still, you weren't pregnant.

As much as he was a patient man, he was throughly disappointed at his own failure. Was his seed defective? No.

He had run studies on himself and his results were everything a desperate man in need of children could ask for.

Fertile, fruitful, healthy.

And still, the screen shone brighter on the 'Negative' results.

Hot and furious breath fanned over the glass wall where he saw you sleeping. He'd have to run even more tests on you, start all over and wait for another two weeks.

But what if your body refused him again? Your womb's rejection was an open slap on his face, when he had been nothing but kind to you. He had been taking care of you with the best things, and this is how you repaid him.

It frustrated him beyond reason. But he was a patient man. Weeks were nothing compared to all the time he had already waited. With a final huff, he returned to his lab to correct your stupid hormonal imbalance that was costing him his valuable time and resources.

However, a Public Eye officer barged in, breath in his throat. His personal hounds, and whenever they came in, it only meant one thing. They had found something, and by the scratches and claw like marks on the officer's bleeding shoulder, meant it was something good.

You had to wait for a moment longer.

-----

"Lyla"

Miguel's gruff whisper came behind the corner of the structure he was in. Lyla appeared right on his shoulder.

"Any readings?"

"Some-" She froze for a second, "Ssft-"

Her yellow shade glitched to then appear right before him, she was speaking, but Miguel could barely understand her.

Fuck.

The place's interference was messing up with her programming. His gizmo popped with a message, your location. Beeping in a bright yellow dot within the ever tall and imposing Alchemax building in the middle of the city, like a watchtower.

Your last signal. Earth S-2015.

If you were here, he was sure you'd quip up something about a movie reference, something about a Mordor, whatever the thing meant, to lighten up the mood. He'd never admit it, but it always made him a bit curious as to what you watched or did to entertain yourself. The things you spoke were beyond absurd and still, he listened, inwardly pondering as to what kind of substances your universe used to get that sort of inspiration, but now there was nothing but silence at his side. And he grew tired of it.

No matter how much he had tried to recover or track you, the signal vanished into thin air. And he wasn't happy. At first he thought the gizmo's self restart feature would bring the signal back, but days kept passing, and nothing happened, he even went to the extent of rewiring the trinket's code to see if there was anything between lines, but there was nothing after the current location he was in.

Miguel swung through the buildings, avoiding the constant and alert drones soaring through the sky. Alchemax safety propaganda was plastered all over the place, but this earth's inhabitants looked everything but happy. Unlike his wonderful and manageable utopia he had helped to improve.

Fear was forever etched in their faces, constantly moving, never lingering too much around those mean looking officers. The Public Eye.

Their image all over the city, with low key subduing messages as 'Keep The order', 'Report any anomaly in the nearest station.' It set perfectly with the gloomy, authoritarian and heavy atmosphere of this universe. Chaos brewing in the darkness, awaiting to be unleashed.

His gut felt queasy. He might not have spider senses, but intuition never failed him. And right now it was telling him to find you and get the fuck out as soon as possible. Precisely in that order. He didn't want to pull out a Miles, even if he wanted to on this wretched world. Frustrating as it was, Earth S-2015 was a necessary evil, like his ruler and his major minion.

Not that you were incapable of fending for yourself, one of the main reasons he didn't act right away, but knowing who was in this place, and the possibilities, made his chest constrict with a new wave of underlying anxiety and dread as there was no Spider in this earth to protect it.

His watch buzzed a bit too late with a new message from Lyla.

RUN!!!!

A hoard of drones shoot his way, creating a sequential line of explosions, he dodged, tore, and crashed the drones against eachother, as if they were bugs pestering him.

"Look! Another one!"

Some officers didn't wait to appear and shoot their best shots at him. They fired and Miguel fought back, talons in hands, ripping and tearing flesh.

They had taken you, and a cold sweat ran down his spine.

Mierda...

He took one officer by his neck, masked face came into view as his teeth bared.

"The other one, where is she?!" he seethed but the man was stupid enough to oppose. He thrashed, which only added gasoline to Miguel's already blazing fury. Talons dug in the man's tender flesh, but even so, the officer had managed to impale a needle on his arm. It's liquid immediately melting into Miguel's muscles.

It stung.

With a hiss, Miguel let the man go, too focused on the sudden burning sensation spreading through his arm and body like a wildfire. Breathings took a couple of seconds to turn erratic, lights flickered and dances before his eyes.

Concéntrate, mierda! (Fucking focus)

The remaining officers jumped on him, using their subduing tools on him, an electrical shock here and there, a couple of stabs that had him kneeling, punches that definitely got all air out of his scorching lungs. It hurted to breath, to move, to see. His photophobia was rampant as lights were suddenly on him.

Miguel tried to cover his eyes but punches kept coming, he lunged and swung back to nothing but air, as his faculties were in a painful sensorial overload. The last thing he could manage in between blurry and prancing lights was the officer's wicked smile, stretching. Darkness claimed him.

----

"Me estás hartando, quédate quieta de una vez!" (I'm getting tired of this, stay still!)

The lack of exercising had made you slow, he didn't give you enough time to fight back when dragging you by the ankles while you were in the best of your nap. The alerts in your body kicked a bit too late, and like he had done before, his hips grounded yours, suffocating their squirming as his hand squeezed the wrists, needle menacing on his other hand, a pinkish liquid shook within.

"Fuck you!"

With a low growl he smashed your hands against the mattress, earning him a painful yelp, and it was his chance to sink the needle on your neck, a sting that immediately stifled your body, a brief itch spreaded through before turning into a cool shot of drug.

"Don't worry... We'll get to it later. But I need your body cooperating first."

You tried batting his hands away, but he held your face, and you gulped. He was staring.

Michael Stone was staring at you.

Thrill, joy, and something eldritch within his beautiful eyes. It scared as it intrigued you.

"What did you just put in me!?"

His nose nuzzled on the crook of your neck and crooned, "Nothing you should worry about, pequeña. Just a little enhance that will take my investigation to the next level."

His nose revelled up to your neck, body shuddering with the soft kisses left imprinted on your skin. It confused you.

One moment he treated you like the best thing he had ever had, and the next he manhandled you like a rag doll, pumping whatever substances he thought right into your bloodstream.

"Ger'off me!" A backlash and he chuckled.

"You're amusing. Might keep you as a pet once my child is born." He frowned suddenly, like if an idea had came into mind, pondering.

"Or not, I could grow it on my own... But, no no. It wouldn't be the same, wouldn't it?." His peering landed on your abdomen, ready to see it plump. "Call. me traditionalist in that way, but there is nothing more beautiful than seeing life growing within a perfect specimen." His eyes twinkled.

"You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

"You loved having this sick fuck inside, pequeña. Your mouth might be spilling nonsense, but your cunt" He cupped it suddenly, shutting you up right away, "neither data lies."

A thick lump was swallowed down your throat.

"Rest well, I've got a surprise for you."

The smirk on his lips was everything but a good omen. And the heat increasing on your body didn't help. Hormones were slowly coming to a riot, spider tingle ringing harder for a moment.

Great.

Fingers rubbed on where he sunk the needle, wishing that for once he wouldn't use the thick ones. A tiny red smudge came into the pad of your fingertip.

Asshole.

----

Disgust, curiosity and repulsion.

Those were the main reads on Miguel's bruised face when Michael was before him, having a taste of his lips, but quickly backed up upon feeling the prong of his fangs grazing at his tongue. Miguel spat away his taste.

"Vete a la mierda, cabrón!" (Fuck you, asshole)

"Oh" His smirk went wider, almost wicked. He wasted no time in securing his grip on Miguel's chin to probe and poke at his mouth, revelling at every single thing within his structure.

"This is... perfect! With you and my vessel, we'll create-"

Michael jumped backwards as Miguel tried to lunge for him, but to no avail, chains clinked on his feet and wrists, restraining him.

"Now, now. What happened to that... friendly neighborhood thing your species used to preach? Is it a ruse?"

Miguel's fury burned brighter than the sun, he was ablaze, the Ethyl Chloride still railed within his bloodstream. He'd have to wait a bit more, just a bit for it's effects to leave his system and he'd free himself.

Never in his life had the urge of hurting someone came so strong on him, but he needed to be as collected as possible if he wanted to find you.

Even if his evil twin's hand roamed over his chest, measuring and probing his physiology. What's with everyone trying to get a piece of him?

His sight landed on something that undeniably belonged to you, a piece of your suit, under a microscope. Michael followed Miguel's line of sight and smiled, naturally, proud even.

"She's been a good specimen. The best one I've got so far."

A cold shudder ran down Miguel's back, eyes immediately on him, venom dripping in his words as they came out in a growl

"What have you done?"

Michael shrugged nonchalant, pride swelling up his chest. "Nothing but my work, Mr. O'Hara. And now that I've got you, you'll help me too."

"Te juro que si has hecho algo para lastimarla-" (I swear if you've done something to hurt her)

"Oh no, no. Im not that kind of monster." Michael tinkered with some tubes as he pulled a couple strands off Miguel's head. The Boss shook his head away from his tweezers.

"But she can get annoying sometimes. Nothing that pleasure helps to shut her up"

Miguel's eyes went wide, horror and anger in tandem within his crimson gaze.

His talons poked out, itching to tear the man before him, until he was nothing but bloody chum, fuck the canon, fuck this dimension. He'd do everyone a favor, unlike the first time he broke the rules.

"But dread not. Tonight is very special" Michael smiled at Miguel, but it didn't reached his eyes. The same pink liquid he injected on you was now flowing in Miguel's veins, thanks to thw needles in his shackles.

"Mating season is around the corner , isn't it?"

Miguel scowled, wary as Michael made his arms and legs restricted to the metallic wall of his confinement, hitting his head in the process. A wave of pain invaded Miguel's skull.

"I won't hurt her, no. But I won't allow you to take her away from me."

Michael pressed a button, sending shockwaves through Miguel's body, suit glitching out, until it disappeared, leaving a bare, righteous doppelganger of himself at his feet, panting, gritting his teeth and growling in pain.

Michael leered at Miguel unabashedly, smoke oozed from his shimmery tan skin, and the madman nodded, pleased.

"You spider-folk are unique and wonderful creatures indeed."

It was the last thing Miguel heard before another electrical and unexpected shock subdued him to darkness.

----

Miguel

His mind was a puddle. Nothing coherent could properly take shape in his brain. His body was heavy, doused in a borderline painful heat, the same sort of feeling he'd get once his body entered this spider-like urge to mate.

Miguel!

The voice calling him was familiar, but it's tinge sent a delicious pulsation right to the tip of his already twitching cock.

Wake up!

Leaden-lids parted enough to take in his surroundings again, consciousness returning to his empty body. But as it did, the strong tidal waves of his arousal drowned him in.

It didn't help he kept hearing these delicious mewls and pants, begging for him to do something simple as to wake up. The constant slaps of flesh and the breathless moans made a trail of precum escape his flushed and sensitive tip. Thick veins decored his pulsating girth, aching painfully to sink in something. To be wrapped in nothing but snug zeal.

"F-Fuck... Wake up, please!"

Another garbled moan that ended in an acute whimper. And that made him growl. His toes curled in, bleary sight finally taking focus on what was going on.

He could only blink at the scene. Stupid and high in need. Dying to be free and unleash himself.

"Ohmygod-" you hiccuped, watching him, flushed cheeks, mouth gaping and panting, exhaling deep and sweet mewls his body yearned to induce

"Miguel!"

You called, waking him up despite your insides getting a good rearrangement by Michael. The latter was too keen in watching his reaction as he smacked himself against you, his cheeks reddened in want.

You were spreaded like a book ontop of the sitting madman, back colliding with his bare chest, hands cuffed within two metallic hoops, hooked behind Michael's head; cunt swallowing him inside, choking with his continuous thrustings, slapping the back of your ass over and over as his hands kept your thighs apart and close to your chest, providing Miguel with a 4K image of your bullied and glistening pussy.

The way Michael pushed in so swiftly made Miguel's cock to erupt with another pre cum bead. Your breast swayed and bounced at the rough pace settled underneath. A rhythmic slap, like a perfect metronome for an obscene and wet melody.

The little rational part of Miguel told him, demanded him to look away. To spare you some shame, but his body had been rewired in such way he was unable to tear his oggling away, cause he could feel the need to break the chains and do a better job than Michael. He'd destroy you. He needed to.

Michael's hands made you hold the back of your own thighs, so he could plow deeper. And your spine arched as your toes curled, legs shook and a sweet acute cry echoed through the lab, announcing your first orgasm.

Miguel's sore cock twitched. Begging him to jump into action. His mouth watered as your pussy swallowed Michael's cock so deep and tight that a frothy, creamy ring nested at the base of his tightened balls, contracting as the madman came inside your snug hole.

Your arousal awakened a primal need in him, to the point that his talons dug in the fat of his palm, cutting skin and bleeding, like his bottom lip. Plump mouth heaved, his throat rumbled with gutural growls the more he stared, hypnotized at your post-bliss face.

Miguel whimpered, like a kicked dog, a deep flush invading his heaving countenance.

"Seems the serum is also making effect"

Michael slicked his hair back and gave an excited sigh, "I think it's time to see his performance, right?"

Michael pushed you away from his body, Bambi-like legs failed their attempt to hold your whole frame. You fell on the ground with a wheeze. Miguel immediately lunged, but his restrains held him back, prevented him from achieving his main goal.

Crimson eyes turned darker, nearly matching Michael's. The latter pressed a button and the collar on Miguel fell with a clank on the floor.

"M-Miguel" it was difficult to find your voice when it was scrapped raw and dry, but still, you had to try.

"We... we gotta leave. Do you hear me?"

Of course he did, but his mating cycle was on peak, thanks to Michael. He had messed up the natural process by accelerating his heat prematurely.

Why would he leave when he was about to wreck you?

His feet were unlocked. You gave Michael a pleading look while trying to crawl away. When the last lock clicked free, your breath hitched.

It felt like a slow motion as you looked over your shoulders, marked with hickeys Michael left. Pupils wide blown as Miguel lurched forward, stalking and hovering over you. Cock smearing his pre cum in whatever skin it landed, marking you with his scent as he manhandled your hips up, aligning them with his girth.

His hand was big enough to keep your whole head on the floor. Michael cackled as Miguel sunk in deep in a powerful roll of his hips, earning a stuttering grunt through clenched teeth from you.

The fat of your ass trembled, your clasped hands curled underneath your torso, in dire need of holding onto something, cause Miguel merciless plows were fucking any coherent thought.

Your whole body shook underneath him, cunt ever tight, your juices and Michael's cum made him easier to delve in a pace you knew would scrap your knees, cause he wasn't stopping nor waning.

Michael circled you both, hand on his cock, stroking himself at the sheer display of primal desire. The whole show made him hard, specially when seeing your engorged clit peeking underneath Miguel's jackhammering frame, flushed from the unceasing beating the hero's balls provided it.

"Just like that" Michael husked, and whimpered as you did nothing but sputter nonsensical and lewd blabbering.

Miguel's fingertips sunk tighter as they grope your hips firmly to keep you from lurching forward, despite him plunging into you with abandonment, as if with every thrust he'd say take it.

Take it for disobeying.

Your toes curled in and your jaw slacked open, unable to keep it together.

Take it for not following instructions.

"M... Mig-"

Bendito... He was just starting and you were already clamping onto him in a grip so tight it only matched the way he was holding your beautiful and generous hips.

"You're almost there, Mr. O'Hara! Keep it going!"

One specific thrust had your eyes watering and rolling back. A pathetic and incomplete scream made Michael to kneel behind you both. His eyes were too dazed in how Miguel fucked you. Dancing up and down, like the strokes of his hands on his cock.

Miguel secured your head in a tight headlock that cut your air supply enough to clench on him, again. Strong biceps trapped your airy head, clouded with a biting desire that came stronger every time you breathed.

Michael groaned when Miguel pulled a last thrust, sheathing to the hilt, forcing a powerful and milky kiss on your cervix. The madman's mouth wasted no time to sink in between Miguel's firm glutes, tasting him, squeezing and pushing him towards his face, tongue fucking the tight hole, earning a low but stuttering growl from a surprised Miguel. Glasses fogging at the rising temperature.

"Fucking delicious." He mumbled with a smack of his lips to focus his attention in your flushed and sensitive cunt. When Miguel pulled out, Michael was already pushing him away, to then prowl at your throbbing cunt, gathering the leaking cum on his tongue, revelling in the taste as he pushed it back inside with a soft dribble.

"W-Wait" You hissed, his moist muscle had been wonderful once, but right now it felt rough. Flesh too sensitive to the touch.

Miguel staggered, body overridden with a relentless urge to be inside you again, but his body screamed for a rest, the venom still lingered on his muscles. Michael on the other hand, cradled and sunk you once more ontop of him.

"The more you take, the more chances you'll get pregnant are." He explained underneath you. Tears rolled down your flustered cheeks, overstimulated and pearled, glowy skin by the thin layer of sweat etched in every slope and dint in your body.

Michael licked them with a groan while his hips smacked yours in a slow but deep, deep rut, pulling the last coherent thoughts through muffled groans and hiccuping mewls, while you shook your head vehemently.

"You're so perfect, pequeña"

"T-Too much" you croaked

Michael sunk you in a swift move, as his slapping hips met yours upwards, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"No, no. you can. You're strong, bonita. You can take me." His crooning was eerie, yet so alluring it blurred the line between monster and devotee.

Pleasure clung to your brain with such force it was dizzying. Every pore of your body oozed with the pheromones the serum produced, creating a tantalizing smell that lured Michael and Miguel's attention.

The grumpy hero could only watch you squirm as another cock that wasn't his, wrecked your insides in a tortuous pace.

"Fuck" He grunted, feeling the consuming and mind numbing drug licking at every inch of his cinnamon skin, imploring to feel you again.

Even though the Ethyl Chloride's effect had been long gone, the serum reacted to your pheromones. Meaning he'd need to provoke one more peak to have the effects completely worn out.

He'd feel sorry and awful all he wanted later, his priority was to get you out of this madman's claws. But...

It was impossible not to think in how good you felt, how delicious your whole body contorted while witnessing the way Michael subdued you to ride him as he captured one of your nipples in his urgent mouth. Lovely and plump bumps of flesh jiggled at the tempo, outer folds that without a doubt would be so sensitive to the touch, parted and guzzled Michael's veiny cock.

Miguel crawled to you both.

How well you had taken them each., Adjusting perfectly at their sizes, like a perfect flesh sleeve.

He hovered over the both and smoothed away the strands of hair that stuck on your flushed and gorgeously fucked out face.

The heat was consuming, and Michael's pace wasn't enough. The madman noted you were reaching the peak of the serum functionality as you urged your wobbly hips clumsily on his.

Despite you not being able to properly verbalise your pleasure, you still sought it. Michael's wicked fantasies came true when Miguel pushed you tighter against him, as if wanting to flush your body and Michael's as one being, just to have a proper glimpse of the sight that had him guiding his tip towards your already stuffed entrance.

Detente (Stop)

But he couldn't, he couldn't stop himself from entering you, knees flexing as he lowered his pelvis, pushing inch my inch deeper. Earning an ascending pleasurable wail from you.

Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched, baring your teeth as he also sheathed inside, womb so full it bulged.

Michael's laugh echoed through the room. Everything had came as planned.

"Let's make you a wonderful mother, mi pequeña."

Oh my god.

A panting groan escaped as Michael moved in first, igniting the painfully delicious friction inside you. He wasn't only stimulating you, but Miguel as well. The snug crevice too tight for them to coexist in peace, yet there they were, fighting over who pulled the last peak and thread of rationality out of you.

Their cocks pumping and prodding had your spine arching. Miguel grabbed a fistful of your front strands and pulled backwards, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, letting your chest exposed to Michael. He wasted no time into pushing both of your breasts together, tongue alternating between the left and right.

Sucking, lapping, wriggling his hot muscle on your taut peaks, making a mess out of them by creating more hickeys in every inch of salty tasting visible skin.

"Michael!" You whimpered and it was enough for Miguel to plow harder. The sinful makeout session of their cocks inside your walls made you pant, beg and laugh like a total loon.

A streak of saliva escaped the corner of your gaping mouth. Head lolled back and fro, fried brain with the lust both men induced you, floating on cloud nine. You didn't want to come down to earth, much less when Miguel and Michael's groans and moans over you, urged you to be the best cum dumpster ever.

Miguel pulled your handcuffed hands underneath your chin, beckoning your lips to his. His mouth suffocated any future moan as you bounced on both.

Your one and only boss didn't need you wailing his name to know you ached for him. But Michael was set into having a proper taste out of you both.

He pulled you closer, pushing deeper inside you. Michael's lips erased all trace of Miguel's on yours, to then kiss Miguel. To his surprise, Miguel didn't oppose, too gone in the sensations this mass of tangled limbs offered.

Michael hands roamed your body and Miguel's, feeling his own climax approach.

Hearing Miguel's animalistic growls on your ear, made your clit throb. He pounded with every fiber of his body, urging you to reach the stars and play with them.

Your cunt soaked them, too wrecked and ruined to care. Like your mind. It didn't matter who fucked better, all your body asked was fresh cum, deep in your womb.

The serum coaxed you to move faster, almost matching the rhythm of their whomps. The sound of your greedy and drooling hole being battered was music to their ears.

Michael whimpered and his spine arched, finally reaching his peak, spurting his hot sticky scent inside. Miguel hissed and held Michael close, watching him.

Limbs nearly cramped as they curled in, hands fisted tightly on each side of his trembling body, eyes rolled back, mouth panting, head too heavy to think straight. And that's when Miguel sunk his fangs on his neck, injecting his paralyzing venom on his bloodstream.

A pornographic and slurred moan erupted from Michael, his wicked smirk widened as his body slowly but surely, lost all control of his nerves, unable to command them to move.

Miguel had to resist the urge to come inside. He knew he had a couple of minutes before Michael regained mobility, and as heavenly as you felt, he pulled out of you, drowning his orgasm with regained self control, earning a small hissing as he pulled you out too, gently, off Michael.

Legs and body refused to cooperate. With clumsy steps he stood, taunting the surfaces for support. He slanted against the table, gasping for air.

Miguel shook his head and threw a quick look to Michael, still on the floor, but now groaning in discomfort. Even his tongue had numbed out.

Miguel didn't waste time and sauntered over the next table where pieces of his gizmo laid neatly arranged in a metallic tray. He swept them all in a container, along the tubes filled with his samples.

Like Hobie, he took other parts of machinery in a quickened pace to finally grab a couple of lab robes. He wore one and covered your overworked body, to then throw you above his shoulder.

"Nos vamos." (We're leaving)

Michael groaned, loudly. Anger was felt in every gurgle his throat did. Despair widened in the only thing that still remained movable in his numb face. They darted between you and Miguel, begging him to leave you there.

He groaned again, losing sight once Miguel swung with you from a window.

"Hold on tight if you can" Miguel's voice cooed as you two escaped.

-----

Michael had to douse some pain killer spray on the two slits done in his neck.

How could he not forsee this? How could he miss something so obvious that ended up messing his one decade old plan?

He let his emotion get the best out of him, fouling up his usual calculating judgment, replacing it with excitement.

A Public Eye squad remained before him, awaiting for his orders.

"Find them. I need the woman alive, understood?"

"What about the... other one? The monster?" The same officer Miguel had sliced through and marked, spoke.

The lights in the screen gave Michael a sinister red hue on his face, light reflecting on his glasses.

"He's not a monster, Johnson." Dr. Stone smirked, copying your information in his database, "There can't be two of us."

Johnson, the captain, nodded. The squad obeyed, and the hunt was on.

Taglist: (I apologize if your blog isn't able to be tagged, tumblr is... tumblr)

@smokeywhalee @maomaimao @beingdeluluisthesolulu @byjessicalotufo @darkfairy102190 @angel-of-the-moons @bunnibitez @decaffeinatedplaidwinnersoul

@thealleydog @sariespi @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @barryatsumu @missylo @fistsuptitsup @lazy-idate @crimsonriot06-7 @uraritychain @little-lovelace @llama--drama @deathlypickles @cupidojenphrodite @@nostalgicdaira @homewreckingwreck @millliko @tatatida @melday0105 @scaryplanetdestroyer @minispidey @miranexx @migueloharacumslut @keepghostly @ion-news @misswonderfrojustice @kishimiest @prctty-birdie @migueloharacumslut @the-true-tato-god @1biggestsimpofalltime @catfwngz @drefear

#t writes✨#Michael Stone #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman

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wombywoo · 6 months

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Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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kaznejis · 10 months

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Public affair- Bucky Barnes x Reader

The Avengers PR department designs the perfect fake relationship for you- the key to instant fame and high ratings. Except, you’re already in a relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 8.2k / Read it on AO3! / Part 2!

Enjoy!

“You’re joking- tell me she’s joking right?” you laughed, turning in the padded desk chair you had been ushered into upon entering the meeting room to stare at Nick Fury- the man only stared back at you, nonchalant as ever.

“No, Miss L/N, we aren’t joking,” he rose, striding towards the refreshments table to pour himself a fresh coffee, “We find that this initiative will be … beneficial towards our engagement and how the public perceive the Avengers.”

The young, public representations co-ordinator that had informed you of the plan nodded then, shuffling a stack of folders and clicking her heels under the table; a mixture of excitement and optimism, “Miss, this project will see a significant rise in traction towards the Avengers, I mean, come on- you’re young and hot; everyone either wants to be you, be with you or see you in a beautiful, public relationship. Seeing as though the first two are impossible; this is the only option.”

“Okay,” you nodded, twirling a pen before aiming it at the woman, “Did you, may perhaps, forget the part where I’m in a relationship already?”

The woman sighed then, her lips thinning; the plump redness of her lipstick almost disappearing as stress lines creased her face. Trailing a finger down the edge of her folders, she spoke slowly- as if coaxing a rabid dog, “You see- Mr Barnes isn’t exactly, you know, the kind of person for a project like this–”

“Seriously? Isn’t a public display of affection what this is all about?”

“No, Y/N- this is about public ratings. The public will not bide well with you having any form of a relationship with someone like … Mr Barnes; it would be career suicide for me and everyone in the PR department.”

You nodded, humming and scrunching your eyebrows together as if about to say something inquisitive until your face dropped entirely, “Yeah, okay. I’m leaving.”

Nick stopped you before you could leave your seat, raising a hand and rendering you seated with the simple gesture, “Just hear her out, Miss L/N.”

“Fury- you’re telling me you approve of this? You recruited us to be superheroes; not influencers.”

Nick turned then, placing his mug of coffee down and retreating back towards the table before sitting directly across from you; a pensive look on his face, “I’m sorry Y/N, but our ratings have dropped significantly recently. If people don’t support us, they won’t want us to save them. Just hear Sophia out.”

Scoffing, you turned in your seat to glare at ‘Sophia’ who only continued to click her heels beneath the table, perhaps it had been nerves after all. “The plan is to have you appear in a few high profile locations with our high profile representative,” she reached for a remote and activated the projector before you, pictures of your ‘selection’ appeared, “So- don’t worry we have preliminarily selected your choice for you-”

“I don’t even get a choice?” you spat, leaning towards the woman in your chair; nothing but shock prevalent in your features, “So you’re shipping me off to just about anyone you can find?”

“He is not just anyone!” Sophia snapped, her curled blonde hair bobbing back and forth as she seemed genuinely offended, “We have specially selected the perfect man for you; he’s military and is the first to gain three medals of honour. He’s a similar age and he is extremely respected within the public right now as he recently donated a lot of money to a selection of charities. It’s perfect!” She sat back in her chair as if overlooking an art piece, hands clasped together.

Fury sighed, thumbing at his brow, “I’m sorry Y/N- but you’re arguably our most favoured female avenger- the public love you.” Raising his hands, he turned towards the projector where a recent video of you coaxing a herd of school children away from a fire began to play- your grip on their shoulders protective as you led each one away to safety. “You’re a positive influence towards our younger audiences and we all know that teen audiences love a good romance.”

“You know, Fury,” you spoke slowly, lifting your feet to rest them on top of the table- much to Sophia’s chagrin, “Prostitution is illegal in the United States Of America.”

“Y/N-”

“Oh my Goodness!”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Nick composed himself, straightening his blazer and huffing at you, “It’s just a few dinners, picnics- whatever you kids like to do. You don’t even have to meet with him behind closed doors. It is strictly professional.”

Shaking your head, you huffed- lowering your feet from the table and sitting back in your chair, “And what about Bucky? Hm? What will he think of this?”

Fury opened his mouth to speak, though before he could, Sophia butted in; her voice urgent but smug, “Actually, Mr Barnes did agree to it. He was completely happy for you to do so.”

“You’re lying.” You snapped, your voice stone-cold; disgusted at the woman before you who was willing to pamper with your relationship. You and Bucky had endured too much for the lower departments of Stark Tower to have any form of a say in your relationship- too much hardship, trauma and healing as you had fought both figurative and literal battles together. Despair swirled in your gut as you realised that others didn’t see Bucky the same way you did- seeing him only for the past that he had no say in and the contractual record that created a constant, trawling paper trail behind him. Every step he took was slowed by the consequential weight of his past. They didn’t see the same Bucky that made you breakfast in the morning or cuddled into your back at night. The same Bucky that woke up sweating, crying, screaming more nights than not, the same one that had fervently torn the hair from his head as the slightest change in position reminded him of the grease and decay that had once tainted his sight. They would never understand the complexity of Bucky Barnes and the beautiful flaws that etched beneath the tinge of his skin.

Sophia’s mouth twisted in visibly faked sympathy, her lipstick now dyeing the edges of her lips red with an abrasive smudge. “Luckily, I predicted you would act like this, so I ensured to get his signature as solid proof for you. I don’t see any reason as to why you couldn’t be involved in this so you just need to scroll down and sign the next box.” She turned the screen before you and low and behold- Bucky’s signature lay before you in his individual bold scrawl. Tony had recently introduced a new system in order to avoid fraud and increase confidentiality- everything in Stark tower is accessed through fingerprints. Nothing unwanted can get in and nothing important could get out without sufficient clearance. Bucky was the only person that could have input the specific signature- the system making it impossible to replicate. Unease tinged in your throat then, if Bucky had truly agreed to this, then surely it would be for the best? If anyone were to understand the feeling of rage and disapproval within the public eye, it was Bucky.

“Did he … say anything when he agreed?”

She smiled, the creases not quite reaching her eyes as they squinted, “He said that it was a great idea and he showed his full support for you. He said, and I quote, that he will willingly watch from the sidelines. What a great boyfriend, huh?”

You nodded, your attempts to hide the upset twist of your lips a failure as you scanned your fingerprint against the screen- Sophia’s face practically alive with glee as she confirmed its existence. As you shook hands with her, confirming a later meeting date- you failed to notice the lack of input from Nick.

For hours you stewed over Bucky’s easy acceptance of the project- how he had essentially signed you away to be with another man in public whilst he watched in private. You had only recently discussed the potentiality of going public with your relationship- the irony of the conversation involving the detail of it being as simple as a few high profile sightings, a bit of PDA here and there.

Maybe he hadn’t been as comfortable as he had seemed, you pondered as you leant against the kitchen counter that night- alone in the large, dark room as you had been unable to sleep. Slipping away from Bucky’s arms had been an easy task as he had collapsed into bed after a particularly exhausting day of sparring with Sam and Steve as according to his usual training program. Whilst he had enjoyed time with his friends; entirely unaffected by this plan surrounding your image- the bomb had been dropped straight into your lap.

“Doll, is that you?” A gruff voice sounded from the hallway, the sound of bare feet against tile sounded as Bucky entered the kitchen- dressed in only a white, threadbare shirt and chequered boxers. He frowned upon seeing you, lowering the hand that had been scrubbing his eye as he spotted something in your features, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Just thirsty,” you smiled shallowly, offering him your glass of water as he neared you; curling an arm around your waist and trailing figures of eight upon your back.

“Come back to bed with me? I gotta’ get my Doll time in before I leave for that mission in the morning.”

Nodding, you smiled- cuddling into the warmth of his chest. He had been assigned to the take down of a suspected hydra base out in Mexico, He’d be gone for a week at most. You suspected that was why he had so easily agreed to the contract- its duration was only for as long as popularity surrounding the matter prevailed; which would also be a week at the most.

Before you could respond, he pulled you away from his chest; his head tilted as he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m-”

“Y/N, be honest with me.”

You crumpled, your teeth clinging to your lips as you stared up at his concerned features, “The project that PR made you sign for- do you … do you really approve?”

Bucky shrugged, nodding as he rubbed at your shoulders, “Of course. It would be great to be seen out like that. The people love you Y/N. I mean, it could arguably be the perfect test run for revealing our relationship to the public, you know, see how they react to this and then we can continue from there.”

You felt your stomach fall as he spoke- the remnants of betrayal shook you as the residual sense of understanding that was always directed towards Bucky attempted to outweigh it. Rational thought prevailed as you tried, begged, wished to understand exactly why he had approved of this. Bucky had previously leaned into the role of the stereotypical ‘protective boyfriend’- a constant hand on your back, ever-watchful eyes, stares across crowded rooms. This was entirely out of his character. “Really?” your voice was weak, almost betraying you to the reveal of your inner turmoil.

Bucky smiled, rubbing at your back and leaning forward to place a kiss behind your ear, his lips tracing the sensitive skin there, “Of course.” He stared down at you, curling a metal finger around a loose strand of hair and moving to tuck it behind your ear, “let’s go to bed Doll, it’s late.”

“Buck, can we talk about this again in the morning?”

“Sure.” Bucky shrugged, amusement combined with confusion graced his features as he led you back towards your shared bedroom- the dual shuffle of barefeet the only prevalent sound within the silent hallway. However, your mind spoke a different tune- insecurities and doubts swarming your mind like hawks to their prey. The usual warmth of Bucky felt cold, unfamiliar- everything felt wrong.

But if Bucky trusted the judgement of something, you would always follow it compliantly.

The conversation never managed to take place the following morning, the pillow beside you was vacant by the time you woke up. Only a note detailing the early set off for the mission left in Bucky’s wake. The note, written in his familiar scrawl, detailed his love for you- you could only think about the way in which that same writing had signed you off to be seen on the arm of another man. Your morning consisted of moping, ignoring your scheduled appointments and moping some more. It was only when Friday presented you with a particularly urgent announcement that you were able to leave your reprieve.

“Miss Y/N- Sophia has requested your presence in the meeting room to discuss your upcoming appearances.” You scoffed as you pulled on just about any pieces of somewhat matching clothing you could find- not too bothered about your look as you were staying only in the confines of Stark Tower.

“Perfect!” Sophia squealed as you walked in; a blonde, muscular man stood beside her at the head of the meeting room- wearing casual clothing suspiciously similar to yours, “Y/N, it’s perfect- I didn’t even give you a dress code and you already knew!”

Shaking your head, you entered the room; your features visibly failed to hide your confusion, “Sorry?”

“Sorry, how rude of me!” Sophia turned towards the man beside her, stepping behind him and presenting him to you by the shoulders. The man gave you a sideways smirk; his mouth slightly lopsided due to the extent of his sharp jaw, “Y/N meet John Walker- your new boyfriend!” Clapping as she completed the sentence, Sophia was practically jumping on the spot as she grinned at the two of you. Just to appease her, you shook John’s hand- smiling somewhat-warmly at him.

“Sophia- he’s not my ‘new boyfriend’ we have gone over this- strictly professional.”

“Of course, of course,” she rounded the table and lowered herself into a seat, opening a folder as the two of you sat at each seat beside her, “So, a couple of details for you both. You will begin with a simple coffee date, hence the casual clothing, stir up a little bit of talk and then a few dinners to follow. Now, to the best part, drumroll please!” Both you and John continued to stare at her, “Finally, to end the contract, you will attend the high profile Stark annual charity gala together.”

“Sorry, what?” You froze- the gala was held every year; an opportunity for Tony to flaunt his extravagant wealth under the guise of donating large sums of money to a number of causes. Most importantly, Bucky would be at this gala- the two were not supposed to cross. “Sophia, Bucky’s going to be at that gala, I can’t possibly-”

“Have you forgotten Y/N?” Her voice cold and sardonic, the sound of it grating and rendering you silent, “Mr Barnes approved of all of this.”

Nodding, you frowned, lowering your guard as the harsh reminder struck you, “Of course, but- he couldn’t have possibly agreed to this, I mean, it’s been agreed that we were going to go together- why would he go back on that?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Sophia shrugged her shoulders in mock confusion, appearing to be pondering on your question, “Maybe he just saw the benefits of this. There’s always other charity galas that you can attend later.”

“Sure… of course.”

“Thank you,” you watched as Sophia flipped the page of her folder, “If you feel like continuing this agreement past the gala we can- but, I see it as a great end point. Once all is done, we will simply release a statement adding it all up to rumours or just fate. Outlets will be having the time of their lives over the next week. Me and my team will give a few strategically placed source reviews throughout the period- give the story at least a bit of credibility and all,” Sophia stood suddenly then, her curls shaking at the momentum, “I was thinking we could begin now?”

Defeated, you agreed without fight; finding yourself being escorted to the ground floor with John following simple instructions- get coffee and look like you’re having fun. It wasn’t the most difficult task- you enjoyed a cup of coffee and John was a fairly nice guy.

“Hey, don’t worry about this too much- I got a girl back home myself.”

“Really?” You smiled, pleased that your pain wasn’t entirely one-sided, “So- did she agree easily too or-”

John laughed then, a smirk forming as his teeth glinted in the New York sunlight; he carried an ever-present feeling of arrogance within himself, “God, no. She kicked up a fight- it was only when they offered us the money that we agreed to this.”

Pausing, you plastered a fake smile and laughed heartily as you sensed the presence of a phone camera flashing behind you- you had been spotted. “Sorry, John, what money?” You grabbed his arm as you spoke, framing the image of the average, romantic-fueled coffee date.

“You don’t-” he turned away from the camera, looking you sincerely in the eye, “You don’t know? You shook your head, “Oh- well, I wasn’t too convinced by the whole fame thing, no offence, so I only agreed to do this if they paid me.”

Continuing your pretence, you just smiled- stroking his arm in order to appease the cameras as well as ease the swirling in your gut- had Bucky really so easily agreed to have you pawned off, simply to appease the opinion of the public? Bucky had never cared for them- not once throughout your time together had he cared about the whispers and the glares and the threats- he had ignored them, steering you away from the bustle of New York and opted to take you into the quieter streets of Brooklyn where he had grown up. The rare diners and stores that had survived since his childhood long ago had become your second home- mid-morning breakfasts and late night, nightmare-fueled outings alike. Luckily, your PR outing had not taken place in those same spots; it would’ve tarnished your relationship with those memories. Laughter and love replaced by fabricated and stilted conversation with a man you had only met that morning. Those days with Bucky had been between the two of you, nothing would ever replicate that. As you stood in the streets of New York, your hand on the arm of an unfamiliar man and the flashes of cameras whirring around you- you realised that whatever reason Bucky had, whatever had convinced him to accept this, you would wholeheartedly understand.

The story was on the front page within a number of hours, a large picture of you plastering on that fake laugh as you stroked John’s arm was relayed across the paper’s online forum- the article as sensationalised and pretentious as it could be.

NEW COUPLE ALERT

Everyone’s favourite Avenger, Y/N L/N, was spotted on the cutest coffee date in New York today, with our favourite military hero John Walker, no less! For those who are unaware of this wonderful hunk of a man, he is the first to gain three medals of honour; everyone commend him for his bravery in defending our country! Sources close to the couple confirm that this relationship is new though it has been building up for a long time with the two deciding to go public this very morning. We congratulate the couple and wish them the best.

There was no going back from this, the documentation of your supposed ‘date’ was now public- part of you hoped that Bucky would see it, feel some twinge of jealousy, regret, whatever emotions came with signing you up so willingly for something like this. Though the other part of you, the part that loved him wholeheartedly; hoped that he wouldn’t see it, hoped that this was all some big misunderstanding that could be left behind; a stupid mistake of the past.

As you stared down at the article, thumbing the screen as you stared down at the photo of yourself in the streets of New York- smile wide, eyes bright, that hand clasped around his arm- a myriad of heels sounded down the hallway.

“Y/N? Are you here?” it was Wanda, you had no doubt that Vision would be following close behind; ready to give some annoyingly insightful advice pulled from some dark corner of a forum. Beckoning her inside, you watched as she entered the room; her face held a number of emotions: stricken, confused, angry. Her left hand held her phone- the article open on your very own could be seen in glimpses as she began to wave her arms frantically. “What- what is going on Y/N? Do you need us to get rid of this? Vision can wipe it from the internet in a matter of seconds- yep- I’ll get him to track down all traces of this photo and remove it. I mean, the audacity of the public to even post things like this; Nat had a similar thing with her assistant and we got rid of that one don’t you-”

“It’s real, Wanda.”

Screeches could practically be heard as Wanda halted in her tracks, behind her Vision too paused suddenly; seemingly phasing back to reality as he halted the tracking within his database. “What do you mean? ‘It’s real’?”

“It’s not a fake, that was this morning.” Your voice was defeated, eyes casted downwards as you refused to meet the eyes of your friend.

“Y/N is correct,” Vision spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he turned to nod at Wanda, “The photo is real.”

“Y/N …” Wanda spoke slowly, her eyes swarming with confusion as she looked between the two of you, “What? I thought- what about Bucky?”

“It’s a scheme set up by the PR department to ‘improve our image’,” you acted out finger quotes sarcastically, “be seen with a nice guy on a few outings and the public opinion of the Avengers soars.”

“How-” Wanda was angry now, her hands clenching as she moved to sit beside you, a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Why would you agree to this, Y/N?”

“It sounded like it would be beneficial, you know, I love helping people and if this is what’s necessary then I’m willing- it’s all strictly professional and Bucky knows-”

“Bucky consented to this?!”

“Mr Barnes did,” Vision spoke, moving to console Wanda with a hand on her back as she began to seethe, “His signature was activated within the database in regards to this contract. It’s all real.”

“Y/N, something isn’t right here,” Wanda’s fists were clenching, her chest stuttering as she stared at you- worry ever-prevalent within her eyes as she watched you, “Bucky would never agree to something like that, I mean- do you remember when you were taken on that mission in monaco? You were gone for three days and the entire time he was inconsolable; stopping at nothing to get you back. There’s no way that same man would agree to something like this for you.”

You could only stare back at her, your lips twisting and stomach clenching as you smiled uneasily, “Well, it’s all been agreed to now. No going back.”

“Okay, well promise me you’ll be careful? God knows the type of people Tony hired for this place.”

You laughed, smiling and nodding at Wanda as you vowed to take care, “Wait- one last thing,” Wanda stopped at the door, the ends of her cardigan twirling as she turned to face you, “I have a dinner set tomorrow night- help me pick an outfit?”

The following day passed all too quickly- the picture had taken the internet by storm; thousands of trending posts, tags and conversations were now revolving around you. People were obsessed at the slightest semblance of a stereotypical romance; the slightest touch, the loving glances, the feeling of believing like you’re the only people to exist in a room. It was funny, really, the fact that what these people wished to be true was just present within the form of a different man. You hadn’t heard from Bucky since his departure, since the release of the picture- it was no different to a usual mission, he would be occupied and undercover, unable to respond to anyone’s messages let alone your own. Though, the feeling still stung- you craved for something- anger, resentment even the slightest show of concern. It almost seemed like he didn’t care.

You thought over this as you sat perched on your bed, watching as Wanda practically tore through your bedroom, waiting to be bustled into the bathroom once again with a handful of clothes.

“I know it’s not real- but if you have hundreds of cameras on you, you need to at least look your best. We can’t have you prancing around anyone’s feed not looking your best.” She threw yet another dress onto the floor behind her, “You never know, Bucky might even see a picture and realise what he’s missing out on.”

You snorted, “Sure, Mhm- he’ll definitely be taking time out of his highly confidential mission to send me a message about a picture of me on social media- something that happens every single day.”

You were wrong, so wrong.

You had been sitting, legs poised and a smile prominent on your face- the ideal image of a romantic dinner date present to the cameras flashing outside. Your chin had been placed on your palm- the image of a doting date listening intently to the fascinating words of the man before them; when your phone began to buzz incessantly.

“I’m so sorry John,” he waved you off, giving you permission to escape to the bathroom to check your phone. Your departure had been strategic: an innocent smile, a flick of the hair and a beeline straight to the bathroom. You had no doubt that the cameras had captured each moment perfectly- ready to coin the escape up to a different, highly-dramatic story. Your heart stuttered as you looked down at the phone screen upon entering the safety of the bathroom stall, “Buck” glared back at you- the ringing continued almost as soon as it had stopped. As if he was clicking the button over and over again, waiting for you to answer. Swearing, you moved to click the accept button- fear causing your legs to shake and teeth to chatter as you wondered why he was calling so obsessively- had something gone wrong on the mission? However, just as you were about to hit accept, a bustle of girls entered the bathroom- each one talking excitedly about how they had seen your date, witnessed the new budding relationship for themselves.

Your finger instead took a different route, moving to decline the call. Bucky’s calls stopped, obviously halted by the confirmation that you were unable to speak through the tune of the calls rejection. The silence allowed you to turn to your voicemails- selecting one of many that Bucky had sent you since his tirade of calls began.

“Please Doll, I am begging you, please pick up. I’m sitting here in some dead-end bar and suddenly I’m seeing your face on the TV with some… military hunk, what is going on? Darling, seriously, are you okay? I can come home immediately and we can talk this over please just pick up and tell me-”

“It’s me again, Doll, what did I do? Did I do something to upset you? I’m so so sorry that I left so abruptly I just didn’t want to wake you- I’ll be back within the next two days, please just tell me what’s going on. The last time I saw you, you were completely fine. Please just answer me.”

Lowering the phone, you stared blankly at the door of the cubicle before you; the endless chatter of the girls beginning to die down as they exited the bathroom. Why did Bucky sound so confused? Rubbing at your forehead, you scrunched your hands over your face- entirely confused as to what was going on. Bucky had willingly signed you away to hang off of the arm of John- he did not get to fuss and act confused now that it was actually happening. He had scanned that fingerprint and signed off your fate.

With a wave of rage rushing your way, tongue in cheek, you tapped over to the messenger app before selecting Bucky’s contact.

You: This is entirely your own doing. You turned off the phone before a reply could be received, shoving it to the bottom of your handbag and straightening out your clothes, before returning to your date and the ever watchful eyes of the public. John grinned at you as you returned, raising his drink as you sat back in your seat.

“I say we keep this going for another twenty minutes or so,” He spoke in a low tone, his finger trailing a drop of condensation running the length of his glass, “I’m assuming that was your man blowing up the phone, my girl is doing the same to me.” Smiling shallowly, you nodded- the fact that the only relative similarity between the two of you was the fact that neither of you wanted to be there was laughable- the background behind Sophia’s opinion that the two of you would be the perfect match was entirely a mystery.

“Well, we at least need to give them something to obsess over as we leave.” You smirked, masking it with a sip from your own glass- the volume of flashes had increased significantly since your return from the bathroom.

“Like?”

“Just follow my lead.”

Upon your joint departure, you took John’s hand in your own; your grip loose in respect for him but clasped enough to seem genuine. You plastered on a grin, seemingly mid-laugh as you were escorted from the restaurant and into the barrage of cameras- the flashing immediately increased in your appearance; a cacophony of shouts and questions immediately sounding behind them. The signature camera for a popular news network sat only a few paces from you; you wondered if this moment would be aired directly to the television Bucky had been watching only minutes ago. Just as you were about to climb into your respective car, you turned and planted a chaste but firm kiss to John’s cheek; causing the crowd to practically go wild- frantic and erratic with the physical confirmation of the public relationship of an Avenger.

As the car door closed, your smile dropped instantly; the facade wearing away instantly in the solitude of blackout windows. Sighing, you turned to Sophia who sat waiting in the seat ahead of you; practically grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I mean, I knew this was going to be a success- but this is insane.” Her phone lay active in her hand, as if she’d been dealing with a constant influx of phone calls, just as you had. “You should congratulate yourself, Y/N, you are amazing.”

“I guess being in an actual relationship helps, knowing what to do and all,” you glared at her in the central mirror, kicking off your heels and rubbing at the ridiculous lipstick you wore, “Which has been pretty much tarnished due to this little project of yours, thanks a lot.”

Sophia shrugged, continuing to smile owlishly at you; frenzied excitement in her eyes, “Well- I was actually thinking that we could continue-”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Why- are you serious? Let alone my own relationship, John is in one too. This needs to end, you’ve got your ratings and you’ve got your money, that was the whole purpose of this.”

Sophia could only grit her teeth, opting to stew in silence at your rejection; her greed prevalent in her lack of response. Just as the car drew close to the entrance of the compound, Sophia gasped; the sound sudden and jolting.

“What?” You snapped upon composing yourself, watching as she turned her phone screen towards you. A newly posted news article was displayed before you.

A Love Triangle Arises?

Onlookers from Mexico report the LIVE reaction of James Barnes, formally the infamous Winter Soldier, regarding the situation with Y/N L/N’s new relationship. Attached is Barnes’ live reaction as he is seen to destroy a television, stated to have displayed our latest obsession- the kiss shared between Y/N and her new love, John Walker. Insiders to the Avengers have previously corroborated rumours detailing a supposed relationship between Barnes and L/N- though with recent news, we thought that it was entirely untrue. Is there some unspoken tension left behind between Y/N and James? Which couple do you prefer?

“Show me the video of me and John.” You ordered, watching as Sophia frantically switched tabs and pulled up the video. Despite only kissing John on the cheek, the video had been tailored to be from an angle that suggested otherwise; the car door disguising the two of you as your movement suggested that a kiss had been shared. “No, no, no.” You chanted, clicking back over to the article regarding Bucky and selecting the attached video. The video was blurry, possibly filmed by the bartender as they cowered behind the bar, watching as Bucky tore the screen from its hinges and tore it apart with his metal arm- his face red with anguish and eyes watery with distress.

“What is going on Sophia?” You turned to her as she began to exit the car, pausing in place, “You said that he agreed to all of this- why- why is he blowing up my phone and seeming so distressed about it all? I don’t understand.” Sophia gave no reply, instead disappearing into the late night darkness of the tower despite your calls. Before you could make chase, Steve entered the garage- a concerned crease to his brow, a hand instantly met your shoulder as he reached you.

“Y/N are you okay?” He stared down at you, his gaze urgent but sincere, “I’ve had Buck blowing up my phone all night and then I’ve seen all of these news articles- What is going on?”

The comforting timbre to his voice made you crack, collapsing into his arms instantly as you sobbed- the tirade of emotions you had felt over the previous days finally reaching a head as you were faced with the sincerity of Captain America. His arms wrapped around you protectively as you shook into his arms, blubbering and sobbing about the whole situation. How it had gone too far, how you didn’t know what to do, how you wanted to make it stop.

“Y/N, I think Wanda was right,” Steve nodded, rubbing your back and turning to lead you into a more comfortable space, “Something about this doesn’t seem right, I mean, I can’t even exaggerate when I say that Bucky’s been blowing up my phone all night- he was crying his heart out Y/N, begging me to find out what is going on with you. I’ve not heard him like that since Monaco.”

“Then … why was his signature in the contract- he allowed all of this.”

“I can’t say exactly what’s happened but, I don’t think he was as willing as it seems.”

“His signature was there, Steve. Bold and Real.”

“I know, I know.” Steve sighed, stroking his chin with his hand as he stood before you, “This just isn’t Buck, Y/N. I know you’re feeling betrayed right now but I know you know this- something isn’t right.”

Nodding, you considered the doubts that had lingered since the beginning- the questions, the worries. You trusted Bucky wholeheartedly- that aforementioned part of you that loved Bucky wholeheartedly had known that something, somewhere was amiss. “I just have to get through this charity gala,” you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your dress; a skimpy thing Wanda had picked out for you, “I signed a contract- I have to do it. Then I will speak to Bucky.”

“He’ll be back by then. Get through that and then talk to him, as soon as you can.”

The following days leading up to the gala were spent back in your previous reprieve- waiting, waiting, waiting for the gala; waiting for Bucky to return. Every fibre of your soul yearned for him, missed him. Craved the touch of his calloused hands and the scent that could apply only to him found at the base of his neck. You missed his private smiles and his soft eyes- the way he makes you feel when his thumb draws constellations onto the blush of your cheeks or the nape of your neck. You missed his anger, his sadness, his happiness and his love. You missed his everything.

No fake relationship could ever replicate that feeling.

“Y/N, please stand still.” Sophia snapped on the night of the gala, stylists bustled around you as they fidgeted with your hair and tightened the ties of your dress. Steve had surveyed at the side of the room, his dressing being immediately before yours, smirking as his own had only taken mere minutes.

“I wish you ladies would fuss this much over me,” Steve smirked from the side of the room, very obviously bored out of his mind and ready for the night to end already.

“You don’t need it Captain,” one of the stylists giggled, to which you scoffed- much to Steve’s amusement. Once you were ready, and finally left to stand upright on your own, Steve led you towards the entrance of the gala- where you were due to meet John.

“Please just talk to him, Y/N,” Steve smiled sadly as you fixed his tie, waiting for John’s arrival, “He’s going crazy- calling and texting me constantly. An old man like me can’t deal with all this.”

You laughed at that, slapping Steve on the chest as he was ever-endearing, “I will, don’t worry,” your expression turned sombre as you turned to survey the growing crowd, wondering if Bucky had arrived yet. As you scanned the crowd, John entered your eye line; the usual smirk plastered on his face complimented by a deep blue suit; matching your gown perfectly. But, he wasn’t Bucky. He would never be Bucky. You had to keep this facade up for just a few more hours before you could collapse into Bucky’s arms, resolve everything, go back to how things had been before his departure. Before pen graced paper and your signatures came into existence on that ridiculous contract.

Offering you an arm, John led you towards the main hall; it felt like all eyes turned to you when you entered- the fresh, new, heartthrob ‘couple’. Mere acquaintances of the Avengers attempted to snidely snap a photo of the two of you and others, with a tad more respect to their name, simply eyed the two of you; humming to each other about how the tabloids had been correct. You spotted Wanda and Vision through the swarms of onlookers before you, dragging John by the arm towards them.

Wanda squealed at the sight of you, her face scrunching and copper curls bobbing in excitement, “You look beautiful, oh Vision doesn’t she look beautiful!”

“Thank you, you look beautiful too Wanda,” You beckoned her into a hug, squeezing your closest friend tight as the two of you rocked together, “Last night of this mess.” You whispered, snickering gleefully.

Wanda pulled back, looking left and right before speaking, “Have you seen him?”

Shaking your head no, you gave her a sad smile, “Have you?”

“No. But … I have seen Sam, who was on the mission with him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s sulking in a corner somewhere around here.”

Vision piped up from beside Wanda, “That is correct, Mr Barnes was spotted on security cameras just seconds ago. I can direct you to his whereabouts?”

“No, no,” You waved your hands in the air frantically, shaking your head to the same tune, “I need to finish this off first,” You gestured to John, who had been lingering on the sidelines throughout the conversation, “Put this whole thing out of its misery.”

John stepped forward then, curling a hand around your shoulder- as careless and loose as ever, “I was hoping we could finish this off soon actually, promised the Mrs I’d be home within the hour,” He stepped back and offered you a hand, “Care for a quick dance?”

Shrugging, you accepted his hand; for once grinning at him sincerely. This dance would finally mark the end of your wretched assignment, “One dance won’t hurt anyone.”

The two of you laughed as he twirled you around the dance floor- so overjoyed at the semblance of freedom from each other; soon to no longer be tied down by the ropes and binds of your arrangement. A particular spin left you winded; clutching your chest and snorting out a laugh as you recovered.

And that’s when your eyes landed on him.

Bucky stood leaning against the bar, nursing a glass of something dark, something heavy. A drink that could infiltrate even the speed of his super soldier blood. His stubble was prominent and the dark bruises marring his eyes only accentuated that. Clenched fists could be seen exiting the sleeves of his black suit- simple, sleek, neat. Obscenely attractive. Steve stood beside him, probably attempting to keep up a somewhat coherent conversation, distracting him from what he was looking at.

You realised that his gaze had not once left you. His eyes were dark, heady, angry- his irises almost black with the obvious rage that existed within him at the sight of you with John. Grip harsh, jaw tight, breaths leaving his chest shuffled and hitched. He was furious.

The second realisation that you came to, was that something was seriously wrong.

“Y/N, Y/N? Are you okay?” John questioned beside you, stealing your gaze away from Bucky’s- his gaze seeming genuinely concerned at your sudden shift in demeanour.

“I- Um-” You stuttered, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you gripped his shoulders urgently, the pulse hammering in your throat like a sounding siren, “We need to end this now John, you can go. Please go.” The urgency in your eyes seemingly sent the message well enough; the threat of the former Winter Soldier all too present within his mind. Watching John’s hasty retreat, you prepared yourself to turn- to make eye contact with Bucky again. To see those dark, hooded eyes. To force yourself not to run straight into his arms.

Not appropriate right now.

Slowly, you turned your head- making direct eye contact with Bucky once again. His eyes were downturned- insistent, obsessive, begging you to provide him with some clarity. He stood stoically in place as you advanced towards him, staring determinedly at your figure and only offering Steve a grunt as he granted him a goodbye, giving up on the one-sided conversation and nodding to you as he departed, his eyes saying ‘good luck’. Keeping your chin high, you stopped beside Bucky- ordering yourself a drink at the bar and simply turning to stare at him once you were done. He stared forward resolutely, though the constant flare of his nostrils gave him away entirely.

Upon the arrival of your drink, you drank a considerable amount before turning to him, liquid courage and all, “What the hell is goin’ on Buck?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Doll,” Bucky ground his teeth, the ministrations dancing within his jaw as he still refused to meet your gaze, “I go away on a mission and the next thing I know I’m seeing you gallivanting around New York on the arm of another man.” He took a long drought from his glass, finishing the drink and slamming it down onto the counter behind him, “Nobody will tell me what is happening and now one moment I’m watching you have the time of your life on the dancefloor and the next you come to me once your little boy-toy has scurried away.”

“Bucky. Seriously? You signed the contract to allow-”

“See, this is what everyone is telling me,” Bucky turned to face you then, his mouth curling downwards and his eyes filled with anguish, “But no one is able to tell me what it is exactly that I signed- when did I sign on to this Y/N?”

“Are you kidding me?” Your tone heavy with the weight of anger and betrayal as you spat the words, Bucky’s mask of anger faltering slightly as he heard your voice, “Your signature was there- bold and animated- on that contract, Bucky.” You shook your head, mouth drooping as you spoke, sadness now present within your features, “You signed me away Bucky, you did this to me.”

“Please, Doll.” Bucky was begging now, his eyes curved and teary as he clasped your shoulders, “Please tell me what you are talking because I seriously have no idea.”

“How-” You suddenly realised that a number of inquisitive eyes had turned towards the two of you, Bucky’s hands on your shoulders- your own in mid-air reaching towards his. “We can’t do this here Buck.” At that, you dragged him from the room; the two of you entered the hallway in silence before making a number of twists and turns- ensuring shelter from the public’s ever watchful eyes. “How do you not know Buck- like I said your signature was there.” Your voice was quieter, calmer, more meagre now as you practically pleaded with the man before you.

He was pleading right back, his metal hand moving to cup your cheek- the warmth of its plates familiar and a comforting presence. “Okay, Doll- let’s start from the beginning, untangle all of this mess. I signed a contact last week which would agree that we’d be seen together at the gala. You know, I- I’ve been feeling like I’m ready to go public with you and I was told that it wouldn’t be much, just a dance and a few photo opportunities. I don’t- I understand if that upset you, I’m sorry if I was too eager and I … completely understand why you’ve decided to do this I just, I wish you could’ve done it to my face? Why did you leave me to find out like-”

Bucky’s speech was stopped by your instant attack as you pressed your lips to his, your hands gripping his stubbled cheeks like a lifeline as you pressed kiss after kiss to his mouth, attempting to drown in his taste as you sobbed against him, “I’m so sorry.” You chanted continuously as you kissed, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, “This isn’t your fault, you did nothing wrong, Buck.” Your words were halted by erratic sobs as your scenario finally reached a state of clarity, he reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks instantly; the pads of his fingers picking up the broken shards and piecing them back together perfectly, back where they belonged.

“I don’t under-”

“No, no Bucky. It’s okay.” You pulled away from him, shaking your head and breathing, grinning at him widely, “I- god this is ridiculous, I swear I am going to destroy her. I- well, PR told me that you had signed a contract agreeing for me to engage in a fake public relationship, I mean I saw your signature and instantly assumed the worst of you, I am so sorry Bucky- and I just went along with it because I trust you and what you said in the kitchen only supported that. But then everything happened and I was just so so confused about it all and you weren’t here and I just wanted to see you again-”

Bucky halted your tirade then, placing his own mouth against yours as you resumed your previous feverish kissing; clinging onto him as he intertwined his fingers into the long curls of your hair, the straps of your dress, the span of your hips. Eventually, he pulled back, wholly gripping his face in yours as his toothy grin glistened down at you- his face the perfect display of relief and adoration. “It’s okay,” he smiled, nodding as his eyes remained teary, your own face a mirror image of his, “We’re going to be okay.” He stroked your hair and placed a kiss to your forehead, rocking you and shushing you tentatively as you continued to cry into the comfort of his chest. “Let’s get you into bed and out of this gorgeous dress, yeah?” He mumbled, toying with the straps of your dress as he stared adoringly down at you, “I’ve not had my Doll-time in forever.”

Giggling, you slapped him on the chest, clasping his offered hand and allowing him to lead you down the hallway- towards the comfort of tousled sheets and intertwined legs; secret touches in the darkness of night and the relief that would settle between you as the string was no longer pulled taut.

Part 2- ‘Public Display’

#misunderstandings trope will be torn from my cold dead hands #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #wanda maximoff #MCU fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #mcu

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darantha · 1 year

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How to Spot AI images (Hopefully)

So, I did see GailyNovelry's excellent post on this (Link here), but saw that there also were some confusion and they were using a environment image as their example, so I thought I'd do a breakdown that was more character centric.

The key thing with AI images is that the program does not know what it is making. And, arguably, they thrive on that we are currently conditioned to not really look at things for too long before we hit that engagement button and/or just scroll onwards to whatever next the algorithm feeds us.

It's hard to fight that urge, I know, but if you just pause and look, you'll soon start spotting things that just do not make sense, and I don't just mean that the pretty booby elven fighter is sporting seven fingers on one hand. Those are the obvious things. I'll try to cover the general sort of artefacts that tend to tip me off to the fact that a image is generated rather than actually hand-made by someone making informed design decisions as opposed to trust what amounts to RNG. I think this is important as there's those who do not tag their images as AI generated, and try to scam people with commissions.

And, as the saying goes... The devil is in the details.

To start with I picked this image from deviantuser CeiEllem. At first glance, it looks... very impressive. Sharp looking elf lady with killer hair. 10/10 wish I could rock that haircolour.

But, it is AI generated. Aside from the general tell that is this hyper rendered, near photorealistic style that AI images often have, there's a lot of details that tips it off to just not having been made by a human who actually made the decisions.

Since AI is just working off patterns and not actual decisions, things like hair is a immediate giveaway that you're looking at a AI image.

(Deviantart users: daralyth, DavidZarn and lunayokai)

In all these three images you can see just how hair whisps off into weird nonsense shapes or even meld into the background or clothing. Because, again, the AI doesn't know what its doing, just working with shapes. Similarly, background elements that just stop and start randomly is a dead giveaway, like the tail in the first image.

As I've said, details is the key to spotting these images, and another giveaway is the sheer density of details that is just noise.

This is from users Rigtorok7, and the details are so noisy, absolutely miniscule in scale, and hypersharp, yet have no actual design to them. Artists imply details all the time. We don't render out every single nook and crevice, and since we actually know what we want the viewer to look at, we'll pull back and simplify things so you don't want to look at the big chunk of very noisy hair ornament or necklace instead of the face of the character.

For comparison, this is how it looks when I, personally, indulge in doing 'overdetailing' of something (because I am forever weak for painting jewelry).

BUT I want to stress that the key here isn't that detailing equals AI generated. The key is the lack of design choices IN the details. There's a lot of artists out there, and someone painting out all those nooks and crannies in something doesn't mean they are a AI user. This painting by Leighton is super detailed but you see the intent with all the details. You have a focus with the people in the boat and secondary read of the figure in the door, where the details are a lot more implied and less sharp.

AI can't do that, because AI isn't making any decisions.

I couldn't find any good example once I went looking, but if you're into fantasy art: look for people just holding weird 'swords'.

AI is rapidly evolving, so who knows how much this'll help in 3 months, but for now, this is how I spot things.

But, in the end, the biggest giveaway that someone is using an AI generator is that they've filled up page after page on deviantart/artstation/wherever in the past like... six to nine months, and often swing between wildly different styles. If you're unsure, look up the source of a image. Another clue can be generic 'untitled' or just 'elf lady' sort of titles, since someone uploading 30 images a week isn't going to make unique titles for each image.

Also, commissioners. ... you should ALWAYS get a sketch and progress image from a artist that you hire. My art directors would have my head on a plate if I didn't send them a rough sketch and progress shot before finalising the image.

#go forth #be free PSA post

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dammn-dean · 3 months

Note

Hii could you do a ghost x reader who is just gave birth having their day old child and soap John gaz came over to ghost house to see the baby once the reader left the room to go breastfeed their baby in their room price telling ghost how far he had come in life

Here you go! Thank you for the request, and I hope it’s okay. I made it a bit more (just a week) rather than a day old before they came over. That’s just because if someone came to my house the day I got home after giving birth, I would kill them 😅

Too Good

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Words: 2400+

Warnings: Nothing really!

Also, this is the same universe as Unexpected! You don't have to read them first, but if you want to here is Part 1 and Part 2.

Beautiful art/rendering from @ave661

"Love, they are here!” Simon’s voice bellowed through the flat to reach your ears.

You let out a small, “Okay,” just loud enough for him to hear it. Your eyes staring back at you in the mirror, checking your appearance.

Today was the day you were finally going to meet Simon’s team. You had overheard a conversation he had on the phone a week back, when you finally were home from the hospital. Simon was good at being sneaky (it was in the job description) but you still overheard him.

“Aye, I need a bit more time,” he murmured into the phone.

After a brief pause, “What do you mean ‘Just because’ isn’t an excuse?” He huffed.

You were paused in the hallway, sleeping baby in your arms just praying she would stay asleep so you could listen in to the conversation a moment longer.

“Gaz saw me take off from base? Bloody hell.” You could almost hear him gripping between his eyes in irritation.

“Yes, I promise everything is alright yeah? Just had a bit of something to do.” He explained vaguely as ever.

There was a long pause on his end, like the person on the other side of the phone was lecturing him. He will give an occasional small ‘Yes’, ‘I know’ or ‘Yes sir’, which had you wondering who he was talking to.

“Fuck me, Cap. You make it impossible to not tell you everything. Listen, I’ll call you later today and tell you everything okay?” Simon barely paused long enough for a response before he hung up.

With a long sigh, he stood from his spot on the couch. He had noticed you were gone an awfully long time and began down the hallway to check on you.

Too focused on slowly rocking your sleeping daughter in your arms and trying to be quiet to listen to his call you hadn’t even realized Simon was heading your way until it was too late.

You almost jumped out of our skin when he appeared like an apparition into your vision.

“Jesus Si!” You quietly yelled, more of a whisper to make sure you didn’t wake the baby.

You watched as his lips curled into a smirk. “And just what are you doing sweetheart?” He leaned his shoulder into the wall as casual as ever.

“Oh uh- well I was you know, well I was-“ your brain couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough.

“Didn’t take you for an eavesdropper sweet girl,” he said with a grin.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” you replied defensively.

“Right,” he laughed. “Hear anything good?”

“Not… really,” you murmured, clearly caught.

“That was my Captain,” he explained. “Checking in on things after the way I left base.”

You simply nodded, not quite sure what to say.

“I thought I had left unseen, but apparently Gaz saw me leave ‘in a panic’ as he put it,” he rolled his eyes. “So he wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Makes sense.” You bit the inside of your lip to stop from adding on to the sentence.

But Simon always reads you like a book. He squinted at you before questioning “What is it?”

Your eyebrows almost shot to your hairline at that. You cleared your throat and slowly walked around him to head towards the living room. The baby’s bassinet was in there and it would make it easier to have this conversation if she wasn’t in your arms. You gently placed her down with a kiss on her head, Simon followed right behind you and mirrored you with a tender kiss in the exact spot you had kissed her precious little head.

You sighed softly before sitting on the couch. Simon sat beside you, shifting himself to face you a little more before you started talking.

“I suppose I wondered… why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” You questioned softly.

“Just what do you mean sweetheart?”

“Well I mean… why didn’t you just tell him you left because I called you and that we have a baby.” You asked with a small tilt of your head.

“Oh.” Simon responded with a hand on the back of his neck. He took a moment or two before his eyes met you again. “Love, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way and I hope you will let me explain.” He pleaded.

Even though that made you terrified, you just focused on your breathing and nodded.

“Well I haven’t told the team about you yet,” he explained softly.

Your face betrayed you and it fell immediately, eyes unable to meet him. Not even a second passed before his hands were on your tugging your chin back up to look at him.

“It isn’t like that my love,” Simon went on. “You are just… everything to me. I come here to you and I don’t think about work. You deserve the world and somehow I thought keeping you and them separated would be best.”

Hazel eyes held yours for a long time, nothing but true and raw emotion in them to convey he was telling the truth.

“I understand,” you replied quietly.

“Also, we haven’t really talked about if you wanted me to tell the team so I didn’t want to overstep…” Simon professed.

As silly as it sounds out loud, he never wanted to force you to be a part of that part of his life, a part of the Ghost’s life. He has endured things you never deserved to even hear of, his sweet girl didn’t need to be exposed to it all if he had any say in the matter.

“I don’t mind if you tell people about me,” you said, almost embarrassed. You could feel the tips of your ears warming at the confession.

“Yeah pretty?” He smiled as he gently touched your cheek with his fingers? “You want me to tell my team about you?”

“Well I don’t-you don’t have to.” You mumbled out quickly.

“You think I wouldn’t want to tell them about you?” Simon asked honestly. His fingers gently pushed your hair behind your ear.

“I- I don’t know. Does everyone else talk about their partners?” You questioned honestly.

“Price is the only one with a partner, Gaz and Johnny brag about their flings occasionally.” Simon broke into a big grin. “They won’t know what to do when I tell them about you.”

“Oh,” you bit the inside of your lip again. “So you want to tell them about me?”

“Of course love… I’ve almost let it slip out a few times as is,” Simon leaned in to brush a kiss along your cheek. “And I can’t wait to tell them about Emma too. If you are okay with that?” He pulled back to read your face.

“I’m okay with it if you are, Si,” you reassured him.

“I’m okay with it… but I will warn you once I tell them they won’t want to wait long before seeing you and the little miss,” he smiled as he leaned his head to meet yours.

You paused for a moment, taking him in. Feeling safe and happier than you can remember feeling in a long time. “I’m okay with that.”

So there you stood, in your mirror. Checking your appearance for the 5th or 6th time for the night. Even though you were a new mom, dealing with a changed body you wanted to make a good impression.

Emma had been in her bassinet sleeping, awaiting the arrival of Simon’s friends (or work mates as he put it). Your body was still healing, so you had thrown on a soft but matching lounge set and felt nice to not be wearing a spit-up stained shirt and sweats for once.

Simon opened the front door to see Price, Gaz and Johnny. All looking varied shades of giddy. Johnny was all but bouncing on his toes. Gaz held a kind smile that was a little bit too big to be classified as a ‘normal’ grin. Price stood behind the other two, stoic and holding a pretty bouquet of flowers.

“Flowers are for the Missus,” Price began with a smile.

“And this is for the little miss,” Gaz exclaimed. Pulling a gift bag that was hidden behind his back.

Simon couldn’t help the small chuckle that fell from him.

“Well come in then, yeah?” He asked with an arm out inviting his team into your flat.

One by one the men made their way inside, all smacking Simon’s shoulder with pride before coming face to face with you in the living room. Simon took a few steps in your direction, before placing a gentle hand on your lower back to guide you deeper into the room.

“Price, Johnny, Gaz,” Simon began pointing as he said their name. “This is Y/N, sweetheart… this is my team.” Simon wouldn’t admit that he was nervous, but you could hear the waver in his voice that wasn’t usually there.

“Heya there Mrs Ghost,” Johnny spoke up first, hand out shaking yours gently. “You dinnae tell us she was such a bonnie lass aye, LT.” His Scottish accent was thick, but the compliment followed by the wink he gave you had your ears burning.

“Don’t you start with her MacTavish,” Simon warned jokingly, but pulled you into him a little more.

“I’m Gaz,” Gaz spoke up with a charming smile and a small handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied as your eyes fell to the small gift bag in his hand. He held the gift out, and Simon grabbed it. “We got the little Miss a gift, hope that’s alright.” Gaz gave you a huge grin showing almost all of his teeth. Even if you weren’t okay with the gift, how could anyone say no to him?

The last man, with the mutton chops was the only one left and you knew who he was because Simon spoke about him the most to you, Captain Price.

The Captain held out a beautiful bouquet of flowers to you, which you took immediately and smelled. “Nice to meet you,” he began. “Hard to believe someone has held Ghost’s heart and he is just now telling us about you.” He held a polite smile, but his voice had an edge to it.

Simon’s hand that was free raised to the back of his neck nervously. You let your eyes drift to his for a moment, silently checking in. Simon gave your waist a small and reassuring squeeze, signally that he’s good.

“Thank you all for the gifts… and it’s so nice to meet all of you. It’s great to be able to put faces to the names from Si’s stories.”

“Si, eh?” Johnny’s lips turn up in a grin at the nickname.

“Johnny,” Price spoke up at that, warning him to behave.

“Well who wants to meet Emma?” You spoke up, ready to move past the formalities.

Simon nodded, and led you over to where she was still sleeping soundly in the bassinet. Once your eyes fall on her sleeping form you can’t help but smile. As gently as Simon could he picked her up with a kiss on her head, and laid her in your arms so that everyone could see her. The men gently circle in around you, none of them wanting to be the last to lay their eyes on her.

“Wow,” Gaz whispered out.

“Beautiful bairn LT,” Johnny complimented. His hand reaching out for Simon’s shoulder again to congratulate.

“This is Emma,” you introduce her to the team.

She was tiny, sleeping while swaddled in her blanket. Price felt pride swell up in his chest, same as he would as if this was his biological grandchild. Simon stood at your side, watching you show off your daughter. Hand never leaving your lower back, as his other gently brushes her little cheek with the back of two fingers.

Simon looked to Price and their eyes met, “Congratulations you two, what a wonderful baby girl.”

Emma decided now was the time to start whimpering, in warning before she started to cry out. You immediately started shushing her gently and bouncing her softly, to soothe her.

“I think it’s time for someone to eat,” you explain to the group. “We will be back.”

Simon whispers into your ear, just a small word of encouragement before you head to the nursery to feed your daughter.

They all watch you leave, no one speaking up until the door closes behind you.

“Well if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Gaz gushed immediately.

“Aye, LT you are pulling way outcha league,” Johnny bellows out a laugh at that.

“Shut it, Johnny.” Simon rolls his eyes before heading to the kitchen. “Want a drink?” They all give different versions of a yes, then Price speaks up that he will join Simon in the kitchen. Gaz and Johnny then take a seat on the couch, starting up conversation immediately.

Simon heads straight to the cabinet snagging 4 tumblers out, before reaching to the bourbon on the counter.

“Thanks for inviting us Simon,” Price started. “Your girls are lovely.”

Simon couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips. Despite how uncomfortable he was with all of this, from inviting his team into your flat, being a new father, hell he hasn’t even asked you if he can move in with you full time yet, he felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

“Thanks Price.” He slid his glass across the island to Price, and he accepted the glass with a tilt of his head.

“You have come a long way, Simon.” Price expressed honestly. “In more ways than I can ever express.” He leaned his elbows on the island, looking into the glass of amber liquid. “Seeing you happy like this isn’t something I ever expected.” Price pulled his eyes from the glass to meet Simon’s.

“Hell, I for sure never expected it,” Simon joked.

“I mean it,” Price held a serious tone. “You deserve this.”

Simon nodded, not sure he did deserve this, but no sense in saying it outloud.

“Aye, LT you mind if we put the match on?” Gaz asked from the entry of the kitchen, hand gesturing back to the TV in the living room.

“Sure,” he answered with a shake of his head.

Without another word, Simon grabbed a second tumbler for one of the guys as Price grabbed the remaining one.

“Who would believe we are going to watch the football match in Ghost’s flat?” Johnny jokes from the couch, grabbing the glass Simon handed him.

With a roll of his eyes, “Don’t get used to it.” Although, a smile was on his lips and his tone wasn’t as serious as usual. Maybe having them over isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Since this could be read as part 3 of Unexpected I went ahead and tagged you all again! Hope that is okay 😊

Tags: @daemondoll @mileyraes @axoleos @arminarlertssword @wawuwe @cxltblood @mrflyingbanana03 @itsmytimetoodream @arminarlertssword @mrssabinecallas @babygirl-riley @gplol @yuly

Thank you for reading! If you have an idea or request for a fic, feel free to send 🖤

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #reader insert #simon riley #call of duty #thank you

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