#it's just thinking of Things that's hard...

[tojishousewife]

Farmer toji x bunny reader.

cw - rough sex, tiny anal play, size kink, dumbification

The livestock didn’t even flinch anymore. They were used to it by now.

You were draped over the edge of the old wooden fence of one of the stables like a ragdoll, your little tail flicking erratically as farmer Toji pounded his girthy dick into you from behind. His huge hands squeezes your hips tight enough to bruise, manhandling you back onto his shaft over and over while his heavy body towered over yours—your toes were barely even touching the ground. The creaking wood beneath you almost seemed to shriek with every brutal thrust that the massive man delivered.

“Fucking listen to that shit,” Toji growled, voice guttural as his hips smacked into your rippling ass loudly. “You hear how sloppy this pussy’s getting? Nasty cunt’s fucking singing to me from how wet she’s soaking my cock”.

Your cunt squelched around his thick cock with every rough stroke, leaking down your trembling thighs, soaking the hay-strewn floor beneath your feet. His cock was so fat, you could feel your gummy walls struggling to hold onto him, stretched wide and raw with every deep drag of his length. Your breath came out in helpless, high-pitched gasps, each one bouncing off the barn walls.

“Stuffed full’a cock,” he rasped, letting one hand slide up to your lower back, pressing you down even more until your face was nearly buried in the hay. “Barely any room left, huh?”

You couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t form. Your mouth hung open, drooling onto the wooden beam, tears spilling freely as your body spasmed. Your vision blurred. Your mind was mush. The only thing you could focus on was how brutally stuffed full you were, his cock punching up into you again and again like it was trying to rearrange your insides.

“Bet you can’t even think straight right now,” he groaned against your ear, broad chest pressed flush to your smaller back. “So dumb and empty up here.” He gave your temple a rough, qteasing tap with two fingers. “All your brains are leaking out your drooling cunt”.

A sob tore from your throat — you didn’t even know if it was pleasure or desperation anymore. His cock was stretching you so wide your belly ached, and yet your hips still kept pushing back to meet him, chasing the sickening pressure of his fat tip battering your cervix.

“You keep squeezing me like that, baby, like you’re tryna pull my fucking load out of me,” Toji panted, his voice breaking into a low laugh. “Greedy fucking hole, you’ll get it soon enough, don’t worry”.

Then you felt his rough fingers slide back between your cheeks, spreading your ass wider. Your tiny tail twitched wildly as his fat, calloused thumb circled the little hole in your ass, smearing your slick mess over it.

“You know I’ve been waiting for this, baby,” he murmured, panting against your cheek. “This cute little backhole just winking at me every time you bend over in that short little skirt”. His breath was ragged. “Begging me to stuff it full”.

Before you could even react, his thumb pushed forward, breaching the tight ring. The stretch made your entire body jerk forward against the fence, whimpering like an animal as he worked his thumb in and loosened you slowly. The barn was filled with nasty, wet sounds: your pussy sucking him in, your asshole stretching around his finger, your gasps and mewls bouncing off the beams.

“That’s it. Take both, bunny,” he crooned, almost sweet if it weren’t so fucking nasty. “One cock, one thumb. Little holes stretching so pretty for me. You’re made for this shit”.

Your brain barely functions anymore. Your legs were shaking so bad you thought they’d give out, but Toji had you trapped — his thick arm snaked around your neck now, locking you tight against his chest as his hips picked up their brutal pace again.

“Fucking perfect,” he moaned into your ear, hips snapping forward in hard, sloppy thrusts. “Stretched wide n’ drooling with your ass plugged up— fucking look at you”.

You sobbed brokenly, eyes rolling back as your body convulsed around him, orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. You couldn’t even breathe properly, too full, too overwhelmed — your pussy spasming wildly as he groaned deep and snapped his hips flush to your ass.

“Take it, take it,” he hissed, and then you felt the hot flood of his release pump deep inside you. Heavy spurts of cum filled your cunt while his thumb wriggled deeper into your ass, holding you stretched open as his cock pulsed inside your clenching walls.

The cows were mooing again, the sheep shifting, but neither of you heard any of it anymore.

His breath was shaky and hot on your cheek as he finally let his weight rest on top of you, trapping you under him like you were nothing but his little fucktoy.

“Don’t move, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Might not be done with you yet”.

[wintrbears]

Cradle Robbers: The First Trimester | JJK

Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)

Word Count: 26k+

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, fear, anxiety, crying, screaming, arguing, vomiting, cravings, drinking (not OC), mention of withdrawal, doctor's offices, ultrasounds, pregnancy tests, mentions of a break-up, pet names (bambi/bams, babygirl, baby), cats, dogs, wealth, sex in a movie, tickling, karaoke, medication, talk of childbirth, periods, birth control failure, video games, parental expectations. SMUT: kissing, unprotected sex (obviously), neck kissing, penetrative sex, missionary, dick riding, sideways/from behind, oral sex (both receiving), face riding, face fucking, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, BIG DICK JK!!!, spanking, cream pie, titty sucking, pleasuring with underwear, ripping underwear, implication of sexual favors, hickies, soreness, aftercare, masturbation (f), cuddling, cock warming, alright I think that's all folks!

Author's Note: it's finally hereeee. this is the first of three parts for my new series and i'm so, so excited to share it with you guys! koo and bambi have my whole heart along with all their friends and family we meet. I know pregnancy fics aren't always the most loved, but I assure you this Jungkook is so worth it... he's tooth-rottingly sweet and soooo sexy! also, I linked the video of the boys performance bc it's too freaking good not to watch, so look out for that (and also ignore yoongi not actually being there lmao). please let me know what you guys think and/or any predications you have for the next chapter, the baby's name and/or gender, etc. I LOVE hearing what you guys have to say! OK ily bye :)

ZERO

The sound of some garbage eating rodent is the first thing you hear after kicking your apartment door open with the tip of your boot. Muscle memory brings your hand to the light switch, but you aren’t able to flip it up because the lights are already on. So, the rodent is big enough to reach that height… wonderful. 

You toe your boots off and hang your coat up, tossing your keys in the old stolen ashtray you use to house them. When you round the corner, the familiar, lovable vermin is bent over as he rummages through your fridge. 

It’s ridiculous, honestly, given that this particular species of rat earns quadruple your salary. 

“Koo,” you get his attention. 

“Hm?”

He doesn’t budge an inch when responding to the call of his nickname. Eyes rolling back, you stroll over and smack his ass as hard as you can.

“Yo!” Jungkook jerks up and just barely misses hitting his head on the refrigerator. “Take me to dinner first.”

“I am,” you reply. “You’re eating my food.”

Jungkook smiles innocently and squishes your cheeks with his fingers before shaking your head back and forth. 

“And I’m so, so grateful,” he teases in a baby voice. 

You swat his hand away, but the light in your eyes and the remnants of a smile on your face reveal your true feelings about his teasing.

This predicament is one of your own creation, since you gave Jungkook a key a while ago in case of emergencies. The issue is, an emergency for Jungkook can be your place being closer to the gym than his, and he needs a snack after his workout. In your mind, the purpose was so he can bring you chocolate ice cream on your period and take down intruders. He’s only done one of those things so far, and the intruder was a stray cat.

Falling to your couch with a soft thump, you groan and tilt your head back against the cushions. Today was egregiously long and definitely not worth the money it made you. The only upside is it’s Friday and you have two whole days to lounge around your apartment and do nothing at all. 

Jungkook comes around the peninsula which separates your kitchen from your living room with a fresh bowl of instant ramen in his hands. He blows on the noodles for a second before slurping them into his mouth, all without noticing the glare you’re sending his way. His eyes crinkle when he sees you, letting you know he’s smiling, even though you can’t see his mouth behind the bowl. 

“What’s with the face, Bambi?” 

“You seriously didn’t think of making one for me?” You ask through a pout.

You finally see Jungkook’s smile when he lowers the bowl to place it on the peninsula. He looks proud, his head tilting as he chuckles to himself. 

Then, you hear the microwave go off, and your glare quickly turns into a grin. 

Jungkook grabs the second bowl from the microwave and sets it on the counter. You watch appreciatively as he rips open the sauce packet before putting it between his teeth and using his chopsticks to pour it all into the bowl. The crinkle of a cheese wrapper opening brings your eyebrows up your forehead in delight. He drops the orange square into the bowl and mixes everything together with the chopsticks before holding it out towards you. 

“You gonna take that shit back now or what?”

You beam and giggle as you stand, practically skipping across the room so you can take the bowl of delicious noodles from him.

“Thank you,” you sing-song.

“Mmhmm.”

The two of you eat on your couch in a slurp filled ambiance. It’s an old, familiar scene and one you always appreciate even if you don’t say it outloud. 

They say you choose your friends, but Jungkook was pretty much forced on you. Your mothers are college roommates who became best friends and later married another pair of best friends. The women proceeded to plot and plan accordingly so they would be pregnant together and their kids would be the same age. Unfortunately, your parents went off script by about six months, but you and Jungkook are still close enough in age to be in the same grade throughout school. 

Even though your friendship was intricately planned long before your conception, you’re close of your own volition. 

Jungkook is not only your best friend, but the most amazing person you know and probably in existence. You wouldn’t trade him for the world if it came down to it. In fact, if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, and somehow his death is the only way to find a cure, you will Joel Miller-style kill every single person who dares to try and take him from you. They can rip your dorky, caring, smart-ass best friend from your cold, dead hands. Everyone else can become zombies for all you care, everyone but him.

The sound of a bowl meeting the coffee table pulls your attention back to the man beside you. He kicks his feet up and stretches his arms above his head in relaxation. When the action reveals a sliver of skin from below the hem of his shirt, you use the opportunity to tickle him and laugh when he groans and folds into himself.

“Is this really the game you wanna play, Bams?” He speaks to the floor, still hunching over from your attack.

Bambi, or Bams for short, is the only name Jungkook calls you. Sometimes, you jokingly accuse him of forgetting your real name altogether, which then spurs him on to attempt “guessing” what it is. Ironically, neither of you nor your parents can recall the origin of the nickname. Like some strange Mandela effect, one day he started calling you by the Disney character’s name and never stopped. 

If memory serves correctly, you think the last time you heard the syllables of your name leave his mouth was in fifth grade when he defended you against a clique of mean girls. Something along the lines of “leave my Y/N alone,” in his adorable kiddie Jungkook voice.

He’s certainly gone through some drastic changes since then. His voice now filters out in a deep, honey tone, he doesn’t use his bangs to conceal his starry eyes anymore, and he’s got you beat by a few inches in height. You’re different, too, mostly in the way you no longer need him to defend you on the playground. He still would, though, and he often tries on nights out when someone tries testing your patience. 

Jungkook would never hurt a fly, but he’s got an entire sleeve of tattoos, multiple piercings, and broad shoulders, so he uses his outward appearance to his advantage and scares people away when necessary.

You don’t respond to his taunt, instead you slowly slide across the fabric of the couch, as quietly as you can so he doesn’t pick up on the movement. He, of course, notices right away, and a cheshire grin appears before your eyes.

Standing up like lightning, you make a break for your bedroom, but you only reach the back of the couch before his arms are clinching you by the waist. 

“No!” You shout and kick the air as he tugs you back towards the furniture. 

“You asked for this.”

“Koo, no!” 

He drops you unceremoniously onto the cushions where you flail in an attempt to escape, but it’s futile because Jungkook is already bending down to tickle your sides. Hysterical laughter fills the space as his fingertips pitter-patter on your skin. Your best friend is ruthless as always, never halting his actions even as you squirm and swat at him to get away. 

“Say you’re sorry, Bambi.”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna fucking pee my pants,” you threaten.

“Not my problem,” he responds. 

You gasp and recoil when he starts tickling your neck, rendering you completely useless to do anything but suffer. Eventually, your brain returns from its momentary vacation and you find the will to fight back, grabbing his hands and pulling them away as you attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook’s smiling like the devil himself above you and you resist the urge to slap the smirk right off his handsome face.

This behavior is par for the course for you both, because you’re a brat who likes to test his limits, and he’s too competitive to let you have the last laugh. 

Jungkook stands to his full height, smirk still intact, while you struggle to slow your jackrabbiting heart. He moseys over to your bookshelf to survey its contents, and once you’re sitting up again, you chuck a throw pillow across the room at him. It meets his back before pathetically falling to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. He just shakes his head and tsks at your feeble attempt at payback.

His fingers trace over the items occupying your bookshelf before settling on a thin rectangle and removing it from its home.

“Movie night?” 

He rests the corner of the DVD case against his head to show it off to you. You call him towards you with your hand so you can inspect the item for yourself. It houses a movie you haven’t seen in a long time, some low budget rom com with good sex scenes. Shrugging, you nod your head at him and watch as he goes to play the movie in your now ancient DVD player.

“I’ll go make popcorn,” you announce before standing and heading to the kitchen. 

Jungkook plummets into the couch and grabs your fuzzy blanket to spread over his legs. When you return with a large bowl of popcorn to share, he lifts the blanket and readjusts it to cover your legs as well. 

Neither of you pay much attention to the plot, too busy joking around when characters say stupid lines. You spend your time talking about your week and any plans for the upcoming weekend instead. Jungkook’s just finishing up his story about his boss accidentally unmuting himself on Teams when the first sex scene catches your attention. You both actually focus on the screen for the first time and Jungkook tilts his head while tonguing his cheek as the male character descends down the female character’s body and kisses her skin as he goes. 

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks as he throws a kernel of popcorn into the air and catches it with his mouth. 

“About what?” You look towards the screen. “Sex?” He nods and puts his arm behind you on the couch so he can face you. “Like, in general, or —”

“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. “Like us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, have you thought about us having sex?”

The popcorn in your mouth goes down the wrong tube when you choke in response to his question. You hit your chest once to help it descend your esophagus before reaching for your drink on the coffee table. The time it takes you to gulp down the fizzy beverage isn’t nearly enough for you to gather your thoughts.

“Koo, what the actual fuck,” you scold him. 

“Is that a no?” He raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Because I know I have.”

“Ew, when?” 

“It’s not often, just like, every once in a while,” he explains. “I just think it would be fun! This is not me making some grandstand announcement about how I’ve always wanted you or some shit.” He readjusts so his entire body faces you directly. “Listen, we’ve done everything together. Skydiving, parasailing, swimming with dolphins, stealing from the grocery store, sneaking into the movies, you name it. Doesn’t it make sense that we should do everything before we aren’t able to anymore?”

“You forced me to go skydiving, Jungkook.” 

“That’s not the point, Bambi,” he playfully grits his teeth. “Eventually, we’re gonna settle down with our own partners and the window of opportunity will be gone. Why not try something new together while we still can?” 

Your teeth hold your bottom lip captive as your mind processes his proposal. Truthfully, you have thought about it, same as him. Not in some romantic, storybook way, but just from a perspective of knowing he’s a handsome guy with a great build and it would probably be a fun night for both of you. This conversation scares the shit out of you, though. Thinking about it is one thing, but attempting to manifest it into reality is a whole other beast. The list of things that could go wrong is longer than a CVS receipt. Then again, you and Jungkook have been through everything together and you’ve always made it out on the other side. 

“Koo, I don’t know…” you admit. “I love me some good casual sex with no feelings involved, but this is us we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” He claps his hands together eagerly. “It’s us, probably the only two people in the whole world who nothing can come between.” Jungkook sighs and eats more popcorn from the bowl still in your lap. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Bams, I just really think we’d both have a great time. I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, I’ve got a big dick, I’m sure your pussy is tight, what else could you want?”

You laugh at his reasoning, throwing your head back and holding the position as you blow air from your mouth. A couple anticipatory moments pass as your mind weighs the options. A large intake of air fills your lungs before you lift your head.

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Okay?”

“Okay, Koo.”

Jungkook giggles like a little kid, his feet stamping the ground repeatedly as he pumps his arms in excitement. Your laughter returns in response to his celebration, rolling your eyes affectionately at the familiar behavior of your childhood best friend.

“You said yes because I called you tight, is that it?”

Shaking your head, you push his shoulder back with your hand, using your other one to place the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes turn into big oases of black as his pupils dilate and conceal the normal chocolate color of his irises. You take your time straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beside his hips. 

“No,” you answer him. Making a show of flipping your hair over your shoulder and bending down until you’re face to face. You avoid his lips, which are pouting slightly, to place a kiss over the tiny mole on his neck. “I said yes because you said you have a big dick and now I need to find out if that’s true,” you whisper into his ear. 

Your voice has a sultry edge you’ve never used in his presence before. Sitting back on your heels, you gaze at him with an innocent smile as you bat your eyelashes. 

Jungkook’s look of surprise is long gone, his eyes sharpening until they’re a quarter of their normal size as he stares you down. The muscles in his jaw clench and the skin of his brow creases, his eyebrows nearly kissing. Your eyes catch the thick vein in his neck pulsing with adrenaline and it makes your thighs tingle.

He laughs incredulously, running a hand through his hair as he tongues his cheek.

“Alright, so we’re doing it this way,” he muses.

In an instant, Jungkook is grabbing your hips and slamming you down into his lap. You gasp and brace yourself on his shoulders. Your reaction brings a satisfied smirk to his face, and you have the urge to roll your eyes again, but then his fingers rake into your hair and he yanks the strands to expose your throat. A needy whine passes through your lips as your neck beckons him to give it attention. He places a single, gentle kiss to your pulse point before leaving you wanting. A second noise of complaint is about to leave you when Jungkook finally starts devouring your neck with his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan quietly. 

Jungkook chuckles melodiously against the wet spots he’s leaving on you. The feeling of his warm breath on your skin forms goosebumps across your arms and sends a shiver straight down your spine. His teeth are maiming your neck as he works diligently to paint you in pretty, purple bruises shaped like his mouth. Once the artwork appears before his eyes, he licks over the mark and kisses it before moving to conquer another spot. 

Meanwhile, your hips spring into action and you start moving in languid circles across his lap. The initial plan is to keep the pressure of your movements teasingly light, but once you feel the apparent bulge forming in his pants, you can’t resist grinding down hard against his clothed cock. 

Jungkook groans responsively and bites into your skin with his canines.

Soon enough, he ceases his assault on your neck so his lips can travel across your shoulder instead. His fingers push your shirt down your arm so he can kiss and lick your skin unimpeached. You moan loudly, the rhythm of your hips picking up in tempo as he seeks out every inch of exposed skin he can.

“Fuck, I could come in my fucking pants, Bams,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop.”

His words only motivate you to push your hips into him harder. He groans again and nods his head approvingly. You agree with him internally, the friction from your underwear rubbing against your clit steadily sending you into a frenzy.

“So good, Koo.”

Jungkook hums and leans back to appreciate the portrait of his lips he’s left on you. His fingertips gently trace over the hickies and he wears a proud smile as he turns your head back and forth to examine his work. 

“You look so pretty, all marked up,” he praises. 

Pushing him down by his shoulders, you grab his face with both hands to kiss him. There’s an electric shock when your lips meet for the first time, but you aren’t sure if it’s only in your head or if he felt it, too. 

The kiss is anything but romantic. Within seconds you’re licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue while his teeth pull at your bottom lip. Jungkook moans and his fingers press down against your scalp. Tilting your head, you kiss him like he’s your only source of oxygen. Your body and mind are in overdrive, your thighs twitching with need and you need his lips to bring you back down to earth. 

He tastes sweet like the cola he was drinking and it makes your head spin. The pretty, pink, doll lips you’ve always admired are magical in the way they move. Jungkook has you trapped between his mouth and the hand on your head, but you don’t mind when he’s kissing you until your mind blanks. 

It's a scramble of fingers and hands as you undress one another as fast as humanly possible. His warm hands brush against your stomach as he lifts your top over your head. You feel his abs beneath your fingers when you tug off his shirt. Jungkook accidentally pinches your skin when unhooking your bra and you don’t even notice, too busy kissing him like your life depends on it.

When Jungkook sees your tits for the first time, he fucking loses it. His head hits the arm of the couch as it falls back, and the growl that comes from deep within his throat is fucking demonic. 

“God, you are so fucking hot,” he declares.

You’re unable to respond because he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, forcing the air from your lungs instantaneously. Jungkook’s tongue circles your nipple a couple times before he sucks the erect nub into his mouth, keeping the same pace with his fingers on your other breast. 

The moans coming from you are unrecognizable in comparison to your normal timbre, and they only grow in volume when Jungkook switches sides and repeats his debilitating ministrations.

Lacing your fingers through his black strands, you pull his face away from your chest to see his eyes. He barely looks like himself anymore, a scorching fire behind his usual soft gaze. The image lights you up inside, and you kiss him again hard enough that he tumbles back into the couch cushions and brings you along with him. 

His hands explore the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, massaging you with his big hands as he traverses across the previously uncharted territory. 

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook,” you tell him as you kiss his jaw. “Everything about you.”

His skin is searing hot and flushed red, the tint going all the way down his neck and chest. You take your time moving across his jawline and throat, sucking just below his ear and letting your tongue trace the perimeter of his earlobe. Descending down his torso, you kiss his collarbones and pecs while digging your nails into his abs, your ample attempt at showing him exactly what you mean by your comment. 

“Need you, Bambi, so fucking bad,” he whines.

The only acknowledgment you give him is by looking up with a devilish smirk before your hands start to unbutton his jeans. You pull them down just enough to reveal his boxers and hold his eye contact while you kiss the fabric covering his cock. Jungkook’s hips twitch and his eyes squeeze shut, an undeniably sexy groan leaving him. Your hands caress his thighs while you mouth at his boxers and you can feel him getting harder with each press of your lips.

He hurries to pull his pants down the rest of the way while you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. When you tease him by letting them snap against his hips, he hisses and you see his Adam's apple bob. His hips buck towards your face desperately, making you snicker at his attempt to create friction. 

“Patience, Koo,” you tease him. Jungkook grits his teeth at your taunt, but only a second later the tension seeps from his body when you reach into his boxers and palm him. “Let’s see if you were exaggerating or not, hmm?”

Once his boxers are gone, you realize he was, in fact, under exaggerating. He knows it, too, because when you glance up, he’s smirking with pride, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. 

“Whaddaya think?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“How about you see how much that pretty mouth of yours can take?” 

One thing about you and Jungkook is you're both competitive as hell, and you’ll be damned if his whole dick isn’t situated down your throat soon just to prove a point.

Gathering spit in your mouth, you lean directly over his hard cock and let it slowly fall from your lips to his head. You wait for the sound of Jungkook moaning before doing it again, this time actually spitting instead of letting it drip down. Your hand gathers the saliva to spread it over his head and down his shaft. Your best friend is panting above you as he studies the way you work his cock with your hand. 

Jungkook is stupid fucking big, and you genuinely fear he’ll split you in half when you fuck. Not only is his dick long, but it’s so thick your fingertips don’t touch when you grasp him. He’s rock hard and throbbing in your hold and there’s a perfect bead of precum just waiting for you to lick. 

When you do, Jungkook cries out in pleasure and it's hands down the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. He’s always been the tough one between you, and having him like puddy in your hands is more satisfying than you care to admit. 

Your tongue flattens over his slit and you groan at the taste of his cum, your mouth already watering at the thought of more coming your way. You lick around his head in one long stroke and then circle your tongue just under the sensitive ridge. Jungkook whines at the feeling of your tongue on his aching dick. Your hand is still using your self-made lubricant to glide up and down his shaft. 

“Bams, fuck,” Jungkook pants the words across staccato exhales. 

It’s nearly impossible for you to say no to the man begging for your mouth, so you finally end your teasing and take him between your lips. You suckle on his head and let more saliva drip down his shaft before removing your hand to focus solely on the movements of your mouth. Your hands hold onto his muscular thighs as you finally take him deeper into your throat.

It definitely takes time for your lips and throat to adjust to his size. Each time you slide down his cock you take more of him into your mouth until your nose hits his pelvis. You breathe through your nose and stay there for a moment, swallowing and moaning around him. 

“Oh, shit.” Jungkook looks down at you in awe, watching in wonder at the way your lips stretch around his cock. “Bambi, holy fucking shit.” 

The chuckle you release sends vibrations around Jungkook’s dick and his hips buck up responsively. You moan again and squeeze his thighs, attempting to send a message that he’s free to repeat the action. He must interpret your message accurately because you feel him forming your hair into a makeshift ponytail and thrusting his hips up. 

Jungkook would never want to hurt you, so even though his body is screaming at him to animalisticaly fuck your mouth, his thrusts are shallow and modest.

Even so, his strokes make you gag every time his tip hits the back of your throat. He’s pulling on your hair and the sensation of being used like a sex toy makes your eyes roll back. Tears form and roll down to meet the drool that’s leaking from your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you suck harder to make a tighter fit for him. He’s appreciative, growling and yanking on your hair as a thank you. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he warns you. Hearing his words, you massage his heavy balls in your hand to push him over the edge. A broken moan comes from above you and his hips start to lose their cadence as his orgasm nears. “Can I… your throat…”

His words are clipped, but you understand and squeeze his thigh to give him permission. Within a single moment you start tasting his cum at the back of your throat. Moaning endlessly at how good he tastes, you move your lips up and down his cock as he comes, swallowing his seed and licking him clean at the same time. 

When you’re certain you’ve stolen every last drop and sucked him dry, you come up for air with a harsh gasp.

“Holy fuck,” you curse and massage your jaw. 

Jungkook grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look at him so he can see that you’re alright. You nod assuredly and sit back on your heels. 

“That was, on God, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jungkook states. 

You laugh and shove his chest, but he snatches your hand and pulls you towards him. He kisses you like he fucking means it, grabbing the side of your face so you can’t move an inch. Your moans meet in each other’s mouths as Jungkook sucks on your tongue to taste himself. 

“Can we move this party to the bedroom?”

Jungkook nods, his hand still caressing your face, before helping you up so you can both head to your room at the back of the apartment. When the door opens, your grey munchkin cat scurries out from behind the door. 

“Oh, Usagi, I forgot you were in there,” you say as she bolts for her scratching post. 

“Probably a good thing,” Jungkook notes, his eyes gesturing down to his dick still on display. 

You chuckle and grab his hand to lead him into the room before shutting the door behind you. He immediately takes a seat on the bed while you stay standing to pull your pants down your legs. 

Jungkook’s eyes trace the movement, his pupils blowing even wider when he sees your black lace panties and the evident wet spot on them. Reaching his hand out, you take it and stand between his legs. Your hands push his hair back, scratching at his scalp to hear the pretty moan that accompanies the movement. 

He leans forward and kisses your abdomen, just above your panties. You sigh as his lips traverse the expanse of your stomach and hips, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake. 

“Koo, need you,” you whimper. 

The feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin of your waist makes you jump, but then he soothes the ache with his tongue. 

“You know, since you made me come already, I’m going to have to fuck you in other ways until I’m ready to go again,” he states. You hum in acknowledgment and he rests his chin against you to gaze upwards. “You gonna be able to handle that, Bams?”

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook scoffs and turns you around, slapping your ass harshly before pulling you down into his lap. You yelp at the sudden change in position, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back makes you melt into his embrace. 

“Do you even know me at all, Bams?” He scoffs again. “How many orgasms have you had in one night before?”

“Like… three?”

“Pussy fucking numbers,” he snaps. “We’re aiming for double digits here.”

“Jungkook!” You look over your shoulder at him in shock, but his facial expression is completely serious. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m really fucking not.” 

“I’ll die.”

Jungkook just shakes his head disapprovingly and licks his lips. He grabs your jaw to turn your head, his hand diving into your hair again to hold you in place so he can ravish your mouth. His kiss has you completely hypnotized and you barely remember the conversation you were just having.

“How about we compromise and aim for five?” He suggests.

You want to kiss him too badly to muster a response, so you just hum in affirmation before turning around and bringing his lips to yours. He pulls you into him as he falls back onto the bed. Your legs return to their position on either side of his muscular thighs, and your lips work earnestly to kiss every inch of his face and jaw until they reach his neck. 

Your clothed cunt grinds over his dick as you mark him with a matching bruise to your own, the friction created by your panties making you groan. You continue to lick and torment the delicate skin of his neck while he guides your movements with his hands. 

All too soon, Jungkook stops you by grabbing your shoulder and you eye him curiously. His eyes flit around the features of your face for a minute. When he smiles in satisfaction, you know he’s got a tantalizing idea for how he’s going to make you come. 

“Sit on my face,” he commands. 

You don’t need to be told twice to get your pussy ate. 

Jungkook moves to the center of the bed and taps his chest to beckon you over. Bending to remove your panties, you look up in surprise when Jungkook halts your actions by grabbing your wrist. 

“How expensive were those?” He asks. 

“$20 maybe.”

“Leave ‘em on, I’ll buy you new ones.”

Sometimes you conveniently forget your best friend is rich until moments like these when he reminds you. 

When you and Jungkook were in college he coded and designed an entire video game in his spare time, because he’s a freaking genius, and then he sold said video game for millions of dollars. Now he works as a lead designer at the biggest video game company in the country and consistently makes six figures. 

Jungkook has a huge dick and an even bigger bank account, and here you thought God made everyone equal.

Shrugging at his instruction, you do as he says and climb onto the bed. As tactfully as possible, you maneuver your legs around Jungkook’s head and sit up on your knees so your core is a few inches above his mouth. His hands hold your hips and he takes the time to trace over your curves while looking up at your pussy slowly soaking the lace of your underwear. 

After several long moments of eager anticipation, he yanks you down by your thighs until the tip of his nose is tickling you. Your head tips back as you sigh, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit through your underwear satiating the craving for his touch. He presses a few chaste kisses to the black fabric as he nuzzles his nose into your cunt to give you more friction. You grip his hair beneath you as he continues to tease you with featherlight touches of his nose and mouth. 

“Koo, don’t,” you beg. 

His only reply is a hum and you feel the vibrations from it against your core. Then he bites at your underwear to give him access to your pussy before licking you from bottom to top. The fabric sinks between your folds as Jungkook’s tongue presses the panties into you and the friction feels unbelievable on your clit. 

Your hand yanks on his hair in appreciation as he continues to eat you out and use your sopping wet panties to pleasure you. 

Once he’s ready for more, his hands move towards your cunt and a loud ripping sound permeates the air. You gasp when you feel him throw your torn panties to the side before forcing your pussy down harder on his face. He collects all the essence you’re leaking with an erotic slurping sound. His tongue slides through your folds and fucks into your hole while his nose continues to apply pressure to your clit.

“Holy shit, Jungkook.”

He laughs against your pussy and slows down just enough so you can hear him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Bams.”

Your free hand claws at the bed frame haphazardly as he eats you like it’s his goddamn job. He kisses your cunt messily, spitting into it and smearing your cum around his face along with his own salvia. His tongue travels up to your clit and the pure, unadulterated pleasure makes you scream. When he flattens the muscle against your sensitive nub you swear you’ll fall over, but his hands on your thighs are still holding you steady above him. 

“Koo, holy fuck.” Your head tips back and your nails bite into the fabric of the headboard. “Make me come, please.”

Jungkook moans responsively beneath you and dives in even deeper, licking you menacingly without reprieve while guiding your hips to ride his face. You take the hint and begin moving your hips on your own, letting your pussy press against all the outlines of his face as his tongue laps up your juices. 

He returns to your clit again and scrapes his teeth against it, causing tears to escape from your waterline as you whimper. Soothing the ache of his bite with his tongue, he slows to a tortuous pace as he kitten licks you for a while. You’re crying continuously now, your hips desperately seeking anything they can get as you move across his face in an erratic rhythm. Jungkook takes pity on you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth before moaning so he can send you right over the edge.

Your hand sinks further into Jungkook’s hair and your nails scratch his scalp as you come all over his face. The bedframe rocks from how hard you’re holding on while your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. Absolute, unbridled euphoria moves through you and makes your eyes roll back. 

Jungkook continues to lick your cunt until you jump from the oversensitivity and move away from his face. You hear a disappointed groan as you crash onto the bed beside him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Bams,” he tells you. “I could do that all fucking night.”

Chest swelling with pride, you’re about to reply when you feel something against your back and frown in confusion. The scratchy material rubs awkwardly against you and you bend away from it to grab it. 

Your soaked, ripped panties dangle from your fingers as you click your tongue and throw them into the trash can. 

“You’re a fucking gremlin,” you note.

Jungkook doesn’t respond to your statement, he just maintains eye contact while moving to kneel before pulling you closer by the waist. The pretty vision of him above you makes your breath hitch. 

His hand travels ostentatiously from your neck all the way down to your hip, lighting an internal fire within you wherever his touch goes. You wait with bated breath as his fingers dance across your skin until they reach your center. Jungkook deliberately teases you, his fingertips just barely touching your clit before moving away again.

You hiss and grab his wrist so his hand can’t move towards your pussy again.

“What?” Jungkook smiles down at you with a tilt of his head. “You’re not ready for more yet? We’re only at one of five, Bambi, we’ve got a lot more work to do.” He twists his hand out of your hold and presses down on your clit. You whimper and silently beg him with your eyes. “Plus, I’m an overachiever, so you know five is really going to be more like seven.”

“Seven?”

“Ilgop.”

“Fuck, don’t speak Korean to me right now. You know how hot it gets me.”

Jungkook giggles, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You smile at the sound and run your fingers through his hair. 

He takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, and you instinctively lean your head away to give him more of you. His lips caress you gently for a while, but then he growls against your throat and grabs your jaw to hold you still. Your gasp settles into a moan and Jungkook takes it as a cue to continue playing with your pussy. His fingers circle your clit and your noises become even needier. He dips into your folds to collect your cum so he can rub over your nerve endings and it nearly expels all the air from your lungs. 

Jungkook  touches you like he’s done it a million times already and that thought alone leaves you breathless. 

“Koo, baby, please,” you whimper in a tone even you don’t recognize. Jungkook’s big, boba eyes are back when he captures your gaze to wordlessly ask what you’re begging him for. “I don’t want to come. I want you.”

A dazzling smile appears on Jungkook’s lips, and a pretty, pink blush spreads across his cheeks and turns the tips of his ears red. 

“Alright, Bambi,” he responds with a peck. “Condom?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for more kisses.

“I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook kisses you again before you can do so yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod against his lips. “Want you raw, Koo.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook chuckles. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Jungkook goes to pump his cock with his hand, but before he has the chance, you bring his palm to your lips and spit into it. He groans, his eyes rolling back, as he reaches down and uses your spit to fuck his hand. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist jerking himself off. It’s honestly mouthwatering to watch his thick cockhead push past his fingers as he gets himself hard again for you. 

He kisses your shoulder and collarbone, then licks up your neck until he reaches your ear. His teeth softly sink into the cartilage. 

“You ready for me, Bams?” 

His deep voice melts your insides into goo and forces your brain into another frequency. Everything is static except for the feeling of his body hovering above yours. 

All you do is nod your head in response to his question.

Jungkook’s tip pushes past your tight circle of nerves and already you feel too full to function. A wanton gasp and whimper follow the intrusion as he slowly enters you for the first time. Your nails create crescents on his shoulders as you inhale through your nose to relieve the pressure in your core.

“Koo… you’re so fucking big,” you whine. 

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. 

He kisses your temple appreciatively. 

By the time his entire cock is deep within your walls, his pelvis pressing against your own, you already feel yourself losing it. Jungkook fills you up completely, and you can barely bring yourself to exhale the air you’re holding in. 

“Fuck, Bambi, are you a virgin or some shit?”

“You know damn well I’m not a virgin,” you grit.

Jungkook groans deeply as his head falls forward and his hair tickles your cheeks when he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Then what the fuck are you so fucking tight for?” 

You loudly hum and pretend to think it over before glancing at him with a sultry tilt of your head.

“I think my pussy’s just that good,” you say. Pulling his face down so it’s only centimeters away, you let your lips brush for a split second before replying. “And it’s all yours, Jungkook. So fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook rears back and ferociously thrusts into you before your next breath can even exit your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

A sinister chuckle comes from your best friend.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Any semblance of control is forcefully taken away when Jungkook grabs your hands and slams them into the mattress above your head. Simultaneously, he begins pumping his cock into you at a disastrous pace and you can’t do anything but incoherently moan. 

There’s no adjustment period, no slow-moving start. Jungkook is already fucking you like a goddamn ragdoll made solely for his pleasure. 

“Koo, oh my fucking God,” you cry. It’s barely been a minute and hot, salty tears are already streaming down your face. 

Jungkook kisses you and his moans filter into your mouth. His grip on your hands is bruising and it makes you whimper pathetically against his lips.  

“Jungkook,” you sob as he abuses your pussy. 

“Shh, shh.” He kisses you gently. “You can take it.” He kisses your cheek and up the side of your face. “I got you, Bams.”

You keen and your hands clasp around Jungkook’s in an effort to protect whatever’s left of your sanity. 

His cock is buried in your pussy but you swear you feel yourself choking on him in your throat. Everytime his tip kisses your cervix you fear being split in two and yet there’s nothing you want more than for him to continue. You want him to rip you in half if it means feeling this full. He’s combining his strokes with a grind of his hips and it makes your cunt greedy for him, sucking him inside and squeezing his cock so he’ll never leave again. 

Jungkook is throbbing and scorching hot inside you and the heat travels from your pussy throughout your entire body, lighting a fire in your bones and between your muscles that only he has the ability to stifle. 

Your senses are amped up to ten and you scream over how deep he’s sending his dick into you. 

The fire escapes externally when Jungkook releases your hands to explore your body instead. They travel down your entire outline until they find your hips and he tilts them upwards to create a new angle. 

“Fuck, I always knew your pussy would feel this good,” he grunts. “You’re a fucking dream.”

The combination of the closer angle and Jungkook’s praises genuinely turns you to ruins, scattering pieces of your soul around and covering them in ivy. You kiss him again even though you know there’s no use, you’re shattered already. You devour his mouth, responding to his compliment through the movement of your lips instead of the words your body can’t produce at the moment. 

Your fingers tilt his head so you can mouth at his sharp jaw, letting your tongue slide across his skin as he growls in your ear. Alternating between biting and kissing, you soak his honey skin in your spit and listen for the moans coming from deep within his chest. 

“You feel so good, Koo,” you whisper into his ear. “Your cock fills me up so fucking well.”

“Shit,” he grunts. Jungkook grabs your thighs and pulls them up higher until you’re practically bent in half, your knees next to his shoulders. “So fucking good. You take me like a fucking champ, Bambi.”

Jungkook slows his pace by a hair, but only so he can thrust into you harder. Each clap of your skin connecting pulls a pornographic moan from your throat. You feel his balls slapping against your ass and the way your bodies are pressing together adds just the right amount of pressure on your clit. 

It makes for a mind boggling combination that has your brain disintegrating into nothingness. 

Your next orgasm is looming just around the corner. It builds inside you like a rollercoaster slowly moving up the track. Jungkook ups his pace again when he feels the telltale signs of your cunt pulsing and tightening around him like a vice. 

“Cream my cock, Bams,” he commands. “C’mon, beautiful.”

A splintering gasp chokes you as you obey and come around his dick, coating his entire shaft in white essence. 

The climax is brain chemistry altering. It feels as though your blood is ablaze and your heart can’t beat fast enough to push it through your body. Your legs clamp around his waist as they shake and convulse from the pleasure. All the while, Jungkook continues fucking his cock into your hole and sending you straight into oversensitivity subspace. 

You’re still catching your breath when you grab Jungkook tightly by the shoulder to halt his movements. He looks at you with curious eyes, but he doesn’t completely stop, just slows down significantly and thrusts shallowly into you.

“Wanna ride you, Koo,” you tell him. “Wanna make you come so you can stuff me and watch it drip out.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, his teeth grinding together. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to bust!”

You laugh mischievously as he grabs you by the waist to flip you both over. Your bodies are only parted for a mere moment before you’re sinking back down onto his dick and scratching at his pecs with your nails. 

“Oh my God, I didn’t think it was possible for you to reach any further inside me,” you note.

“Of course, Bambi, gonna rearrange your fucking guts,” Jungkook proudly states.

It’s disturbing how exciting the thought of that is.

The rhythm of your hips is nowhere near as monstrous, letting his cock slowly leave your cunt before feeling him fill you up again one inch at a time. Using his chest to stabilize yourself, your thighs work religiously to bounce and fuck yourself on him. You look towards the ceiling, a groan rising from your throat due to his thick cock pressing against your walls and hitting just the right spot inside you. 

Jungkook reaches up to play with your tits dangling over his face, massaging them in his big hands before pushing them together. His fingers pinch your nipples until they’re pebbled and stiff. He leans forward to take one into his mouth and you have to grab onto his hair for support. 

He smacks your ass and you yelp, but you understand the message he’s trying to send and pick up the pace. You push him back down and lean over so your hard nipples are pressing against the heat of his chest. 

“Atta girl,” he praises with another stinging slap of his hand on your ass. His digits make a home in your hair again and he uses the leverage to force you to stare into his eyes. “Pussy s’fucking good, Bams.” Jungkook kisses across your neck torturously slow before speaking again. “So fucking tight, warm, wet… could stay in here for-fucking-ever.”

“Koo,” you whisper breathlessly.

Your hips swivel in desperation to send his dick as deep as it can go, honestly hoping your guts do part for him so his cock can nestle permanently inside you. 

“You gonna come again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good,” he speaks into your ear. “Come on my big, fat cock, babygirl.”

The moan you let out is the most humiliating sound to ever come from your body. 

Luckily, no more are able to escape because Jungkook kisses you senseless. His tongue shoves into your mouth and licks around your own as you bounce on him as fast as your thighs will allow. He perpetuates your efforts by grasping your hips and rolling his own against you. It creates the perfect amount of friction on your clit and sends you tumbling into a pool of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

You weep over the intensity of your orgasm while he continues kissing you. Not wanting to lose an ounce of momentum, Jungkook takes over for you as your orgasm paralyzes your mind. 

He fucks you relentlessly to bring about his own climax and the sound of your skin clapping together is so loud you worry it will shake your doorframe and alert the neighbors. 

“Gonna fill you up, Bams,” he warns you. 

He thrusts hard once, twice, sending his cock so deep you swear you see your stomach bulge, and then he grunts and a strangled cry breaks from his lips as he paints your pussy with his cum.

The heat of it makes your eyes roll into your skull.

You kiss him through the come down, slowly traversing across the bottom half of his face and scraping his jaw with your teeth. He moans weakly, the hand still in your hair moving down to your neck and squeezing it affectionately. You make out as he goes flaccid within you, the mixture of your juices slowly dripping out and soaking your thighs. 

Jungkook grabs your ass in both hands and massages the fatty flesh like he owns it, giving you one final spank to tint your skin red in the shape of his hand.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “That was s’fucking good.”

A prideful chuckle meets your ears as Jungkook rests his head against the pillows to gaze up at you. 

“Yeah? Told you we’d have fun,” he brags. 

Lifting yourself off of him, you curse at the sticky mess between your legs. In one motion, you swing your leg over Jungkook’s thighs and fall down next to him with a bounce. You’ll worry about the sheets being drenched in the morning. 

Jungkook grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before holding it against his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

“Thanks for trying something new with me, Bams,” he says sincerely. 

Your eyes meet with twin smiles. Running your fingers through his hair, you tuck a piece behind his ear and lean in to give him a final peck of gratitude. 

It takes a minute for your body to stop screaming at you so you can stand. When you head for the bathroom, Usagi meows angrily from her spot just beyond the door. You coo at her and bend down to scratch under her chin.

“I’m sowwy, baby,” you apologize to the little creature. 

She saunters right past you to hop on the bed and curl up next to Jungkook who’s covering his bare body with your comforter. His eyes light up when he sees her approaching and he bends down to kiss her little head repeatedly until she meows at him to stop. 

You return from the bathroom in a large sleep shirt fresh from the dryer and toss a pair of equally fresh sweats to Jungkook. Both items are originally his, anyway. 

He eyes you knowingly when he clocks the familiar article of clothing. His tongue clicks with a single shake of his head before he’s slipping the pants on and securing them around his hips.

“You want me to sleep on the couch like usual?” He asks with his arms behind his head. 

You scoff affectionately.

“You already look pretty comfortable right there, Koo,” you retort.

“Oh, I am.” He pets Usagi dramatically as she purrs. “And Usagi wants me here, you can’t so no to her!” 

“You’re right, I can’t.”

Jungkook lifts the covers so you can join him in the snuggle puddle he and your cat are partaking in. You make yourself comfortable beneath the sheets and he mirrors you, much to Usagi’s chagrin since she’s sequestered to the foot of the bed to accommodate the extra body. 

It takes you all of thirty seconds to fall asleep once your head hits the pillow, and Jungkook is already halfway into dreamland himself when you do. 

You wake with a pounding headache and unbelievably sore thighs. Groaning at the aches and pains, you leave your bed and attempt to walk normally even though you feel like you got fucked by a semitruck instead of your best friend. It’s a mess of stumbling feet and running into furniture corners as you groggily head to the kitchen for some pain pills. 

Grabbing some for Jungkook after swallowing your own, you head back and set them along with a water bottle on your nightstand for when he wakes up. 

The smell of breakfast must coax Jungkook back into the land of the living because he stumbles out from your bedroom soon after it’s ready. You laugh at the way his hair sticks up in a million directions and his eyes barely open. 

“Morning, sunshine,” you sing-song.

He only greets you with a wave as he heads towards your bathroom. 

When he emerges again he looks slightly more put together, at least, you can see his big, brown eyes again as he makes his way to you.

“Morning,” he says. 

“Brekkie?”

You push a plate of assorted breakfast food towards him before turning around to place your own in the sink. He eats with that lovable scowl on his face which indicates you successfully cooked him a worthwhile meal. 

Neither of you bring up the events which took place last night because you don’t need to, there’s no unspoken tension or uncomfortable vibes floating around. Jungkook was right when he said nothing can come between you, and as fun as it was, now everything just goes back to normal.

It does not stay normal for long.

ONE

Women are beautiful, complex, intricate beings, whose bodies and minds can do extraordinary things. Women can move mountains when they strive to and you’re proud to call yourself one. 

Simultaneously, they can be dumbasses who can’t remember when their last period was. 

While sitting at your desk typing up a bullshit report for some bullshit exec who can’t be bothered to read his own emails, you open the drawer on your left. It houses all your office essentials like pens, tape, paper clips, and tampons. 

Your head tilts as you examine the colorful packaging you haven’t seen in a while. There seems to be a lot of them, especially since you usually run out and have to restock halfway through hell week.

Glancing up at your calendar, you count the weeks backwards and then flip it one month prior to check the exact date. 

You laugh aloud to yourself, because, surely, you just forgot to mark the calendar like you always do and you don’t remember restocking the tampons after your period ended. That must be the case because there’s no way in hell you’re two weeks late. It’s simply an impossibility and abundantly more plausible that your memory is failing you rather than your body. 

The skin of your lower lip is bitten raw as your eyes flit between the calendar and the menstrual products which are both staring into your soul. If they could speak, you think they’d be saying “we know what you did.” 

Pushing away from your desk, you take a deep breath and decide the best course of action is to walk around the office. 

Maybe seeing the inside of a bathroom stall will jog your memory of the last time you were bleeding, or passing by the kitchen will force you to recall when you last grabbed some extra candies from the community bowl. 

It’s all for nought. Your excursion around the building is an utter failure, and suddenly the walls of the office feel as though they’re closing in on you. 

Deciding to head home after lunch because you can’t focus anyway, you stop at the corner store by your house and grip your purse strap to stop your hands from shaking as you enter the women’s health aisle. The hundreds of pregnancy tests glare at you from their place on the shelf and you have to sink your teeth into your battered lower lip again to stop anxious tears from forming. 

This must be some horrible nightmare, you tell yourself. You’re gonna wake up and realize you fell asleep at your desk because your job is just that boring. The sharp pinch you apply to your arm forces you to stop lying to yourself.

Groaning in frustration, you analyze both the brands and prices of the demonic little fortune tellers and choose two each from multiple different brands because you need to be real fucking sure. 

You’re two years shy of thirty and you still feel like you’re having a teen pregnancy scare. 

The woman behind the counter is smiling as she places the tests into a bag. It’s probably because she believes you’ll be ecstatic about a positive result and run straight home to tell your husband. Most women your age would be doing so, but you don’t have a husband, you have a childhood best friend who you decided to hook up with for funsies. 

The abundant traffic you hit on the way home only makes your swirling whirlpool of nerves worse, and by the time you’re unlocking your apartment door and rushing to the bathroom, your lip is bleeding from how much skin you’ve ripped. 

You bought six tests, like a crazy person, and so it takes a couple minutes for you to successfully pee on all of them and place them on the counter with their caps on. Setting your phone timer for three minutes, you sit on the toilet seat to wait the eternity of 180 seconds. 

The anticipation eats away at your insides like sulfuric acid, and your leg bounces forcefully as though you’re going through withdrawal. 

Your mind is somersaulting over itself and flopping on the ground like a fish out of water as you wonder how this is even possible. You’re on birth control, and you checked your pills before leaving work; you didn’t miss a single one. 

There’s always the horror stories about the unlucky .01% of women whose contraceptives fail due to stress or poor health, but you don’t think that applies to you. Sure, you don’t join Jungkook at the gym, and work makes you wanna pull your hair out, but you feel great most days. 

The timer derails your train of thought with an incessant buzz. Glancing at the counter, you reach for one of the tests with shaking hands as you pray for the right result. 

Once you find the courage to actually look, your heart stops, and when you stand to see your plethora of pregnancy tests side by side, your eyes bulge from your skull. 

Staring back at you like the fates themselves are three matching sets of a plus sign, two parallel lines, and the word “pregnant.”

Hands slapping against your mouth, you gasp into your palms as reality forces its way into the bathroom with you. Your eyes squeeze shut as tears break from the confines of your waterline. You shake your head a couple times, trying to get your mind files back into their rightful places. It doesn’t work, and all the papers which make up your consciousness go flying all over the place. 

The cacophony of emotions on top of your disembodied mind forces your senses to scramble and discombobulate. 

You’re scared, worried, sad, confused, and shocked, but somewhere inside you’re happy, too. Being a mom is a huge dream of yours and even if it’s unexpected, it’s still a dream come true. 

Unfortunately, happiness is the lowest emotion on the totem pole, and your negative emotions are much closer to the surface. 

Running your hands down your face, you gaze at the tests as a sob shakes through you. You brace your hands on the counter and allow yourself to cry through all of the emotions. The heavy tears drop into the sink below you one by one as you decide what to do next.

First things first, you have to tell the baby’s father.

“Fuck, he’s gonna fucking kill me.” Tipping your head back to send the loose tears back from whence they came, you blow air from your mouth and close your eyes. “He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna lose his shit and never wanna see me again and I’m gonna —” A sob slices through your windpipe and causes your voice to break. “I’m gonna lose him.”

You hug your knees and let yourself freefall until your butt meets the tile. The floor is cold and your muscles ache from the force of your crash into the ground, but it serves as a momentary distraction from your mental anguish. The sound of your sorrow fills the space as you take heaving breaths and soak your jeans with tears. Usagi scratches at the door and the sound of her little paws calling for you breaks your heart.

Stretching towards the door, you reach and turn the doorknob just enough for it to open. 

You watch fondly as your cat’s little legs carry her to your side. When she reaches you, she jumps into your lap and curls into an adorable ball of love. Fresh tears fall over the sweet affection she’s giving you, and you bend down to kiss her and rub your face in her fur.

“You’re gonna be a big sister, Usagi,” you tell her. 

Eventually, you calm down enough to stand and find your phone. You don’t think you can handle Jungkook’s voice right now, so you text him to come over whenever he’s free. He replies within a few minutes saying he’s got one more meeting and then he’ll be there. You mindlessly stare at his text message as anxiety simmers in your gut. This might just be the one thing that finally comes between you two. 

When Jungkook arrives you’re pacing in a trance around the living room. He unlocks the door with his key and kicks it open since his hands are full with takeout containers. Your eyes threaten to water when you realize he’s bringing you dinner without you asking. 

Your best friend is thoughtful, deliberate, and so, so kind, and here you are about to shatter his world as he knows it.

At the very second his two feet step into your apartment, you scurry across the floor and throw your arms around his neck. He takes an involuntary step back and drops the bags when you barrel into him, a deep chuckle coming from his chest that you feel against your own. 

“Bams?” 

You manhandle the emotions trying to escape back into their cages. You want, no, need, at least one more moment with him as you are now, before everything changes forever.

His arms wrap around you on instinct, one of his hands resting on the back of your head to cradle you closer. 

“Sorry,” you say as you reluctantly let go. “Rough day.”

“Well, I brought kimchi fried rice, so it can’t be that rough,” he jokes. 

You fake a smile and nod in agreement before grabbing one of the containers to bring it to the kitchen. Once he places the second one down, you tap your nails against the countertop and contemplate whether or not to wait. Jungkook, clearly oblivious to your turmoil, is already moving towards the fridge to grab a drink before sitting on the couch. It’s now or never, you suppose.

Each step you take to stand across from him feels like trudging through concrete and the overwhelming anxiety is gnawing at you like a wild animal. The notion that this could be the last time you see him smiling at you or have the ability to hear him laugh is debilitating.

You click your heels once you’re opposite him on the other side of the coffee table. He raises an eyebrow at you in a silent question, but you ignore his confusion and fill your lungs with the charged air.

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't know silence could be so deafening. 

Jungkook’s cola bottle falls from his hands onto the floor with a plastic boing sound. The noise feels inappropriate for the tension of the room. His pupils are shaking as his eyes grow in size exponentially and the skin between his eyebrows creases as his lips part. Even from here you can see his mouth’s run completely dry. 

You take another deep breath, but you aren’t able to stop your emotions from leaking out anymore. 

“And I’m really, really scared,” you say as your voice breaks. 

Jungkook immediately snaps out of his daze when he hears your tone of voice, all of his previously tense features softening as he stands to reach you. 

The next thing you know, his warm hands are caressing your cheeks as he brushes the tears away.

“Hey, hey, Bambi,” he whispers. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” You cry harder at the gentle nature of his voice, like he’s worried he’ll break you if he talks too loud. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, alright? We’ve got each other. That's all that matters.”

“You aren’t mad?” 

“Mad?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “You thought I would be mad at you, Bams?” You nod as best you can with your face caught between his hands. Jungkook frowns deeply. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because… because my birth control fucking failed and now we’re… we’re gonna be parents and —”

“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook interrupts. “I’m the one who creampied you, Bambi.”

“Yeah, but I told you to.”

“Oh, I assure you, I would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”

Despite your current emotional state, you laugh at his explanation. Your tears slowly, but surely, subside after a few more minutes. Gripping his wrists, you remove his hands from your face and hold them instead. 

“I’m still sorry,” you say quietly. 

“Don’t apologize,” he responds, then tilts your chin up. “You’re gonna make me a dad, Bams. That’s nothing to apologize for.”

The sigh of relief you exhale is exuberant. A smile creeps onto your face and Jungkook mirrors the expression before a mischievous grin appears instead. 

He encompasses your waist and lifts you into the air in one swoop, you screech at the sudden movement and koala him to keep yourself from falling. He giggles incessantly as he spins you both around in circles in the middle of your living room. 

“Koo! Put me down!”  

He obeys after a moment, but not before bending his knees to dip you down towards the floor. You squeal until a fit of laughter overtakes you as he slowly brings you both back up to his full height. 

“I’m so happy, Bams, you have no idea,” he tells you wholeheartedly. 

Once the laughter subsides, you inhale fondly and caress his jaw with one of your hands.

“Me, too,” you admit. 

A full blown bunny smile greets you and Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours, making you giggle and blush a rosy pink hue. When your feet are on the earth again, you head for the kitchen, but Jungkook stops you with a hand to your forearm.

“Can I…” Jungkook begins to ask, his eyes glancing towards your stomach. 

“Can you what, Koo?” 

“Can I, ya know, touch?” 

Looking down at your stomach, which is still identical to its normal size, you raise an eyebrow at him, but find yourself nodding yes anyway.

He giggles delightfully and places his palm over your abdomen, where soon enough you’ll have a baby bump. 

“Man, this is fucking awesome.” You find yourself chuckling at his excitement over literally nothing at all yet. “Can I come to your doctor’s appointments?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to go to them without you,” you answer. “I still have to make the first one. I only took the tests a couple hours ago.” 

“Were you alone?” He’s frowning as he asks, regret evident in his tone. 

“Usagi was there.”

Jungkook scoffs, chuckling knowingly as he shakes his head and follows you into the kitchen. 

You eat together as though you didn’t just deliver life alternating news. Which honestly, is the only outcome that ever would’ve come to fruition. Perhaps the staggering emotions of finding out you’re pregnant made you forget just how much you two love and care for each other. Your friendship is backed by nearly three decades of time spent together, and even something as massive as a baby can’t shake that foundation. 

What might shake the foundation of a house is the screams of joy your mothers are going to let out when you tell them. They’ve been begging you for a shared grandchild since you graduated college. 

Jungkook is supportively holding your hand as you two stand on the front porch of your house, which is conveniently down the street from his house, because that’s just how close your parents are. You can’t blame them, you’re sure you and Jungkook will be the same one day, especially now. 

The memories of your childhood are flooding through your mind while you stand in the familiar location. It gets you thinking about all the new memories you’ll make with your own child one day. 

Releasing the tension from your neck, you nod at Jungkook to let him know you’re ready. He returns the gesture and lets go of your hand to knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, it’s his mother’s face who comes into view from the other side of the screen door.

“Oh, Kookie! What are you two doing here?” She asks cheerfully.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” Jungkook asks as he hugs her. 

“Oh, you know I practically live here.”

You laugh, knowing how right she is, and give her a big, bear hug. Her comforting presence always eases your anxieties, especially now when you’re worried about their reaction to your news. 

She guides you through the house as though it’s her own and leads you into the kitchen where your mom is cooking dinner. You greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek as she stirs the pot on the stove. Jungkook follows suit, resting his head on her shoulder as he hugs her side. 

Your mom tells you she’s nearly done and to go sit. She joins you a few minutes later after turning the stove off and removing the food from the heat.

“Seriously, kids, what did you come all this way for?” Jungkook’s mom asks once you’re all sitting around the kitchen table. 

“It’s not that far,” you say. 

“No, but you two never show up unannounced like this,” your mom states. 

“We have something to tell you,” Jungkook says. 

His hand finds yours under the table and gives it a comforting squeeze, out of the eyesight of your mothers. Your petrified eyes flicker towards him, but he just nods and smiles reassuringly at you. You lick your lips and sit up as a way of giving yourself a moment of reprieve before you change the entire atmosphere of the home. 

“I’m pregnant,” you announce. “We’re having a baby.”

“WE?” They scream in unison. 

You instantly lose all their attention. They’re too busy screaming like school girls while clasping their hands together and shaking them in excitement. You and Jungkook share a sideways glance and have to suppress a laugh. 

“When did this happen? How long have you been dating?” Your mom asks.

Both your faces pale at her question, not thinking far enough ahead to prepare for these types of inquiries.

“Um, we’re not,” you tell her. 

“What do you mean, you’re not? How did you get pregnant then?”

Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat and messes with the collar of his shirt as tension fills the room. Never in a million years did you think you’d be talking about your and Jungkook’s sexscapades with your moms. 

“We just hooked up, a one time thing,” you answer. 

“So, you’re not together?” His mom wonders. You both shake your heads, hating the look of disappointment that crosses their features. “Are you gonna try?”

“Maybe… maybe one day, Mom,” Jungkook answers. “But right now we just wanna focus on being the best parents we can be.” 

They reluctantly accept his answer before moving onto all the nitty gritty details like asking when your next appointment is, if you’re going to find out the gender, etc. 

The four of you eat dinner together but unfortunately, your dads are away on a fishing trip together, so you don’t get to tell them the news tonight. Your moms promise to relay their reactions to you through the phone upon their return. 

With your parents out of the way, your friends are up next to bat, but you don’t expect that announcement to go as well as this one. 

Your first gynecologist appointment is the following week, and you and Jungkook both take the day off from work so you can go together. It’s pretty nerve wracking, but you’re mostly excited to see the first ultrasound pictures of your little peanut. 

Jungkook drives you to the appointment in his black Mercedes Benz and it lowkey makes you feel like his knocked up sugar baby. He didn’t grow up with money, so he’s still humble, but he definitely enjoys splurging on his choice of car, if anything. It’s certainly not a bad thing to be having a kid with someone who’s financially well off, but you hate taking advantage of Jungkook’s wealth even when he offers. 

He reverses the car into a parking spot, his arm moving to the headrest behind you as he looks over his shoulder to fit in the space. Upon exiting the car, you come around the hood where Jungkook is waiting for you with his hand out. You take it without a second thought and lace his fingers with yours as you walk into the dauntingly large medical building together. 

Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator as it inches up to the third floor. When the doors open after what feels like an eternity, the office can only be described as a haven for expecting mothers.

Everywhere in sight there are women with swollen bellies of varying degrees, most of them accompanied by their doting partners. As you scan the room, you notice one thing in common with almost all of them; they all have big, shiny rings on their fingers. 

You pout instinctually, green envy coating your insides. It’s not as though you’ve been hunting for a husband, it’s honestly been the last thing on your mind, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t jealous they have spouses and you have a baby daddy. You love Jungkook, more than anything in the world, and there isn’t anyone else you can imagine having a kid with, but it’s not the same as these men and women looking at their pregnant partners like they hung the stars in the sky. 

Jungkook notices your unintentional scowl and tugs on your hand to grab your attention. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shake your head and proceed towards the reception desk. 

“Hi, an appointment under Jeon,” you tell the woman behind the desk. You hear Jungkook make a noise of curiosity from beside you. “Figured we should do everything under the baby’s last name, it’s simpler that way.”

“The baby’s gonna have my last name?” 

His eyes sparkle with wonder and your heart soars.

“Yeah, you’re the dad, Koo.”

“I know, but I thought since we aren’t together —”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s baby Jeon, a hundred percent.” 

He smiles so big his eyes disappear and his bunny teeth make an appearance. You roll your eyes affectionately before turning your attention back to the receptionist as she hands you a clipboard with some paperwork to complete.  

Both of you have to call your respective mothers at one point while filling out the extensive medical history forms. Once the twenty or so pages are complete, Jungkook returns it to the receptionist before joining you again in the waiting room. You sit with identical bouncing knees as the minutes tick by in heavy anticipation.

When your name is finally called, the two of you leap up and hurry over to the nurse who’ll lead you to the observation room.

They take some vitals, draw your blood for the formal pregnancy test, and go over the paperwork, getting the more mundane, administrative details out the way before handing you a gown and instructing you to lay down for the ultrasound. 

Jungkook excitedly rubs his palms together and stomps his feet when the nurse leaves and you get ready to see your baby for the first time. 

Ever the gentleman, he looks everywhere but at you as you strip to put the gown on, which is so adorable you almost combust. He put a baby in you and yet he’s respectful enough to look away when you undress in front of him, what a fucking doll. 

Your feet tap an unknown melody against the stirrups as you wait and Jungkook scrolls on his phone absentmindedly. The doctor alerts you with a short knock before opening the door and popping her head in.

“Hi, you guys,” she greets you. She shakes Jungkook’s hand and then yours before rolling a stool over to sit between your legs. “How are you both doing?”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Good, good,” she smiles. “So, great news, you are indeed pregnant! Based on your hormone levels it looks like you’re about eight weeks along.”

Even though you know the exact date and time your baby was conceived, the sensual moment permanently etched into your memory, and it’s impossible to be anything else besides divine intervention, you still sigh in relief over everything lining up as it should. 

“Before we get to the ultrasound, I just want to go over a couple things that I always do with new parents, alright?” 

“Sure,” you agree with a smile. 

“Okay, we won’t be discussing labor and delivery until you’re a little farther along because there’s a lot to take in at first and it can be pretty overwhelming,” she explains. “I just want to make sure you both are in a good place, have everything you need from me, and availability to any resources you may need during this time.” She looks at you expectantly and you nod your head to convey you understand. “Alright, so tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

You gesture towards Jungkook and he points to his chest with his hand. When you nod, he clears his throat and sits up straighter.

“Hi, Jungkook, she calls me Koo,” he starts. “I’m a head video game designer and have a house just outside the city. I have a Doberman named Bam. I box in my free time… not sure what else you need to know.”

“No, that’s great,” she reassures him. She turns her attention to you.

“I’m Y/N, but he calls me Bambi, and don’t ask, we can’t remember why,” you laugh. “I’m an administrative assistant and rent an apartment in the city and have a munchkin cat named Usagi. In my free time I read, mostly.”

“So, you two don’t live together?” You both shake your heads. “Are you exes, just haven’t moved in together yet, something else?” 

“Best friends,” you tell her. Then, because it’s confusing for most people that you’re pregnant with your best friend’s baby, you continue. “We decided to have some fun one night and now we’re gonna be having fun together for the next 18 years.”

She laughs lightheartedly at your story.

“Alright, I like the sound of that. You’re supposed to be going through this with your best friend, anyway,” she says. “How long have you known one another?”

“I was strapped in a baby carrier to my mom’s chest in the hospital room while she was being born,” Jungkook states.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” you add.

“Well, that’s great, you two! You’ve got a long history together and that can only make for wonderful teamwork.”

There are some more details you discuss regarding the first trimester and the vitamins you’ll be taking. You go over the common symptoms for this time frame and how best to remedy them. Once that’s settled, she finally pulls out the ultrasound machine and you get jittery just from the sight. You’re so eager to see your baby and when Jungkook joins you by your side, he radiates the same energy. He’s sitting to your left now and you bend your arm up to hold his hand. Jungkook smiles at your actions and clasps his hand around yours with a tight squeeze. 

Jumping when you feel the cool gel on your skin, you ignore the novel sensation and wait impatiently for the image of your baby to appear on the monitor. 

Before you see anything, a steady, rhythmic thumping plays throughout the room. 

You and Jungkook gasp in unison.

“And that’s a heartbeat,” the doctor says with a big smile. 

Jungkook rests his head on yours and your free hand wraps around to tousle his hair affectionately. 

The visual on the screen doesn’t make much sense at first, but then the doctor pauses her movements along your abdomen and clicks the keyboard to take some still shots. 

“So, this is your baby,” she says while pointing to the small peanut shape amongst all the black and white fuzziness. “They’re about the size of a kidney bean right now.”

“A kidney bean!” Jungkook cheers. “How flippin’ cute.”

You giggle while glancing back at him. His starry eyes are shining and glossy while he admires the monitor showing him his future child.

“Are you two going to find out the gender? That will happen at your twelve-week follow up.”

“No, we’re gonna keep it a surprise,” you answer. 

“Great choice, it’s always so fun that way.”

She points out a couple more things on the ultrasound before turning the machine off and printing the pictures she took, making sure to print two copies so you and Jungkook can each have one. 

When you peek at him once the doctor leaves so you can get dressed, he’s staring at the photos while his thumb gently traces over the shiny paper right where your baby is. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but keep them under control with a sniffle and scrunch of your nose.

TWO

You have two main friend groups, one which is mutual with Jungkook, consisting of six other guys and three girls besides yourself, and another group of all girls, four of them in addition to you. Sometimes you mix the groups, and they all get along just fine, some better than others, wink wink, but usually you see them on separate occasions. 

Tonight is monthly wine night with your girls, which, of course, you won’t be partaking in, although you plan on faking it. 

You’re unsure about telling your friends just yet. It’s been nice having this sweet little secret just between you and Jungkook, thoroughly enjoying the whispers of excitement you share as you admire your miniature baby bump together. Of course, that enthusiasm is shared between you and your mothers who message you daily for updates. 

The bump forming over your womb isn’t noticeable in the slightest unless you’re wearing something abhorrently tight, and even then, you look bloated at best. So, you can easily get away with hiding your little bundle of joy for a few more weeks. 

It’s a fact the girls will be absolutely ecstatic for you and completely supportive, so it’s not fear holding you back. Maybe judgment? The circumstances of your pregnancy are far from ordinary and you don’t want a lecture from anyone regarding your questionable choices. Your friends adore Jungkook, since they’ve known him as long as they’ve known you, and they’re fully aware of how wonderful he is, but being a friend and being a father are two very different things and it wouldn’t be totally unreasonable for them to have doubts.

Grabbing some wine to pass from the corner store, you drive to Nayeon’s place just up the road. The five of you rotate hosts monthly and tonight is her night. You won’t have the pleasure of hosting again for another four months since your turn was last month. You’re bringing wine along to keep suspicions to a minimum, and you plan on filling your glass with some sparkling grape juice you also snagged. 

When you arrive, Jihyo and Mina are standing by their cars cackling at something on their phones. As you exit and lock your car with a click, you wave and approach the laughing banshees with a smile.

Their faces shine bright when they see you and enthusiastically return the wave.

“Bitch, it’s only been a month and I missed you so fucking much,” Mina cries as she pulls you in for a crippling hug. 

“Are you drunk already?” You question due to her out of character language and how she’s slumping against you.

“Nooo.”

“Don’t worry, I drove her here,” Jihyo, ever the mom friend, assures you. 

You enter Nayeon’s apartment as a trio, her door already unlocked for the occasion, as you update each other on surface level things like work and hobbies. 

Nayeon and Tzuyu are in the kitchen with a glass of wine already in hand while they gossip about something. You know they’re gossiping because their expressions are dramatically shuffling through different emotions like shock, confusion, and disgust. 

They wave excitedly when they notice your entrance and quickly finish their conversation before joining you. 

Jihyo places Mina delicately on the couch and instructs her to stay still so she can grab her a glass of water. You follow Jihyo into the kitchen, peering over your shoulder at your other friend who’s now lackadaisically swaying side to side.

“Ji, why is Mina drunk off her ass right now?” 

Jihyo sighs as she grabs a cup and glances towards the living room to visually check on the topic of your conversation. 

“Her and Mingyu broke up.”

“No!” You gasp, your hands covering your mouth in disbelief. “Did he dump her?”

“She won’t tell me! She just sits on my bed and cries for hours.”

Jihyo and Mina are roommates, but Mina has been hoping to move in with Mingyu for a while now and was merely waiting for him to ask.

“Oh no, my poor girl.”

“I’m hoping tonight will help and maybe she’ll finally open up about what happened,” Jihyo says. “You wanna try my wine?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got my own,” you tell her and show off the bottle of fake alcohol you peeled the label off of. 

She recognizes your answer with a nod before heading back to Mina. By the time you return with her water she’s relaying the information to Nayeon and Tzuyu through tears and slurred sentences. 

You hug Tzuyu from behind and she warmly wraps her arms around your own to reciprocate the affection. After repeating the embrace with Nayeon, you take a seat on her armchair and pour the grape juice into the wine glass she left out for you. 

The five of you update each other like always, since that’s the main purpose of these get-togethers. It’s your sacred time to dive into the messy and dirty details of your lives over the last month.

Mina is unanimously nominated to go first once she’s consumed a couple glasses of water to sober her up a bit. She explains how her and Mingyu, her boyfriend of nearly four years, broke up because he isn’t ready to settle down. Apparently it was mutual, but she’s still head over heels for him and is having a terrible time trying to move on.

The four of you hold her while she cries until eventually, she tires herself out, and you move on to Tzuyu.

The conversation circles through everyone until you’re finally the center of attention. There’s a piece of you that still wants to stow away your secret for a little while longer, but you’re also so excited for them to share in your joy that you can barely stand holding it in.

“Okay, so, technically this happened two wine nights ago, but I wasn’t ready to tell you guys just yet,” you begin. You suck in a breath through your teeth and take a sip of your drink even though there’s no liquid courage in the glass. “Jungkook and I hooked up.”

The gasps from your friends are so loud you think they sucked all the air from the room. 

“No fucking way.”

“I freaking knew it would happen one day!”

“Oh my God?”

“Please tell me he’s got a big dick, I just know he has a big dick.”

You laugh into your glass at the multitude of different reactions before continuing. Sighing in content remembrance, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees.

“He’s. Fucking. Huge.”

Somehow, their gasps this time are even louder. 

“No, no, you need to spill right fucking now. I want every dirty fucking detail, baby,” Nayeon says.

“There honestly isn’t that much to tell. We were watching a movie, he brought it up, it happened, bada-bing bada-boom,” you state.

“Are you two together now?” Jihyo asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “We just wanted to see what it was like, you know?”

“Bitch,” Tzuyu scoffs. “You just told us your ungodly handsome, sweet, filthy rich, jacked as fuck best friend has a huge dick and you’re gonna look at me and say it was a one time thing?”

“You guys know it’s not like that with us,” you respond. “I love him, like, with everything in me, and obviously, I know how attractive he is, but I don’t get butterflies around him or think about him first thing in the morning.” You sit back in the chair. “The love I have for him is so much greater than romantic love. I mean, never say never, but we’re both completely content with the way we are.” 

“Hear hear,” Jihyo says with a clink of her nails against her glass. 

Nibbling on your lip, you count the bubbles floating in your drink as you decide whether or not you’re ready for the actual reveal.

“There is… more, though,” you quietly admit. Everyone leans in and you shake your head back and forth to prepare for the biggest confession you’ll ever make to them. “I’m pregnant.”

The gasps this time are so volatile two of them start coughing and Jihyo walks her ass straight out of the room with a hand over her mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up right now,” Nayeon snaps. 

“He knocked you up?” Mina’s drunk ass shouts. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you… happy about that?” Tzuyu tentatively asks. 

The massive grin forming on your face reveals your answer before you can give it, and you start nodding overdramatically while you giggle. 

“Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” Tzuyu cheers now that she’s aware of your excitement.

“You’re gonna be a mom!” Nayeon claps.

“We’re gonna be aunts!” Mina adds. 

Jihyo returns to the room with fresh tears on her cheeks.

“Ji,” you coo at her. 

She hiccups out a weak chuckle as she pulls you into her for a bear hug. The other girls follow suit and surround you until the five of you are basically cuddling in the middle of Nayeon’s living room. Suddenly, someone starts jumping and the force shakes the floorboards as you all join in and chant “yay yay yay” on repeat. 

The whimsicality of girlhood never fails to paint a smile on your face.

The following weekend you have plans with your other friend group. You usually rotate through a few different activities you all enjoy and tonight is karaoke, which is one of your personal favorites. 

Jungkook gets ready at your place so you can eat dinner together beforehand since the food at the karaoke bar is stupidly overpriced. He never fails to remind you he can afford it and is more than willing to pay for your meal, but you don’t like using his money unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’re a big girl who can pay for herself and he understands your desire for independence.

You’re at the vanity finishing your makeup when he enters with another bowl of rice he grabbed after finishing your meal. He takes up purchase on your bed and eats absentmindedly while his eyes follow the movement of your wrist coating your lashes in mascara.

The feeling of his stare creates goosebumps on your skin and an involuntary smile appears in the mirror. No doubt your foundation hides the blush springing forth as well.

“You look pretty, Bams,” he compliments. 

“Thank you!”

The now empty bowl meets your nightstand with a clank as he moves to stand beside you. He leans down until you’re side by side in the mirror and gives you his cheesiest smile. You snort at his antics and continue to giggle while dropping your mascara into the pile of other makeup tools. 

“Cute,” you tell him. 

He smiles successfully and extends his hands towards you. You graciously accept his offer and stand to your full height. Just as you’re heading for your closet to grab shoes, Jungkook ensnares your wrist and eyes you hopefully. Raising an eyebrow at his actions, you wait for him to speak his mind.

“Can I see it?” 

The eye roll is automatic at this point.

“Koo, my baby bump is not any bigger than it was a few days ago. It’s barely a bump as is! I could eat pasta and grow bigger than I am now,” you tell him.

“It doesn’t matter, I just like knowing they’re in there,” he says with a huge smile. “My little kidney bean.”

“They’re a plum now, remember?” 

Jungkook just stares you down expectantly rather than responding. Begrudgingly, but still with a smile on your face, you push your jacket away so he can see the barely noticeable hump over your abdomen. He giggles, his feet taking turns leaving the floor, and places both hands on you, caressing your womb ever so gently. 

“My little plum,” he sighs happily. 

You're so utterly endeared by him and his nature that it makes you sick. 

Once Jungkook is done holding the little plum, you leave to meet your friends at the karaoke bar. 

Throughout the drive you discuss whether or not to announce the pregnancy to your friends. Jungkook knows you told the girls, and was unnecessarily smug about their interest in his size, but your mutual friends are another animal entirely. 

Everyone met at one point or another during college and by graduation you’d become one massive, conjoined group of lovable idiots. All eleven of you are extremely close, even if the bonds you share are unique to each individual pair. You know things about one another no one else does and they’re always the first people you tell about good news.

Jungkook is more anxious than you about telling them, especially since he’s yet to let the cat out of the bag to anyone besides your parents. He’s the youngest among the boys and his biggest fear is disappointing them. Not that they would be, because even though they're a group of seven men, they’re the kindest people in the world, but Jungkook’s always been sensitive about their opinion of him because he idolizes them so much.

By the time you reach the bar you’ve mutually agreed to hold off for now and proceed to exit the car together. Jungkook instinctively places his hand on your lower back as you walk in and a hostess tells you which room your friends occupy.

Upon opening the door to the private karaoke suite, you’re met by the booming sound of cheers from all nine people packed inside. Everyone rises from their seats to hug you one by one before letting you settle into the couch across from the karaoke machine and mini stage. 

“What are you drinking tonight?” Yunjin asks you as she takes the seat to your right.

Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are already flipping through the songbook next to the stage for the perfect opening song. 

“Can’t, I’m Koo’s designated driver for tonight,” you tell her.

“We’re gonna be here for hours like always, you should have one, at least,” she says.

“Maybe,” you say with an appreciative smile. 

Lying to the people you love most isn’t exactly easy, especially when you already suck at it, but Yunjin seems to take you at your word and returns her focus to the opposite side of the room.

The opening beats of an R&B song fill the air and you turn your attention to the three jackals on stage as they belt their hearts out together. You admire them with a massive grin and are thoroughly impressed by how they manage to make complete fools of themselves while still hitting all the notes. 

The other girls join you sometime during the bridge, Chaewon taking the empty seat by you while Eunchae goes next to Yunjin. Eunchae tells everyone she got a promotion at work, so you clink your glasses together to cheer for her, yours being filled with cola instead of alcohol.

“Here, try my drink, it’s so good!” Chaewon says as she passes the glass to you. You shake your head and tell her the same lie you told Yunjin. Unfortunately, Chaewon is less forgiving than your other friend. “It’s just a sip, girliepop!”

You shoot her a warning glance, and luckily, the two other women are distracted by Namjoon and Jin’s soulful duet on stage. Due to your decade long friendship, you and Chaewon share the unique ability to speak without any words, and your silent conversation goes something like this.

You, glaring at her with your head tilted. Don’t.

Her, sitting back a little with her eyebrows raised. Bitch?

You, nodding minutely a couple times. Yup.

Her, eyes wide with a hand on her chest. You’re pregnant?

You, nodding while staring her down. Can you fucking believe it?

Her, brow creasing and slowly shaking her head. Who the fuck is the dad?

You, holding up a hand to block the view from the others while pointing at Jungkook who’s sitting across the room. Jungkook.

Her, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging out of her head. You’re fucking joking! 

So, that’s how Chaewon finds out, and your final signal to her is your pointer finger pressing against your lips so she knows this is still a massive secret.

Jungkook and Taehyung take the stage next, and they’re always an entertaining pair, so you both pay close attention. It’s debatable whether that was a good decision, because the rest of you end up with aching cramps from the intense fits of laughter. You're all desperately clutching your stomachs as the two of them jump around and sing in each other’s faces to a song that does not call for that type of choreography. You’re 99% sure it’s a breakup song from a K-Drama. 

You’re still wiping the tears from your eyes when Eunchae speaks up breathlessly.

“God, I don’t know why, but this reminds me of when the boys performed in the university talent show,” she states.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that,” Yunjin responds.

“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Jimin says as he sits next to Yunjin.

“Don’t you remember? You guys wore those hockey jerseys and covered that 90s song,” you tell him. “It was so good!”

Jin nods from the other side of the couch and starts laughing as he remembers the performance.

“That was so long ago! I remember it being super fun, though,” he says.

“Please don’t bring that up, that was the most embarrassing day of my life,” Yoongi groans.

“Oh please, Min, you secretly loved it,” Chaewon teases him.

You gasp when you realize it’s definitely still stored somewhere in your phone. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you scoot over so Jungkook can sit next to you while you scroll through your camera roll from almost ten years ago. Taehyung joins you and leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to see as well. 

“Found it!” You squeal.

Unable to resist reliving the memory, everyone gathers behind you to watch. Your previous fits of laughter make a gnarly comeback as you marvel at the younger versions of them dancing and singing their little hearts out. They look like babies in comparison and it makes you swoon.

“That was literally another lifetime,” Namjoon says once the video is done playing.

“Man, we were so fucking cool,” Hoseok states proudly.

“Jungkook, you should wear your hair like that again,” Yunjin says. “You looked fucking hot.”

“Fuck yeah he did, rumor has it Kook lost his virginity that night,” Taehyung jokes as he squeezes Jungkook’s bicep.

“Yo! Shut the hell up, I lost my virginity in high school,” Jungkook retorts. He takes a swig of his drink and chuckles against the glass. “It was the first time I fucked raw, though.”

“Clearly not the last,” you say under your breath.

Jungkook turns to you with his eyes bugging out and you have to stifle your laugh with your hand. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you gain control of your laughter and whisper a halfhearted apology to him. 

“Ok, girlies, let’s fuck this shit up,” Chaewon annonces. 

Yunjin and Eunchae both chug the last of their drinks before grabbing each of your hands so you can take the stage together. You diligently flip through the songbook to find the perfect one while the guys converse about a recent video game release. Gasping when you spot a familiar song title, you point to the page and eye the girls with a mischievous smirk.

“Wait, don’t we know the dance for this?” Yunjin asks.

You and Eunchae nod together. 

“Oh, we are gonna leave these men fucking gagged,” Chaewon states before plugging the selection into the karaoke machine. 

Chaewon hits the nail on the head, because as soon as the song begins and you start shaking your asses like a bonafide girl group, the men go insane. The seven of them act like they’re your biggest stans who paid for a ticket just to see this. 

Hoseok and Jimin stand to the right of the stage throwing invisible money over you all, while Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting on the end couch spanking the air back and forth. Yoongi is covering his eyes with his hand while he shakes his head, but he’s still peeking at your performance between his fingers. Namjoon is bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin like he’s trying to analyze the way your asses bounce. Jin stands with a glass in each hand as he dances along and screams your names in a repeating chant at the top of his lungs. 

When you finish the show stopping performance, all of them are almost as breathless as you from cheering so much. 

“Fuck, why am I hard right now?”

“That was spectacular.”

“You guys were so good!”

“I think I just came.”

“Amazing, bravo.”

“Encore!”

“Remind me why we’re all just friends?”

All four of you are panting as you hop off the stage and attempt to slow your racing heartbeats. Jimin notices you don’t have a drink and goes to hand his glass of vodka cranberry to you.

“Here, you look like you could use this.”

Just as you’re about to wave him off and reject his offer, Chaewon interrupts. 

“Y/N can’t have alcohol,” she states. 

Eyes blowing wide, you glare and wordlessly scold her with your facial expressions, throwing your hands up incredulously for good measure. Poor Jungkook looks like a deer in headlights since you didn’t get the chance to tell him she knows.

“Why not?” Yoongi asks from across the table.

“Are you okay? Nothing’s wrong, right?” Yunjin adds.

“No, no,” you answer with a nonchalant wave of your hand. “Just this new medication I’m on.”

“Which one? Prenatal vitamins?” Eunchae jokes as she takes a drink. Your lip catches between your teeth as you look at her with wide, worrisome eyes. Her expression shifts into shock when she notices your face over the rim of her glass. “Holy fuck, I was joking. Y/N, are you pregnant?”

“Um… yes?” 

The eight people in the room who weren’t previously aware inhale simultaneously to berate you with questions, but are all stopped short by Taehyung speaking first.

“Who the fuck put a baby in you?” 

Gnawing on your lip as your mind scrambles for an answer, your eyes flit to Jungkook for support, but his face is paler than a ghost. You reluctantly accept your fate and sigh in defeat. 

“J… Ju… Jungkook did.”

All hell breaks loose. 

You’re fighting off Eunchae, Yunjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok with your hands up in surrender as you vigorously shake your head back and forth. Jungkook is slowly sinking into his seat with his arms out in defense as Jimin, Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi descend on him like a pack of ravenous wolves. Everyone’s screaming voices are louder than any of the singing tonight and if someone took a picture of the room it could only be classified as a goddamn renaissance painting.

Once the initial shock wears off and Jungkook finally comes to his senses, he shakes his head to collect his thoughts and stands up.

“Everyone, shut the fuck up! My bun is in that oven and I don’t need you assholes stunting their growth with your screaming,” he shouts. 

“Oh, please don’t refer to me as an oven, Koo,” you grimace.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Bams.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Hey!” Eunchae interrupts you. “Lovebirds, you wanna fucking tell us how you got knocked up?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. 

“Well, Eunnie, you see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very mu — AH!”

Jungkook’s mock explanation is cut short by him ducking to avoid the couch pillow Eunchae chucks at his head. 

“Be fucking for real, Jeon. Why is your demon spawn in my best friend?” 

“Hey, don’t talk about our little plum like that,” Jungkook frowns. 

“Little plum?” Jimin and Taehyung speak in unison. 

Jungkook sighs dreamily before responding. 

“That’s how big they are right now.”

“It just happened!” You state. “We just fucked for shits and gigs and now we’re here.”

“You let Jungkook come in you for shits and gigs?” Hoseok asks with his signature face of judgement.

The implications of his tone make you pout and cross your arms over your chest.

“Yes, and it was very enjoyable, thank you very much.”

“Oh, ew.”

“For real?”

“Ah, fuck no.”

Chaewon fake gags with a finger in her mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon steps into the center of the room. “How is this gonna work? Are you two gonna co-parent? Switch off houses every other week?”

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly before looking at Jungkook. He shrugs with his arms out, clearly just as clueless about those details as you. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Are you gonna find out the gender?” Chaewon asks excitedly, but you quickly shake your head and she frowns. “How am I supposed to get my future niece or nephew the perfect gift if I don’t know their gender?”

“Gender neutral?” You suggest. 

You hear Jin exhale overdramatically and when you look towards him he’s downing a shot and slamming the glass down afterwards. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He shakes his head and his lips make a horse-like noise. “I mean, we’re talking about Jungkook and Y/N having a baby… a motherfucking child.”

“Yeah, and they’re gonna be the best parents ever,” Yoongi states wholeheartedly. 

Yoongi finds your eyes across the room, his adorable gummy smile on full display, and reaffirms his words with a nod. You return the smile gratefully, thanking him with a slow blink as you hold his eye contact. 

“Are you alright? I mean, like, you’re good?” Yunjin asks you. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, especially now that you guys know.”

“What about you, Kook?” Taehyung asks from where he sits beside him. 

Jungkook looks over his shoulder at his friend, the biggest, bunniest grin imaginable on his face.

“I’m fucking ecstatic,” he answers. 

Jimin takes two large strides and hugs Jungkook’s head to his chest, ruffling his hair affectionately. Hoseok joins in next, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks between his hands and giving him adorable fish lips.

“Our Jungkookie is gonna be a dad!” Hoseok coos in his best baby voice. 

Your attention is pulled away by Yunjin’s hand on your lower back. She smiles when you turn around and pulls you into a powerful embrace which you reciprocate. Eunchae and Chaewon join the hug and you rest your head on Chaewon’s shoulder. You know how hard she is on herself whenever she screws up, and this is your way of letting her know it’s alright.

When you part, you feel a tug on your hand, and before you know it Jungkook is bringing you into his lap. You giggle as he tucks you into his chest and nuzzles his face in your neck. 

There’s a brief moment where it feels as though it’s just you and him, and it’s more needed than you even realized. Jungkook’s recognizably warm presence calming you down after the hectic atmosphere of the room took you for a loop.

Everyone moseys around to take a seat as the adrenaline from the news simmers. The eleven of you actually do some catching up rather than just singing and drinking, and eventually smaller faction conversations happen all around the table.  

You stay on Jungkook’s lap the rest of the night with his hand resting on the outside of your thigh to keep you against him.

It’s abnormal behavior for you two, usually keeping a rather firm boundary of friendship, the time you conceived a child together aside, but you don’t question it. Maybe it’s the child in your womb wanting to be close to their father or perhaps the uptick in hormones skewing your regular emotional landscape. Either way, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your weight on him and neither do you. 

By the time the clock strikes two in the morning, and you’ve all gone a couple more rounds on the karaoke machine, your head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder as you flicker in and out of consciousness. He soothingly rubs your spine with his hand, making sure to add more pressure to your lower back where it’s been hurting ever since becoming pregnant. Curling into him more in response, you push your face into his neck and hum contently at the familiar scent and warmth. 

“You tired, Bams?” He whispers to you, moving some hair away from your face. You answer with a single nod, your eyes already closing again from the heaviness of sleep. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jungkook helps you stand, and you hug all your friends goodbye one by one. Everyone congratulates you both again while also threatening to show up to your homes univinted unless you update them on your progress between hangouts.

Jimin changes your group chat name that very night to: Baby Jeon Official Updates Channel 💦🤭👶🏻💕

You and Jungkook leave hand-in-hand, mostly because he has to keep you upright from how tired you are. He drives back to his place since it’s closer and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you alone when you’re this sleepy. God forbid you accidentally fall asleep on Usagi and crush her all night long. The car ride is brief, but it’s smooth enough that you fall asleep in the passenger seat almost instantly. 

Jungkook carries you inside instead of waking you up, knowing you need more rest nowadays than usual. Although, if he’s being honest, pregnant with his child or not, he’d still carry you and tuck you into bed.

When you wake up in Jungkook’s spare bedroom/home office the next morning, you’re thoroughly confused, but as your sleepiness begins to wane you remember the end of the night and the events which led you here. The smell of pancakes encourages you to walk down the stairs to Jungkook’s kitchen. You’re still wrapped in his comforter when you enter and Jungkook laughs as you approach him like the Queen of bedtime. 

“Morning, Bambi,” he greets you as he flips the final pancake onto the plate and turns off the griddle. 

“Good morning,” you say with a tired smile. 

Just then, the sound of trampling paws comes barreling towards you. Smiling broadly as you turn towards the sound, you bend down to greet the adorable Doberman who’s wagging his tail in excitement at seeing you.

“Bammie!” You cheer as you pet behind his ears. “Oh, I’ve missed you, my good boy.” 

He runs around your legs a couple times before scurrying across the hardwood to bring you a bone to throw. You happily oblige him and watch in amusement as he runs away to fetch it before plopping on the couch to gnaw on the toy.

“Come eat, Bams,” Jungkook tells you as he sets two plates on his dining table. 

Following his orders, you leave the comforter over the back of the couch and sit across from him to eat the eggs, pancakes, and bacon he made for you both. You eat in comfortable silence for a while until you’re both nearly done.

“Koo, I’m sorry about last night. Chaewon guessed it and then her big mouth spilled the beans. I know it wasn’t the way we wanted it to happen, but at least it’s over with, right?” 

“It’s alright,” Jungkook responds before gulping down his orange juice. “I’m glad we finally did it and now everyone knows. Plus, it got me thinking about some stuff I hadn’t really thought about yet.”

“Like what?”

“Well, about what Namjoon hyung said,” he explains. “I mean, he makes a really good point. I want our kid to have a normal family life even if we’re just best friends and not romantic partners.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I think you should move in with me.”

You choke on your orange juice. 

Truthfully, there isn’t anything shocking about his statement, you just weren’t expecting it at that moment. Jungkook has a three bedroom, two and a half bath house which he owns, while you rent a one bedroom apartment. He’s been begging you ever since he bought the property to move into his spare bedroom. The two of you spend almost all your time together anyway and he doesn’t see the point in you wasting money on rent when his house is completely paid off. 

The reason you haven’t accepted his offer before is because you never want to take advantage of his wealth or be a burden on him. Being best friends is one thing, being roommates is another. 

Now, though, you have a biological right to be a burden on him because he stuck a baby in you. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

“Of course I am,” he replies in a heartbeat. “I thought about it all last night and it only makes sense. I have two extra bedrooms, one for you and one for the baby.” 

“But what about your home office and your gym?”

“I can move my gym equipment to the garage and my desk can easily fit in my bedroom.” You sigh and push your fork around your plate as you contemplate his proposal. “Bams, you’re gonna be the mother of my child, will you just let me take care of you for once?”

As soon as you look into his starry eyes, you know there’s no chance you’ll say no. Jungkook obviously wants to do this because he loves you and wants to make sure you and the baby have everything you need, so who are you to say no?

“Okay,” you agree. “When should I move in?”

THREE

The cardboard box in your hands is slowly slipping from your grasp as you ascend the stairs, but you’re determined to make it to the top before readjusting. You have to reach the landing before Jungkook catches you. If he sees you disobeying his instruction of sitting still, he’ll definitely blow a gasket. 

You don’t know what it is with men and thinking pregnant women can’t do anything themselves. It’s still only the first trimester, and sure, your bump has grown some more, but you aren’t completely useless. 

Honestly, if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve taken his offer of moving all the boxes into the house by himself, but your competitive nature has you lugging a box of cat toys up the stairs instead. 

“Bambi! What did I fucking say?”

Dropping the box by your feet only three steps from the top, you blow your hair away from your face and place your hands on your hips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook. I do what I want.”

“You wanna look me in the eyes when you say that?” 

“… No.”

“That’s what I thought.” The sound of his combat boots coming up the stairs is all you hear as he moves to steal the box from your feet. Once it’s secure in his arms, he looks at you like a teacher scolding their student and gestures to the couch with his head. “Go sit down.”

“I’m not incapable, you know?” You say with your arms crossed. 

“I know that, Bams,” Jungkook states. “It’s not about that. I lift more than this in a single workout at the gym. Why should you have to do it when I’m perfectly capable?”

He’s right. You know that, he knows that, so you leave him alone on the steps to sit down on the couch with a huff. 

Bam quickly joins you and lays his head in your lap as he watches his dad move back and forth through the house with curious eyes. Scratching behind his ear, you laugh at the way his tail repeatedly whacks the couch as it wags. 

Usagi is still in her carrier in your new bedroom since you want to make sure everything is moved in before introducing her and Bam. You and Jungkook both agree that if they get in a fight, it’s her little munchkin ass who will be the main aggressor, especially since Bam is scared of his own shadow. 

Once Jungkook’s done moving the last of the boxes, he flops aggressively into the armchair next to the couch. He pats his thigh and Bam instantly leaves your side to jump into his lap instead. Jungkook leans down to kiss his precious pup before letting his head fall back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Perfectly capable, huh?” 

“Shut up.”

“You’re getting old, Koo. Soon you’re gonna be a dad and you’ll have a beer gut —”

“Nuh uh, never gonna happen. I’ll have my abs until the day I die,” he corrects you.

“Please, no you will not. You think you’re gonna be hitting the gym at 80?” You ask as you lean forward in your seat.

“Yes. My love comes from my abs, I can’t lose them,” he states.

The couch cushion indents where your head falls against it as you laugh heartily. 

“What? Your love comes from your abs? What the hell does that even mean?” 

“Everyone I meet loves my abs, so now they’re just like, full of love, and that’s where it comes from,” he explains unironically.

“Everyone? I don’t think that’s true,” you say with a smirk.

“No?” Jungkook gently guides Bam away and struts over to you. “You’re gonna look at me and tell me you don’t love my abs? That if I took my shirt off right now you wouldn’t go all googly-eyed?”

“Fuck, no,” you scoff. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and then lifts his shirt to engulf you under the fabric. You screech and shove at his waist, kicking your legs haphazardly like you’re being suffocated. 

“Let me out of here!” You scream, but it’s severely muffled by the fabric. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you,” Jungkook teases. “Ow!”

Jungkook immediately frees you and backs away after he feels your teeth sinking into his side. He rubs over the bite mark with a big pout on his face, as if he didn’t start this little charade. 

You mock his expression for a moment before standing to go up the stairs and check on your furry child. Jungkook follows begrudgingly, letting his feet drag along the floor like a petulant child. When you enter your new bedroom, conveniently right beside Jungkook’s, Usagi starts meowing incessantly and scratching at her carrier. You soothe her with some baby speak and check that the door is closed before letting her out. Her little legs immediately bring her to the floor so she can explore the unfamiliar room. 

She meows every couple of seconds whenever she encounters something new and you watch as she headbutts everything in sight as a way of marking the furniture with her scent. Ironically, this is all the same furniture from your old bedroom just in a different space and formation.

Hands wrap around your waist from behind and you sigh at the feeling of Jungkook’s firm chest meeting your back. Obviously, he’s forgiven you for your little retaliatory love bite. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Bams,” he tells you from where his head rests on your shoulder. 

Your hand reaches behind you to sneak into his hair and scratch at his scalp affectionately. He hums and rests his cheek against your shoulder. You’d argue he picked up the mannerisms from his dog, but he’s always been touchy like this.  

“I’m happy to be here,” you reply. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Those words no longer apply the following day when you’re hunched over Jungkook’s toilet and spilling your guts into the bowl. 

It’s a great unknown why morning sickness is called that when it happens at all hours of the freaking day. You naively believed you snuck past its clutches since you’re already on the brink of your second trimester, but apparently the wonderful symptom was just waiting until you had Jungkook’s big fancy bathroom to throw up in. 

Groaning in agony, you plop back onto the tile and rest your head on the cabinet. Your throat is burning from all the regurgitation, there are popped blood vessels all over your cheeks and forehead, making you look like you have freckles, and salty tears from the effort of repeatedly emptying your stomach are drying on your skin. 

You caress your baby bump with a glare, making a mental note to scold them at least once when they’re older for putting you through this. 

The sound of the front door opening makes your ears twitch. Bam’s heavy footsteps can be heard barreling towards the door and then Jungkook’s voice joins in as he greets his beloved pet. 

“Bambi?”

“In here,” you say through your sore vocal chords. Jungkook’s face appears in the doorway and you whimper as tears fill your eyes again. “I fucking hate you for doing this to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your current state and he instantly sinks to his knees to pull you into his arms. He holds your head against his chest as you cry from the pain and fatigue of running back and forth to the bathroom all day. Jungkook’s been out running errands all day so you’ve been all alone until now.

“I’m sorry, Bams,” he whispers into your hair. “Wish it was me instead.”

There’s no opportunity for you to reply because the familiar feeling of bile climbing up your throat forces you out of his embrace and back over the toilet. Jungkook grabs your hair, making sure to collect the shorter pieces that cradle your face, and holds it in a makeshift ponytail as he rubs your back. 

Once you’re done, and after the sound of the toilet flushing disperses, you hear soft cries coming from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeve. 

“Koo,” you call out to him. 

He hiccups and attempts a brave face, smiling at you even as tears slip from his waterline.

“Sorry, you know I hate seeing you in pain,” he explains. 

You frown and turn around to grab his cheeks, brushing the remaining tears away from them. It’s true you’re already well aware of his empathetic nature and have been for as long as you’ve known him. 

“I know,” you say with a smile as you push his hair away from his face. “Remember that time I got bullied in middle school and was crying on the playground, and then you started crying because I was?” Jungkook laughs, his eyes closing as he remembers the moment. “I’ll never forget what you said.” You clear your throat so you can give an accurate representation of his voice. “I never suffer myself, Bambi, I only suffer when I see you suffering.” 

Jungkook smiles big and laughs again at your adorable imitation of his deep timbre. 

“You know, if we have a boy, I’m gonna have to tussle with him over this,” he says. “No one hurts my Bams, not even my own kid.”

Your responding chuckle is strained due to how sore your body is. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring Jungkook closer for a tight hug, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. His palm slowly moves up and down your spine in a steady cadence to soothe you until the next wave of nausea comes. 

The remainder of the day is spent in the bathroom together, which is luckily spacious enough for not only you two, but Usagi and Bam who both come to join you at one point.

The nausea comes in waves, sometimes occurring multiple times back to back or alternatively with a large lapse of time between them. It holds you hostage in the bathroom for a few days, and you have to take PTO when the work week begins, but eventually the symptoms simmer to about once every couple days after your doctor prescribes medication. 

Another lovely symptom you’re experiencing as of late is intense cravings for extremely specific food groups, which is why you’re currently in a screaming match with Jungkook over pickles. 

“I’m not buying you pickles, Bambi,” Jungkook sternly states.

“Jungkook, you’re not the one growing a baby inside of you. If I say I want pickles, I should be getting pickles!” You shout, your feet stomping on the ground reactively. 

“You fucking hate pickles!” Jungkook matches your tone.

“Yes, but pregnancy cravings don’t care about what I like or don’t like, and they’re saying they want pickles!”

“You’re not going to eat them, Bams, I know you!”

“Yes, I will!”

“You really want me to leave the house at three in the morning for a vegetable that you despise?” Jungkook scoffs in outrage. “You won’t even eat a sandwich if a pickle was on the plate because you claim you can still taste it!” 

“That doesn’t matter, Koo!”

Jungkook groans and runs his hands down his face before pushing his hair back. 

“I swear to God, Bambi, if I get back here, and you don’t eat that entire fucking jar, I will kick you out of this goddamn house!” 

“No, you won’t, you love me too much,” you brag and stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, unfortunately, I do,” Jungkook admits angrily. He grumbles to himself the entire time he’s putting on his slides and slipping on his jacket to drive to the nearest 24 hour convenience store. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns back to say one final comment. “You know what the worst part about this is? Most guys in my position are at least getting some pussy for putting up with this shit, but not me! No reward! I’m doing this out of pure, unconditional love for you!” 

You gawk at his remark, not recognizing the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook has never in his life asked for anything in return, let alone imply you owe him a sexual favor.

The door slams shut before you can respond, and a cry breaks from your chest as your head falls forward. Bam hears the noise and comes to comfort you, nudging his head up against your leg like the good boy he is, but barely a minute later, his head jerks when he’s distracted by the sound of the door opening. You don’t even get the chance to look up completely before you’re forced into someone’s arms who smells a lot like Jungkook.

“Bams, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Jungkook tells you. 

His apology only makes you cry more, shoving your face into his shirt and soaking it with tears. 

“That was so fucked up, Koo,” you sniffle. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean it, okay? You don’t owe me anything, Bams, especially not that.” He pulls away from you and lifts your face by your chin. “Please don’t think that I, even for a second, ever expect you to repay me for taking care of you. I do it because I love you and that’s the only reward I need.” 

Wiping your tears with your shirtsleeve, you slap his chest a couple times for good measure. He chuckles because of how lightly you smack him.

“You’re forgiven,” you grumble. “Now, can you please go get me these fuckass pickles?”

Jungkook smiles and nods his head, his hand on your chin moving to caress your hair for a moment. 

“I’ll buy you pickles everyday for the rest of your life if that’s what you want, Bambi,” he states. 

“It isn’t. I fucking hate pickles,” you say with a smile. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your hair before waving goodbye and heading to the store. When he returns twenty minutes later, he’s carrying a couple bags of miscellaneous groceries as well as a jar of pickles. 

You wait patiently for him to place the bags in the kitchen before he hands the open jar to you. The smell alone eases the craving that’s been eating away at your stomach for hours now. Grabbing one of the skewers, you pull it out of the juice and take a small bite off the end. 

Instantly, your brain screams at you in disgust, and you open your mouth again to spit the piece into your hand. Realizing you now have to face Jungkook so he can say I told you so, your eyes screw shut and you turn towards him. Except, when you open your eyes, he isn’t beside you anymore, he’s walking back from the kitchen with your favorite flavor of chips in hand.

“Got these just in case,” he tells you as he swaps out the jar in your hand for the bag. 

You grimace, guilt pooling in your stomach when you realize his trip out into the night was for nought. 

“Koo…”

“It’s alright, Bambi. The fact that I was right makes this all worth it,” he says with a sly grin. 

The chips taste like salty pieces of heaven and you eat the entire bag that night. You keep the jar of pickles for occasional sniffing because, for whatever reason, your brain loves the smell even though it hates the taste. This pregnancy is already messing with your brain chemistry more than you care to admit and it’s only the beginning. 

As the weeks go on, your pregnancy continues to mess with you in the form of a different, but equally as strong, craving. 

It initially hits you while you’re putting together Usagi’s new cat tower in the living room. Thankfully, she and Bam get along just fine. In fact, she’s currently lying on him while they nap together on the other side of the room. 

The instructions for this contraption are annoyingly hard to understand and you’re holding the instructional pamphlet up in the air as you attempt to make out what size screw you need in the stupidly small font it’s written in. 

The sound of the door opening catches your attention. As you lower the paper to see the familiar figure entering the room, your mouth suddenly dries up. 

Jungkook’s coming back from his home gym which is now in the garage and the tips of his hair are drenched in sweat. His chest is rising and falling in deep pants from the intensity of his workout and the black shirt he’s wearing sticks to his chest, perfectly outlining his pecs. Then, much to your agony, he takes the bottom of his shirt and wipes it across his forehead, giving you a perfect view of his abs. 

The feeling that shoots straight into your core is absolutely foreign. Sure, you know Jungkook is hot, that’s a fact of the universe no one is trying to deny. But you’ve seen him shirtless before, hell, you’ve seen him entirely naked. The bump protruding from your womb tells you that much, and yet you’ve never felt turned on by him doing something so mundane.

It makes you question why your body, and more particularly your pussy, is suddenly insatiable and the sight of him is making drool drip from your mouth where it’s fallen open in awe of his physique. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice your change in demeanor as he waves hello before heading upstairs to shower. Once he’s gone, your body releases its tension and you sigh in relief. Although, the feeling doesn’t entirely go away, and you end up spending the rest of the evening uncomfortably horny. 

That very night you take matters into your own hands, literally. You haven’t masturbated since getting pregnant, not for any particular reason other than just not feeling the urge, but now the urge has you in a chokehold and you need to fix it. 

Closing your eyes and slinking comfortably into your sheets, you pull your shorts and panties off in one go before trailing your hand down to your core. You’re still wet from earlier, no doubt because you saw Jungkook in all his post workout glory. The image of him wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt is still on your mind when your fingers dip between your folds. 

A quiet moan escapes as you move your leaking essence around with your fingertips. It’s been more than three months since you’ve felt any sort of sexual pleasure, the night you spent with Jungkook being the last time. 

Your eyes roll as you play with yourself by switching between pushing your fingers into your cunt and circling your clit. The squelching sound helps to turn you on, but the entire time all you can think is that it isn’t enough. It barely scratches the surface of your sexual need and is a sorry excuse for pleasure after what you Jungkook made you feel. 

Huffing in frustration, you shut your eyes again and try to forget about the world around you, but it’s only when you think back to earlier today that your pleasure spikes and you moan again. 

Realizing what the trick is, you begrudgingly let your imagination, or more so your memory, run rampant. You think back to that night and the way Jungkook’s lips felt against yours, and the way his cock penetrated you so deep you were seeing stars. The memory of his deep voice in your ear makes you moan exuberantly. Your hand falls into a quick rhythm as all the memories come flooding back. Everything about that night sends you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His weight above you, the heat of his skin, his taste, his moans and grunts, the way he fills you up. All of it forces you to bite down on your fist and cry when your orgasm overwhelms you.

The aftershocks of your pleasure have you panting as you come down from the high. You feel immense relief now that your desire is satiated after a long day of feeling your thighs twitch. Pulling your hand away, you stand to wash your hands so you can finally get some rest. 

Hopefully, this symptom will eventually disappear like the others and you won’t be riddled with sexual cravings through the entirety of your pregnancy. 

The next morning you’re pouring yourself a cup of tea to drink before heading to work. Jungkook comes skipping down the stairs in his business casual attire, his sleeves partially rolled up to reveal his tattoos. You wave to him and push the cup of coffee you poured for him across the counter.

“Thanks, Bams,” he says with a squeeze to your arm. 

This is the normal, everyday occurrence for you now, and it’s nice having a routine that works for you both. You didn’t realize how easy living together would be and you’re glad it’s finally happening. Besides the times your pregnancy has turned into a sick, desperate, crazy person, it’s been business as usual for you two even with the adjustment of being roommates. 

“You gonna be home for dinner?” You ask him as he takes a sip of the drink. His brow creases and he looks adorably angry, letting you know you made it just right. 

“Yeah, the deadline for the newest patch was last week so I shouldn’t be staying late,” he answers. 

“I’m making your favorite, your mom sent me the recipe last week,” you tell him.

“No shit,” he says, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. You nod in confirmation and he enthusiastically claps his hands. There’s a brief lull in the conversation, but then Jungkook seemingly remembers something and grabs your attention. “Actually, there's something I was gonna talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” Leaning over the counter, you take a sip and wait for him to speak.

“Well, I may or may not have heard you last night and —”

The sound of you choking and spitting out your tea interrupts him. 

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you, ya know, having a little fun all by your lonesome last night.” You stare at him incredulously across the island. “Surprise, surprise, the wall between our rooms isn’t that thick.” 

“Koo, why are you bringing this up?” You ask. “I mean, thanks for letting me know, I guess?”

“No, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not saying it to embarrass you or anything, Bambi.” He mirrors your stance so your faces are only a few inches apart. “I was just going to offer my services in case you need something more than your own hand.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just, I mean, I’m only a room away, and I know your hormones are probably going awol and making you needy and shit. So, if you ever want to, the option is there.”

“Koo, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m not gonna use you like that.”

“Oh, yeah, because having sex with you is such a chore. Worst night of my fucking life!” You laugh and slap his arm playfully. He stands to his full height with a wink. “Just think about it, alright?”

You do think about it. Unfortunately, it’s all you can think about. It already freaked you out enough when you couldn’t get yourself off without thinking of him, and now your body is mentally somersaulting in celebration because of his offer. 

It’s definitely not romantic feelings swirling inside you, because just as you told your friends, you don’t feel butterflies with Jungkook, but it’d be both impractical and impossible to deny you have sexual feelings for him. Whether it’s from pregnancy hormones or something else entirely, you clearly want him something awful. Greed they talked about in the bible type shit. 

The only thing you don’t want is for him to fuck you because he’s trying to help you out. If you’re going to hook up again, you want him to want you in the same way. 

Despite the mental turmoil it initially puts you through, time goes on without either of you bringing up his little offer. Your body still messes with you by making you horny at all hours of the day, but you usually just satisfy yourself before bed and all is good. 

Tonight is different. No matter how hard you try you can’t bring yourself to come. Your fingers are pruny from how long you’ve been playing with yourself, but nothing is working. It’s nearly two in the morning, and although it’s a weekend, you still want some sleep. 

Grunting and kicking your blankets away, you cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness of your room. The quiet atmosphere of the house is helpful for lulling you to sleep, but your thighs are twitching with need and you know you’ll be restless if you don’t fix it before going to bed. You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, chewing your lip as you debate if you’re really about to do what you’re thinking of doing. Before you can overthink it any further, you stand up and throw your door open. 

Usagi makes a noise of confusion from her bed in the corner of your room, so you whisper to her you’ll be right back and shut the door. 

It takes you a minimum of five minutes to gather the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door. He was working late tonight on a new project and went to bed early to catch up on his sleep. Guilt pools in your stomach at the thought of waking him up for such a selfish reason, but you know he’ll scold you if he finds out you needed him without telling him as such.

The sound of your hand against the wood feels extra loud in the stark silence of the house, and it only takes a couple seconds for Jungkook to softly call for you from inside the room. 

You twist the door knob and peek your head inside. Jungkook only has one eye open, and he’s fluffing his messy hair in confusion when you enter his room. 

“Bambi? Is everything okay?” He asks sleepily. 

“Mmhmm,” you say as you chew on your lip. “I, um…”

The embarrassment stirring within you is almost enough to bring your morning sickness back with a vengeance. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I… need you,” you whisper. 

Jungkook sits up, his other eye finally opening, although they’re still half-lidded with sleep. 

“Need me how, Bams? Are you alright?”

“Like… sexually,” you finally answer.

His eyes open a little wider at your response, but soon enough his expression softens and he smiles warmly. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, his hand gesturing for you to join him. 

You tentatively place one foot in front of the other until you reach the edge of his mattress and climb in. He holds his hand out for you and once you’re close enough he grabs your waist to help you straddle his thighs. 

As soon as you feel him beneath you and his chest against your own, the tension in your body disintegrates and the relief sends your forehead to his shoulder. Jungkook reacts instinctively, one hand scratching your scalp while the other rubs your back, and you whimper from comforting sensations.

“Tell me what you need, babygirl.”

“I don’t know. Nothing’s working and I… I just need relief,” you explain. 

“Okay, do you want my hands or my mouth?” 

You shake your head.

“You, Koo. Want you.”

Jungkook hums and combs his fingers through your hair, the hand on your back rising to cradle your face instead.

“You’ve got me, Bambi. I’ll give you anything you want.” You feel him mouthing at your jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. “Every part of me,” he whispers ardently.

After a prolonged moment of gentle neck kisses, Jungkook takes your hips in his hands to lift you and pull your bottoms down before moving his own pants out of the way. You hear the sound of him pumping his cock to get himself hard, but you’re too busy returning his favor by caressing his neck with your lips to see the motion yourself. The firm touch of his hand on your lower back guides you into the right position atop his lap. You sink down slowly, with Jungkook holding you steady as he fills you inch by delicious inch. The wetness from your earlier attempts at self pleasure allows him to slide into you with ease. 

You moan unabashedly at the feeling of his thick cock inside you again, it’s warm and throbbing within your walls and you kiss the bare skin of his shoulder appreciatively. He feels like pure heaven and it’s worrisome how desperately you wish you could stay like this forever. 

“Koo, you feel so good,” you moan into his ear.

While you begin kissing his neck again, Jungkook starts bouncing you up and down on his cock via his hold on your hips. The euphoric feeling the action creates must be mutual, because a pair of vibrant moans and the clapping of your skin is the only sound in the room. His noises are deeper than normal since he’s still fresh from slumber and the low tone makes your head spin. 

When you eventually take over and pick up the pace, one of his hands leaves your hip to thread into your hair. 

“Missed this, Bams,” he tells you sincerely. “You feel fucking perfect around me.”

Jungkook brings your face close so he can kiss you. He’s gentle with his affection, lips moving at a snail’s pace to savor the feeling of kissing you once again. Tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, you moan gratefully when he pushes it past the border of your lips to meet yours. Your arms encircle his neck as you shamelessly make out, pulling him impossibly close so his bare chest is pressing on you. 

“So tight, Bams, feels fucking amazing.”

“Mm, it’s just for you. Pussy’s all yours, Koo.”

Jungkook groans aggressively and kisses you with a new wave of passion. His fingers dig into your scalp reactively and you whine, your thighs working overtime to fuck his cock into you again and again. The dual sensation of his kiss and his dick splitting you apart rattles your brain until all you can focus on are your movements. 

When he notices your pace stuttering from your impending climax, he steals control again, wrapping both arms around your waist to steady you while he thrusts into you from below. You gasp and bite into the skin of his shoulder as he fucks you with everything he has. 

It’s no surprise your orgasm approaches faster than usual, since you were already worked up from your previous ministrations. You welcome the familiar feeling of your abdomen and thighs tightening as Jungkook continues pistoning into you, kissing him again when you feel yourself tipping over the precipice. Running your fingers through his hair and tugging on the black strands, you pull a grunt from his lips that only serves to further your pursuit. 

“M’close,” you breathe into his mouth. 

“Come for me, Bams,” he replies without missing a beat.

The tip of his cock only meets your g-spot a couple more times before you come with a throaty moan, your head tipping back as Jungkook continues to fuck you through your high. His hips slow to a stop as your body relaxes and breathing levels out, so you question him with a glance. 

“What are you doing?”

“You came, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“I’m not the one with pregnancy hormones,” he chuckles.

Your hands move from his hair to caress his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “This is a two way street, Koo. You’re not a sex toy, I didn’t come in here just for me.”

Jungkook smiles sweet as pie and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I know, Bambi,” he says. “But honestly, I think we should both get some sleep. Why don’t you stay in here with me and we can pick this up again in the morning?”

You frown, but begrudgingly agree when you notice how tired Jungkook looks. 

After pulling out, Jungkook readjusts your bottoms back to your hips before tucking himself into his pants. He cuddles into his sheets with one arm resting against the pillow next to him. Gesturing with his head towards his outstretched limb, you happily take the hint and lay your head on his tatted bicep. 

Cuddling with Jungkook is foreign, but the man himself is so familiar that it’s not awkward despite it being the first time. Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist to bring you into his chest, and it’s shocking just how wonderful it feels to be entirely encapsulated by him. You hum appreciatively as comfort seeps into your very bones and makes a home in your nervous system. Without thinking, you start tracing over his collarbones with your fingertips and he kisses your cheek and temple. 

You both fall asleep with ease, your quiet breaths tangling together in the limited space between your faces. 

When you wake up, Jungkook is behind you, but his arm is still draped across your waist and your head remains comfortably on his bicep. You smile without realizing and cuddle deeper into his embrace, lacing your fingers with the ones resting on your stomach. 

Your view upon looking down is just your intertwined hands above your small baby bump and your smile grows exponentially, your heart squeezing in your chest at the sight of all three of you together this way. 

The sentimental moment is brief, because soon enough you recognize the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pressing against your ass and desire begins banging on your door and demanding you let it in. As any good human in your position should, you nonchalantly wiggle your ass and snicker to yourself when you feel his cock stiffening. The sound of Jungkook languidly groaning behind you lights a fire inside your stomach that blazes down to your thighs. 

His hand squeezes yours and you feel him nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Morning,” he murmurs in your ear.

“Morning wood, more like it,” you reply.

Jungkook chuckles warmly in your ear and it spreads goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. He releases your hand to grab your hip instead, pulling you into him so you can feel exactly how hard he is. Your exhale becomes a moan when he ruts against your ass and his hand leaves your hip to reach your folds. 

The second his fingers slip beneath your panties and touch your warm cunt, your mind goes to static.

“Shit, Bams, you’re fucking soaked,” he notes.

“I’ve been wet for the past two weeks straight,” you admit.

“You should’ve told me,” Jungkook says as he licks and nibbles on your earlobe. “Would’ve taken care of you.”

You whine when he starts sucking on your neck just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. 

“Yeah,” you moan. “I’m understanding how grave a mistake that was now.” 

He laughs again before returning to his previous endeavor of kissing and licking your throat. His fingers move in and out of you lackadaisically, slowly stretching your hole open as he curls the digits against your front wall to reach that perfect spongy spot. You find yourself gripping his forearm to keep yourself steady as the pleasure threatens to pull you under its waves. 

Once Jungkook deems you wet enough, he removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to your mouth for you to lick clean. As you work your tongue around and between his two middle fingers you hear the rustling of pants behind you. Even though the last time was mere hours ago, your heart is already racing at the thought of him stuffing you full again. 

Jungkook runs his dick through your folds and presses the tip against your leaking hole, making your essence coat his head with a pretty sheen. You moan reactively, your head meeting his shoulder while his cock stretches your velvet walls. 

The fingers previously between your lips dig into the flesh of your waist as he starts rocking into you from behind. He’s doing all the work, simultaneously pulling your hips back while he thrusts into your cunt mercilessly. You’re thankful for his diligence, because your mind is going haywire from the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the veins of his cock rubbing along your walls. It’d be impossible for you to assist him with anything in this state. 

He’s still worshipping your neck with his mouth while fucking you like an animal and the contradicting feeling forces your eyes into your skull.

“You’re so fucking tight, Bams. So wet… you’re making me fucking crazy.” His warm breath on your neck makes you keen. 

“More, Koo, I need more of you,” you reply.

Jungkook hears you loud and clear. He holds your waist with both arms to keep you snug against him so he can thrust into you with more force, his pace speeding up in conjecture with the extra effort. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Jungkook.”

“Yeah? This what you wanted?”

“Fuck, yes, you’re so fucking big, Koo,” you whine.

He relentlessly fucks into your cunt, rolling his hips against your ass and sending his cock straight to your g-spot. Your nails make crescent moons on his arm where you’re still holding on for dear life. The other hand stretches before you to clutch the sheets like a vice for fear you’ll lose your mind if you don’t have something in your grasp. 

The melody of your moans and his grunts are downright pornagraphic and serves as filthy music to your ears. There’s nothing you want more than for him to continue fucking you, and if you could keep him buried in your cunt for all eternity, you would gladly do so. 

“You close?” He asks as he bites your ear. 

“Yes.”

“Good, gonna make a mess of you, Bambi.”

The erotic combination of words, tickling breaths, his firm chest behind you, and the massive cock spreading your pussy apart have you going institutionally insane. Somehow, he manages to gain more speed as your orgasms near and the imminent release makes you scream. It’s barely a second later that you’re coming with a pathetic cry of his name. He follows immediately, his cum marking your walls as his own while he repeatedly fucks his seed into you. 

His hips never cease their movement even once your highs wane, he just continues rolling into your cunt while his cock softens inside of you. You whimper from the oversensitivity, but even the uncomfortable pressure doesn’t make you stop him. The feeling of having him within you is too addicting to let it end just yet. 

Eventually, he stops lazily fucking you, but even then he still doesn’t pull out. You hold the position until sleep brings you both back into its embrace, Jungkook’s arms securely around you while the dripping mixture of your essences pools on the bed below.

Taglist: @lovingkoalaface @starcandybby @junniesoleilkth @keylime4eva @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @spideyjimin @jjeonjjk7 @joonlover1207 @annpeachy @rexana19 @heartwith0uthe @kosmos1307 @minyoongi7016 @magicalnachocreator @misschelliejeon @bubblyi3 @bhonbhon @polnaraffsrack @amarawayne @majesticjung-97 @kmpj9 @upo1313 @songbyeonkim @kikikaaa @glowjuli @avawants2havefun @hyeinwluv85s @someonegoood @kyljjk

The Second Trimester coming on 6/27/25 at 7:00 pm EST

[daddyjackfrost]

Wanna Be Yours ; B. Barnes

Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought

Pairing: Avengers!Bucky x Avengers!F!Reader 

Synopsis: Bucky’s been in love with you for longer than he’ll admit. But when a moment of clarity after a misunderstanding on his part cracks the tension between you wide open, he finally gets to show you just how much.

Warnings: Fluff, minor angst, minor hurt/comfort, bucky yearns like a mf, brief misunderstandings, insecurities, friends to lovers, ft. the avengers & friends, sam being sam, minor jealousy, pining, SMUT, minor romanogers (not sorry), cursing, Bucky’s sort of shy and awkward (at first), praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, MDNI, pussy pronouns, mutual obsession, kissing, switch energy, soft!dom bucky, begging, gentle possessiveness, religious imagery, oral (f and m rec), riding / WC: 7.7k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! This was meant to be short…a drabble…but then I started to listen to Hozier and well…yeah. Title inspired by I wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys. 

Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever met someone like you.

He’s told himself it’s because you’re kind. Because you don’t flinch when he walks into a room, because you laugh at all his dry one-liners, because you bring him coffee without asking and leave notes that say “don’t forget to eat after training” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

But, the truth is, he likes the way you exist. The way you fill space with warmth without trying. The way you somehow make him feel like he’s part of this new world, that he can exist here too. 

With you. 

He doesn’t know when it started—not exactly. 

There wasn’t a single moment where the light shifted or the heavens parted. No slow-motion entrance, no dramatic realization. 

But somewhere between your half-sleepy smiles over morning coffee and the way you laugh at his dry sarcasm like it’s the best thing you've heard all day—he fell.

Hard.  

Somewhere between the early morning training sessions and the late night chamomile tea, his heart grew, both in size and fonder, and it became an innate feeling—the love—the want. It became embedded into his bones, in his DNA. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

And maybe it was always going to happen. Maybe it was inevitable. Because you’re the only one who never looked at him like a ghost of something broken, like he still had to search far and wide for the man he became. You don’t flinch when his fingers twitch or treat him like a ticking time bomb, or a relic, or worse—an object of pity. 

You treat him like he’s just…Bucky. Someone who deserves kindness, a friend. 

You bring his favourite kind of bagels without asking. You mock his grumpy scowls and tease him into smiling. You sit with him in silence and don’t try to fix the quiet. You seem to enjoy it with him—understand.

You once fell asleep with your head on his shoulder during a movie night, and he thought he might die from how carefully he held his breath, afraid of waking you. 

He wants you—so badly it aches.

But he’s never said anything, never dared. Not when being your friend already feels like more than he deserves. 

He gets to see you every day and that should be enough—it never is.

Tony announces it during a briefing: an Avengers Gala. Hosted at the Tower. Black tie. Heroes and allies from across the globe. Sponsored by Stark Industries and curated, of course, by Pepper. 

Bucky half listens, frowning, until you perk up beside him.

“Oh, fancy,” you murmur, nuding him with your elbow, capturing his attention, though it had always been yours. “You gonna wear a tux, Barnes?” 

He smirks faintly, something easy and familiar and yours. “Only if it comes with a hidden holster.” 

You snort, hiding part of your face when Pepper’s eyes meet yours. “As if you need a hidden holster to hide a gun. Don’t you have three somewhere on you right now?”

Bucky shrugs, lips lifting into something brighter, simply because you’re right. “Guilty.” 

You roll your eyes and blink innocently at Pepper, pretending that your attention isn’t on the man beside you. Bucky’s eyes soften into something stupid and he leans further back in the chair, pressing his arm against yours. 

You giggle and lean in close to whisper something snarky about Tony’s need for dramatics, and he feels your breath against his neck—he swallows hard. 

You turn back to the front, eyes falling on the screen, none the wiser. 

Bucky spends the rest of the meeting barely hearing a thing. 

Later that night, after you bid him goodnight, he lingers by the window of the communal lounge, half-lost in thought as city lights blur beyond the glass. 

Steve finds him like that—arms folded, jaw tense, quiet in the way only Steve knows means he’s thinking about you—something beautiful yet horrid about himself. 

“You should ask her,” Steve says softly. 

Bucky exhales, having heard Steve’s light footsteps and seeing his reflection. “It’s not that simple.” 

Steve shrugs, stepping up beside him. “Sure it is. You like her. She likes you.” 

Bucky exhales louder. “She doesn’t—”

“She does,” Steve interrupts, nuding Bucky with his shoulder. “Trust me.”

Bucky huffs a tired laugh. He would trust Steve with his life—with more, but not with this. Not when his blonde friend couldn’t see Natasha’s feelings for him. “And what? Ruin this? She’s the best thing in my life. If she says no—” 

“She won’t.” Steve gives him a look, one Bucky thinks he wore many, many years ago, back when he would Steve in alleys. “You think she touches everyone like that? Laughs like that?” 

Steve crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow. “Do you honestly think she looks at anyone else the way she looks at you?” 

Bucky doesn’t answer, just shoves Steve back with his shoulder lightly. Part of him wants to believe it, like there’s a world where you like him—love him, the way he loves you. Wants to care for him the way he wants to care for you. 

But, the other part of him, the one that often wins, is scared—scared he’ll ruin everything, that he might see the flicker of pity in your eyes. The last thing Bucky wants is for you to think that his feelings for you, his honest adoration for you comes from anything except his care, his heart. 

He loves you, but you were his friend first. He’ll always be your friend, even if he aches for more.

Steve lays a hand on his shoulder, something warm and solid. “Even if I’m wrong, I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Buck. A few weeks, and it’ll be past you.” 

Bucky hums like he agrees, but he’s not sure. He doesn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, or feel like you aren’t safe with him. Because he cares—so much. He’d rather live in silence and the brief touches then make you feel like your friendship isn’t enough for him.

Because, God, it is. It’s everything to him, a root in his heart that’s grown into branches and leaves.

Still, that night, he lies awake for hours, hand resting over his chest, heart thudding too loudly. 

I’ll ask her tomorrow, he thinks. I will. 

He almost does. 

He finds you in the lounge the next evening, curled up with a book and a half-drunk coffee. You’re wearing one of those soft hoodies that always make you look impossibly cozy, socked feet tucked beneath you. 

He steels himself, breathes in deeply—thinks back to the lines he said over and over to himself in his bedroom. 

Then he hears it. 

“I don’t even have a date for this thing,” you’re saying to Sam, voice light and faintly exasperated. There’s something there, something familiar, something he hears in his own voice sometimes when he talks about you but he can’t register it, can’t pinpoint it. 

You shut your book with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly? I’m kinda glad. No one to impress, no pressure.”

Sam snorts and swats your feet away, pretending to shuffle back when you inch your toes closer to him. “I’ll take you.” 

You raise a brow, legs stretched weirdly. “You?” 

Sam grins, lets out a quiet laugh. “No need to look so surprised.” He shrugs, “Come on. Low expectations. No romance. Plus, I look good in a suit.” 

You tilt your head, hum thoughtfully. Sam spreads his arm, putting himself on display. “Deal. You’re my date.” 

You clink mugs, laughing. 

Bucky stops in his tracks, his stomach twists and he can’t breathe. 

He doesn’t hear the teasing edge, he hasn’t been good at noticing these things. He doesn’t see the subtle glance Sam casts toward the hallway, like he knows Bucky’s there. Doesn’t realize this is Sam’s own way of pushing him. 

No—he just hears the words. You’re my date. 

And something in him goes quiet. 

It’s quick, the way everything inside him shuts down and he almost sags against the wall. Like the wind has been knocked out of him. He’s breathing hard���but at least he’s breathing. He shuffles back, quietly, hiding in the shadows. 

He’s fine—he would have been fine if you had said no to him, if you had told him that someone else had asked—but Sam?

Momentarily, very briefly, something akin to anger—jealousy—flickers in his chest, loud and bright and instantly, it's put out, dies quickly until the ashes spread across his chest. He hears you laugh, soft, carefree, and his heart settles. 

He’d do anything for you, for that laugh. 

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, the jealousy he’d never admit to and the question on his lips and turns, walks down the hall and tosses the single rose into the trash.

He gets you flowers often, whatever he passes by on his runs that he thinks you would like, might brighten your floor, but he’s never gotten you roses. 

It was a line he drew for himself. 

He glances at the folded rose and sighs. 

The line gets thicker. 

The gala is a blur of silk and glass and lights that glitter like champagne bubbles. 

Every year, Bucky swears that Pepper has outdone herself. And every year, she proves that she’ll always have more up her sleeve. 

Bucky wears a classic black tux. His hairs slicked back, neat, and beard trimmed. He looks sharp, clean, polished. But inside, he feels like he’s unraveling. 

Because you walk in and you look—

“Jesus,” he breathes, barely audible. 

You’re radiant, glowing and beautiful—perfect. Your dress, a deep purple, hugs you in all the right places, glittering like stardust with every step. He tries to think back to you mentioning the dress at all, but all he can remember is the way you winked at him. 

Your smile could bring a man to his knees. 

He knows, because he’s halfway there, legs weak. And all he can think is, I was going to ask her. 

I could have had this. 

He looks away, blinks a few times to remind himself of his place. If he’s caught gawking at you—well, he knows what would happen. 

He keeps to the shadows most of the night, nursing a glass of whiskey, tucked into the quiet corners. He mingles briefly, making sure to be polite, to be seen. Tony put a lot of effort into this, made sure that it curated to all of them, the least he could do was make his appreciation shown. 

But you? You’re a firecracker on the floor, bright and loud and so fucking radiant. Laughing, twirling, dancing with Clint, with Nat, with whoever grabs your hand. You’re drinking and smiling—magnetic. 

But your eyes—they’re fleeting, looking for something, someone. 

Bucky can’t look away. 

Until you find him. 

You corner him outside on the balcony, where the air is cool and quieter and he can breathe. 

“There you are,” you say, hand on your hip. “Avoiding me?” 

Bucky’s throat goes dry. He’s leaning on the railing and tilts his head towards you, resisting the urge to turn completely. “No. Just needed some air.” 

He can’t look at you—not your eyes or your dress or your smile. It’s blinding, too much. He just needs one day—one day and he’ll be fine, one day and his heart will settle, make peace with you and Sam. 

You take a step closer, head tilting in that curious way that always makes his heart soften. 

His eyes flick up. There it is—that sharp breath he always seems to take when he sees you.

You smile at him softly, lay your hands on the railing next to his. “You gonna ask me to dance” 

He blinks. Then, slowly, pushes himself off the railing, turns his whole body to face you properly. The muscles in his face smooth out and his shoulders drop, relaxed. 

“I should be the one asking you that,” he murmurs, so softly, delicate. 

Your grin tugs wider. “So ask me, then.” 

He swallows, eyes flickering between yours before he offers his hand. “May I have this dance?” 

You take it. 

The music is warm, old jazz bleeding through the speakers as bucky pulls you onto the floor. His hand is strong at your back, the other gentle at your waist. He moves like he was born to this—measured, smooth, leading you without hesitation. 

You’re laughing, a bright smile on your lips as your eyes shine. You spin, twirl, your head tilts back as he draws you close. 

“You’re good at this,” you breathe. 

Bucky leans in, lips near your temple. “Used to be the only way to get a girl to notice me.” 

You turn into him, mouth brushing his ear. “Now I know you’re lying. Steve told me you were quite the heartthrob.” 

Bucky laughs, low and deep. Your eyes flutter shut and you hold onto him tighter. He’s so warm, so solid under your hands. Your eyes meet his and you notice that the smile on his lips—while small—is the most genuine one you’ve seen on him tonight. 

“Not anymore,” Bucky says, quietly, his body guiding yours. 

“Debatable,” you answer, giving him an exaggerated glance over. “You clean up nice, Buck.” 

He tilts his head towards you, almost bashful. You breathe out a quiet laugh, soft, but it awakens something in him and he lifts his eyes to meet yours. 

Blue—electric, so deep and filled with so many unspoken things. 

“You look beautiful,” he tells you, earnest and soft. 

People have been complimenting you all night, but you only really cared about one—his. His words settle something in your chest and you smile, gloss shining under the glittering lights. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” 

He swallows, steps in line with you. His eyes glance around the room once and he frowns. 

“Where’s your date?”

You raise an eyebrow and scrunch up your nose in thought. “Date? What Date—Oh. You mean Sam?” 

Bucky’s jaw tightens and he nods, looks away when your eyes search his. You find what you’re looking for and duck your head to hide your smile, biting your bottom lip. 

You lift your head and meet his stormy eyes, a gentle smile on your lips. “He wasn’t really my date. We just came together. He immediately disappeared.” 

You look away, search the crowd until your eyes land on Sam’s familiar figure and the beautiful woman he’s flirting with. You laugh quietly, shake your head at his antics. 

Bucky’s staring at you like you’ve just stabbed him in the back.

You both sway in time, the world shrinking until it’s only the two of you. 

You lean in, pressing close. “I wish you’d asked me to the gala.” 

Your words were nothing more than a whisper, quiet, melting into the music and noise, but they were honest. As soon as Tony had introduced the idea, your heart had been set on going with Bucky. He looked at you once during the debrief—like he was trying to imprint you into memory—it gave you hope, something light and soft igniting in your chest. 

But then hours passed, a day. It was approaching fast and you had slowly made peace with the idea that he wasn’t going to ask, that he didn’t see you the way you saw him—whole, permanent—a part of your DNA. 

So, when Sam asked, you said yes. Simply to have someone there, an arm to hold.

But you had looked for Bucky all night, saved the best dance for him. 

It didn’t stop the want, though—it burned behind your fingertips, deep behind your eyes. So you let it slip, the quiet admission. “I was hoping you would.” 

His heart stops and he tenses—eyes wide. 

Before he can respond, someone whisks you away—Steve, grinning as he twirls you into the next number. 

Bucky stands there, stunned. He knows how he looks—gaping, eyes wide, heart stuttering wildly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter look over, concerned. He waves away the concern and walks off the dance floor, finds a seat he knows is taken, and readjusts his tie. 

Everything inside him feels tight, like his own fist is closing around his organs. Your words ring in his ears and he has half a mind to pour some water in his ear, just to drown out your voice. 

He watches as you dance with Steve, bright smile on both your faces. A drink appears in front of his face and he grabs it, mutters a quick thanks and tips it back, enjoying the burn, if just to get his mind off what he could have had if he had just not been a coward.

Sam finds him a few moments later, sipping something sweet with a mint leaf. He takes the seat next to him, leans back. 

“You looked good out there,” he says, nodding toward the dance floor. 

Bucky glances down at his empty glass before he places it on the table. “Why’d you ask her?” 

Sam shrugs, his smirk softening. “Figured if I make you jealous enough, you’d finally make a move.” 

Bucky tips his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. Of course, he thinks. It was such a Sam idea, so childish and filmy. Suddenly, Peter’s look makes more sense. He huffs, throws him an annoyed look. 

“I was going to. I had it all planned out. Then, well…” 

Sam slowly nods, smile twisting into understanding.

“She said yes to me.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky doesn’t mean to sound so defeated, he just can’t help it. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not even a big deal. He knows—now—that Sam has no romantic interest in you and you didn’t seem to have any for him. 

But, like most things of the heart often do, it felt like the end of the world. Like his life would have been so much better if he had walked in with you, his arm supporting you—his cologne surrounding you. 

“Why didn’t you ask her sooner, Buck?” Sam’s voice is quiet as he leans in a bit, wanting to hear the answer over the music. 

Bucky almost rolls his eyes but catches himself at the last second. Instead, he twists his fingers together. “We only found out about the gala the day before and it took me hours to build up the nerve.” 

Bucky swallows and Sam tries to hide his amusement. He loves seeing ex-assassin Bucky Barnes being bashful, almost shy. 

“I like her,” Bucky admits, quietly, like it wasn’t written on his heart and on his fucking sleeve. “So much. I didn’t wanna rush and ruin everything.” 

Sam goes quiet, smiling softly. “Is that why I saw a rose in the trash?” 

Normally, Bucky would have made some stupid comment about Sam going through the trash, but all he could do was sigh, pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Sam’s eyes flick up, behind Bucky, and his smile widens into a grin, eyes bright with something akin to pride and amusement. 

“Well, seems like you have a lot going on,” Sam offers, quickly. He pushes himself up, grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands them to Bucky. Bucky stares up at him, half confused and half annoyed—a look Sam is quite familiar with. 

“Hi, Y/n.” Sam wiggles his fingers at you and briskly walks away, gets lost in the crowd, leaving Bucky with his spine straight. 

Before Bucky can turn around, or book it across the dance floor, you walk from behind him to Sam’s chair and take a seat. Bucky’s staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide. A mixture of warmth and love, soft and heavy, fills your body and your lips curl into something secretive. 

You gently take the glass from his hands and stare at him, admiring. You let the silence settle between you both, build into something welcoming before you lightly clink your glasses together. 

While you bring it to your lips, Bucky simply sets it beside him, staring at you like you might disappear any second and he rather just take you in. 

Eyes on him, you place the glass next to his, heart warm and butterflies in your stomach as you slowly stand. Everything inside you almost melts when he instinctively leans closer, hand hovering in case you need him. 

You step forward, lean in close, your breath brushing Bucky’s ear. “Can I have one last dance?” 

He doesn’t even think, just nods. He stands up slowly, lets you lead him back onto the floor. 

This time, the music is slow, intimate. No twirls, just you, in his arms, your cheek against his chest. The hand on his shoulder now rests at his neck and his fingers curl around your waist, his thumb brushing skin. 

He feels your lips near his ear, almost collapsing from the sensation alone. 

“Do you like me, Bucky?” 

Bucky’s throat bobs and his fingers curl into your skin tighter, almost like he could will the answer out of his body. Over your shoulder, Steve and Sam both gave him a thumb’s up before turning. 

Bucky clears his throat and pulls you closer. Your eyes lift to meet his and he slowly nods.

“Yes,” he tells you, quietly. “I do.” 

It wasn’t just like—it was love. He knew it was. He hadn’t felt it before but he knew it, like a stranger you saw often enough to recognize. But he didn’t want to scare you, push you away. 

Bucky was familiar with your smiles, the way you brighten when you’re happy, but it was nothing compared to now—nothing compares to the way you were glowing as he sways you, the way your eyes shine and your smile—oh, your smile, it was so soft and so loving. 

“Me too,” you tell him, just as quiet. “So much.”  

His heart slams and a shiver runs up his spine. He blinks at you slowly, lips parting. You lean back, eyes shining, wanting to take this moment in its entirety. 

Inside, everything is warm and burning. The way he holds you, like you’re something precious has your mind reeling and all you want is to hold him, for him to touch you and smile at you the way you ache for. 

Then—he smiles at you. 

It’s beautiful. Heart-breaking. 

Utterly devastating as it lights up his face, smooths out all the crevices and worries in his face. 

He pulls you flush against him and you giggle, something soft and airy but it lights Bucky up in a way you’ve never seen before. Your fingers brush the hair at his nape, nails scratching his skin. 

You lean forward, press your lips to the edge of his jaw. His eyes flutter shut and a deep rumble escapes him. The fire in your belly burns brighter and the need inside you cracks alive and all you see is him. 

“Take me home.” 

You barely recognize your own voice. The want—something you keep hidden, locked away for months or years—you hardly remember—has been pulled to the surface. 

Bucky stares, breathless. He doesn’t even know if the music is still playing because all he can see and hear is you. Everything else fades to the back and his neck is warm but he’s so happy—confused, but all warm inside. 

Your smile turns slightly wicked, the slight alcohol and confidence burns through your veins. 

“You gonna make me beg, Buck?” 

Oh, he’s in for it. 

His voice is low, a rasp, barely hanging on. “Ask nicely.” 

You laugh, bright and beautiful. 

The Bucky you know, quiet, warm, confident, is staring back at you with a small smile, heat and want and love dancing in his eyes. 

“Please, Bucky,” you whisper, teasing. “Take me home.” 

He takes your hand and leads you out, without looking back. 

The elevator doors close with a soft chime. 

The silence settles—electric. 

You’re still holding his hand—the metal one, cool and solid, familiar. 

Bucky stands opposite you—broad, strong, flushed from dancing. His chest rises and falls like he’s just run ten blocks, suit tight across his shoulders. You lean back against the mirrored wall, flushed, breathless, heart still pounding from that last dance. 

Your eyes lift to meet his. 

He’s on you in a second, hands gripping your waist, mouth slanting over yours with desperate, open-mouthed hunger. It’s not gentle, or soft. It’s heat and need and years of unspoken want bursting at the seams. 

He kisses like a man who’s been starving for you, like he’s trying to memorize your mouth with his tongue. You moan into him. His tongue slides against yours, and he groans like he’s tasting something forbidden.

He kisses with desperation. With reverence. With a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat as your hips slot against his.

You break the kiss with a gasp. “Bucky—”

He dips to your throat, tongue licking into the space just below your jaw.

“Christ,” he breathes. “You’re killin’ me.”

“Good,” you pant, fingers curling into his jacket. “You deserve it. For making me wait this long.”

Your hands fist in the lapels of his tux, pulling him closer, closer, like there still isn’t enough of him touching you. He groans into your mouth when you bite his lips, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

“Fuck—” he breathes. “You taste so good.” 

You gasp as his metal hand slides beneath your dress, gripping your thigh and hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs around his waist, dress riding high, and thank God for the slit.

“Been wantin’ to do this for so fucking long,” he rasps against your throat, kissing, biting, sucking bruisses into your skin. “Didn’t think I could—didn’t think you’d want me—” 

“I do,” you whisper, dazed, fingers in his hair. “God, Bucky, I want you—” 

“And you’ll have me,” he kisses your neck, the skin below your ear. “You said please,” he pants, “and I listen when you ask.”

The elevator dings. The doors slide open.

He doesn’t put you down.

Your back hits the wall just outside the elevator, on his floor. He pins you there with his body, mouths at your neck like he hasn’t enough, like he’s been starving. 

You drag your fingers through his hair, tugging, pressing your chest flush against his. 

“I wanted you,” you whisper, losing your mind. “All night. I kept looking for you—” 

His voice is hoarse, Brooklyn accent thick and strong. “I was tryin’ not to fuckin’ look at you. Drove me insane.” 

You arch into him, gasping when his hips grind into yours. You can feel the thick press of him through his slacks, rubbing against the soaked lace between your legs. 

“Fuck,” you moan. “Bucky—please—” 

“I got you, sweetheart,” he whispers,  kissing your collarbone as he moves through the space blindly, holding you tight against him. “You’re mine tonight and forever. All fuckin’ mine.” 

He lays you down on the couch gently, like you’re something sacred and precious—and you are. 

Then he sinks to his knees in front of you, hands warm and pressing into your thighs as he drags them down your legs, eyes aflame. 

You barely have time to blink before he’s pulling your legs over his shoulders and pushing your dress higher, higher, until your thighs are bare and open and trembling. 

He stares at your panties—dark with wetness, delicate against your skin. His thumb rubs circles into your skin, like he can’t help but touch you, but remind you that you’re safe—loved. 

“Pretty little thing,” he murmurs, thumb stroking the damp lace. You gasp, legs trying to shut. His hands, big and warm, hold you open with little force, like he can command your body by sheer will. “Can I take ‘em off?”

You nod, breathlessly. All your dreams, fantasies you’d had but kept to yourself, were coming true. “Yes, Yes—please—” 

Bucky slides them down your legs, kissing your skin as he goes. His heart is about to jump out of his fucking chest and go barraling down the tower. He can hardly believe he’s on his knees—nose almost pressing into your cunt—can barely remember the gala itself. 

He spreads your thighs wide and groans—low and deep, almost painful. 

Bucky tried to be a gentleman, tried to be the good boy his mama raised, but some nights, when his hand wrapped around his cock, all he could picture was your pussy—how soft and beautiful it must have looked, how he’d make her drip for him.

The real thing didn’t even measure. He can’t believe he thought his imagination could do her any justice. 

“Fuck me,” he breathes, eyes wide and shiny. “You’re so wet. Fuckin’ dripping, baby.” 

“Only for you,” you whisper. 

There’s something warm in your voice that makes him look up, into your hooded eyes. You smile, nothing but love and promise on your face. It’s like you're telling him that you know—know he’s thought about you, that you want him as bad as he wants you, that you want everything he has to offer. 

His eyes are blazing, chest heaving. 

The curve of his smile presses against your skin as he presses soft, open mouthed kisses to your thighs. You barely notice his trailing hand until it lands on your ass and he squeezes hard. You yelp at the feeling and jerk forward, his other hand steadies you easily. There’s laughter in your breath as you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut. 

Bucky licks a harsh stripe of your core, holds you down as you writhe under him. He presses his face closer to your cunt as his tongue licks and suckles, laps up all your juices. The sweetness, the unique taste of you has his eyes rolling back and he knows he’ll never taste anything that would compare.

The sounds of slurping and his lips smacking around your clit make your legs shake as you try to breathe. He tilts his head further, pushes his tongue deeper within you and you moan, broken and obscene. 

He curls the tip of his tongue upwards and you almost scream, tears falling down your cheeks at the pleasure.

“Yes, yes,” you chant, words falling from your lips like praise.

Lifting his eyes, Bucky hums at the sight of your pleasure, the way the tears fall prettily down your cheeks. One of his hands slides up your body, just to feel you, but before he could bring it back towards him, you grab it with a tight grip and settle it around your throat. 

He groans into your folds and your legs shake. Needing more, you begin moving your hips feverishly against his face, grinding down on him. Bucky moans into cunt as you smear all your slick over his face, his chin dripping with drool and arousal. 

“Bucky—oh my god—fuck—”

He grunts, and the sound vibrates through you.

“Could do this forever,” he pants.

“You taste so good—so sweet—gonna make you cum on my fuckin’ tongue—”

Your sweet scent and taste overwhelm his mind and he begins losing it, ruts against the edge of the sofa like a schoolboy, his lips latch onto your clit as he pushes himself closer to your dripping cunt, nose rubbing deliciously against your bud as he slides his tongue in and out of you. 

“James,” you cry, eyes barely open as you watch him suck you dry. The hand on your throat slides down to yours and he threads your fingers together and squeezes once, twice, thrice, before your legs pulse erratically and your walls clench around his tongue.

“I’m so close, baby.” 

Bucky’s brain short-circuits at your words, at the term, and he spreads you open wider and licks at you harsher, licking long strips as he teases your clit with his nose. 

“Cum, sweetheart,” he edges, lulling you closer to your orgasm. He needs this as bad as you do. “Cum all over my face, Y/n.” 

His words are enough to break you and your vision blurs as you moan, your stomach coils and recoils as your orgasm washes over you like cold water, soaks him completely. 

Bucky continues to push his tongue into your gushing pussy, lips coaxing all your juices down his throat, making you throw your head back as you arch into him. He licks and sucks harshly, even as you mumble incoherently about it being too much. 

When he pulls away, face covered in your slick, he smiles. Your whole body trembles and you lift your head just in time to watch him coat his fingers in your juices before he plops his fingers into his mouth and sucks. 

He looks so pleased, so completely, irrevocably and ardently in love with you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp, pussy fluttering. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

He grins—messy, flushed, lips shiny with your cum.

“You think I wasn’t dreamin’ about this? Every fuckin’ night?”

He lifts you easily, arms secure beneath your thighs and back. You melt into him, still dazed, as he carries you into his bedroom.

Just before he lays you down, you grip his shoulders.

“Wait,” you murmur, breath hitching. “Let me.” You unwrap your legs from around him but his hold on you stays tight, keeping you close. 

You push him until he stumbles back, landing on the bed with a grunt. He stares up at you, dazed. 

You climb into his lap, straddling him. Your dress is in bunches, and you remind yourself to apologize to Nat…she probably won’t want it back. 

Bucky tries to touch your hips, tries to breathe, but you grab his wrists and pin them to the bed. You’ve been in this position before, but it was in the training room, briefly, before he flipped you over. Now you know why. 

His breath catches when you press down on him, your wet cunt dragging across his hard bulge. 

“Hands to yourself,” your words are soft, teasing. 

He groans, tips his head back. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart—” 

You push yourself off him and start to stop. The straps of your dress slide off your shoulders slowly. You shimmy it down your body, piece by piece, letting it fall until you’re completely naked in front of him. 

He stares like you’ve knocked the breath from his lungs, like he’d follow you anywhere—take a bite of the apple simply because you looked at him. 

He’s been cast from heaven but he doesn’t mind, because Eden stands in front of him, beautiful and soft and looking at him—like he’s worthy of it. 

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, groanign at the sight of you. 

Grinning, you twirl for him. There’s scars on your skin, burns and patchy stitching, but you don’t care. You never really have and with the way Bucky’s looking at you, like you’re his salvation, you can’t help but move closer. 

“You like?” 

It’s a bizarre question, because you can see how much he likes it—how beautiful you are to him. But, still, because he’s always been sweet, he smiles something soft and nods, fingers twitching like he might reach out.

“You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunnin’.” 

You giggle and slide onto his lap again, kiss his throat and then move lower, kissing down his chest as you begin undoing his shirt. Bucky’s hands stay at his side, curling into fists because all he wants to do is touch.

You pull off his tie, undo the buttons slowly—torturously—and push the fabric open to reveal his bare chest. You’ve seen him shirtless a few times but every time, it knocks the wind out of you. 

Broad, defined, and hard. 

You kiss every inch. 

His abs flex as you drag your mouth down to his waistband, slowly getting to your knees. You undo his belt and pants slowly, hand grazing his cock through the fabric. 

He’s so hard—big—straining, leaking. 

You free him and his cock slaps against his stomach, thick and heavy and beautiful. It’s everything you thought it would be and more. 

“My God,” you almost whine. “No wonder you’ve got such an ego.” 

He laughs—then gasps when you kiss his inner thigh—close, so close. 

You kiss and bite his skin, etching your name into his skin so the ghost of your lips can live on. Once you’re satisfied, you lift your eyes and almost gasp at the way his cock was leaking, his tip red and veiny. Mesmerized, you lean forward and shift your eyes to his, finding nothing but darkness staring back at you. His blue eyes, the ones you love so dearly, have been replaced by something predatory, almost possessive. 

Still, you could see the softness threaded into the crinkles of his skin, the way he refuses to move, to touch you, until you make it clear that you want him to. You rest your cheek against his inner thigh and smile up at him. 

“I like you, Bucky.” Your voice is low, a mere brush of air against his skin, but he hears you. You need him to know—that this is more than lust for you, that it’s for life. “You gonna let me show you how much?”

Not trusting his voice, he simply nods. You blink up at him, unmoving. Swallowing the lust that claws in his throat, Bucky tilts his head forward. “Yes,” he breathes out. “Whatever you want.” 

Bucky barely had enough time to cry out your name before you lick a long stripe from his base to his tip, circling your tongue around him once before you repeat the action once more. All his empty words die in his throat as he releases a shaky breath at the feeling of your warm mouth taking him in completely. 

Pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, you taste the salty taste of his sweat and precum. It takes over your senses and you shift forward, circling your tongue around his tip. Pooling some spit on your tongue, you let it drip down his length as you wrap your hand around him, pressing soft kisses to his tip. 

Bucky groans, breathing heavier as his legs spasm around you. He moans out your name and you look up to the sight of his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back. His chest rises rapidly and he looks so beautiful, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his forehead, hair brushed back and unruly. 

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, his voice cracking as you push him further down your throat, ignoring the burn because he tastes addictive, sounds sweeter than anything you’ve ever heard. 

You hollow your cheeks, spit dripping down your throat as you work him with your mouth, humming when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Fuck—baby—” His voice breaks, raspy. “That’s it—that’s so fuckin’ good—” His thighs tremble and his abs clench. 

He twitches in your mouth and you push him deeper, practically begging. Before he can cum—

He pulls you off, voice and body wrecked. He pants, cock standing straight and leaking and harder than it’s ever been. 

“Wanna cum inside you,” he whimpers, pulling you off the floor and into his arms. “Wanna feel you, Y/n, baby—please.” 

You’re nodding, still reeling from the emptiness in your mouth. You straddle him again and he surges forward, captures your lips in a hot, messy kiss. It’s all teeth and lips and his hands are everywhere on you. 

As he kisses you senseless, you reach between your legs and guide him to your entrance, hissing into his mouth when his tip drags between your folds. 

The satisfying tightening and burn of his veins against your gummy walls make you both moan in unison, your body falling limp into his as you sink down completely, the base of his cock hitting your core. The stretch feels amazing, so good, and all you can do is tuck your face into the crook of his neck, biting back a sob. 

His hands grip your hips, jaw slack. He can’t breathe—can barely think with your pussy wrapped around him, warm and tight and so perfect. 

“Fuck—you feel so fuckin’ good—so tight—” 

He nips at your jaw, tongue dragging across your skin as you roll your hips, bracing your hands on his chest. You feel so full, leaking all over his lap. You press a soft kiss to his neck and his hips jerks upwards, filling you to the brim, his tip reaching parts of you only he could. 

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he interrupts you by crashing his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp greedily. His lips move roughly against yours, so perfect, as one of his hands slide down to your ass, gripping tightly as he moves his hips against yours. 

He kisses down your body, pressing wet, open mouth kisses to the skin between your breasts, licking and sucking, tongue brushing against your nipples. 

You were a mess above him, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut, incoherent mumbles and whimpers leaving your lips as you pull and scrape his hair and the nape of his neck. 

He twitches inside you, against your sensitive walls and you almost cry out. As if sensing your distraught, one of his hands grip your waist protectively and he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

You slowly move, sliding him in and out of your pussy. His hold on your waist helps lift you up and down, guiding you to a delicious pace. His hands slide from your waist to your ass, resting there. 

Bucky throws his head back when you begin jumping on his cock, his balls slapping against your cunt. You grip his shoulders and he can feel his skin break as you dig your nails into his skin, the creak of his bed loud as the room fills with your mixed moans. 

You slow down, press down on his length to catch your breath. Grinding on his laps, his cock brushes against all your sweet spots, stretches your walls with a delicious burn. You wiggle around on his cock and Bucky’s eyes fly open and he stares at you with a heavy gaze. 

He sits up straighter, wraps his arms around you and kisses your throat. “Can’t—fuck.” He thrusts his hips up, almost animally. “Gotta have you—” 

Holding you close, he flips you onto your back and thrusts. 

You gasp as he drives into you, pressing you into the mattress. He grips onto your hips and pulls you towards him, flush against his pelvis as he rocks his hips forward, fucking his cock into you.

Back arched, you moan when his hand travels to your throat and he holds you firmly beneath him, tilting your head backwards as he applies just the right amount of pressure to your jugular veins, making you lightheaded as he slides in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

He smiles when you whimper, teeth grazing the side of your throat as he bites down, pressing your hips flush against his pelvis, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, making you see stars. 

His hand cups your jaw and his mouth claims yours, softer, despite the rough and messy pace of his hips. He kisses you slowly, traces his devotion into your gums. 

“I love you,” he whispers, like he couldn’t help it. “I love you.”

Your heart stutters and you wrap your arms around his neck—tighter. You kiss his nose, the edge of his lips, before his lips.

“I love you too.” 

It was inevitable, you think. You were always going to fall in love with him. There was so much to love. 

He groans like he’s about to lose it, like your words have single-handedly freed him from all of his crimes and sins. 

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. 

“Inside,” you whine, begging. “Cum inside me—please, Buck.” 

His hips stutter and he practically growls. “Fuck—my pretty girl. Gonna cum inside you,” he moans. “Fill you up—want it to stay—wanna make you—”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, his cock filling you to the brim. 

You clench around him, vision going white as you gush around him and he shudders, hips stuttering as he spills inside you with a broken moan of your name. 

He thrusts through it, panting, pressing kisses to your cheek, your neck, your lips. 

Once he’s sure he’s emptied himself completely inside you, he slows his pace and presses kisses all over your face, slowly halting the movement of his hips. You fall into a slump underneath him and he wraps his arms around you tightly, body pressing against yours, mumbling quietly to you.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered after a moment. 

You hum, eyes too tired and droopy to open. He rubs your stomach soothingly, tries to ground you before he moves. “Are you okay, Y/n? Do you need anything?” 

Slowly, you shake your head and open your eyes. He’s staring back at you with so much love in his eyes, nothing but softness and concern bright in his eyes. He nudges his nose against yours and you smile, cracking his chest open. 

“Just you,” you whisper, finger curling into his dog tags as you pull him in for a kiss. 

He laughs into your mouth but kisses you with the same fervor you kiss him with. Gently, Bucky pulls out of your sopping cunt and you both bite back a hiss. He shifts his weight and maneuvers his body until you’re laying in his arms, your chest pressing against his, legs intertwined. 

He knows he has to clean you up, get you a glass of water and maybe something to eat, but your eyes flutter shut and your hand rests on his heart so he puts it off, knows you need him more. 

He runs his hands along your arms and then your shoulders, pressing into your skin occasionally to remind you that he’s right here—for good. You snuggle into him, press a kiss to a scar above his heart. 

He strokes your spine with trembling fingers, his heart full and warm and content. 

“You’re mine now,” he whispers, voice rough and soft and questioning. 

You lift your eyes to meet his and kiss his jaw. “Was always yours.” 

He smiles—small, awestruck. 

“You’re still my best friend,” he says, quietly. Like he needs you to know. 

“And you’re mine,” you respond, just as quiet. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, holds you tight against him. 

It’s all he’s ever wanted—to be yours. In every way. 

[ethe-realfantasy]

It's late and you’re curled up on Simon’s couch as the movie you were just watching comes to an end. Riley lays snoozing at your feet, one of her paws twitching in a dream. You're nestled into Simon’s side beneath a worn but warm throw blanket. When you shift beside him, suddenly overcome by sleep, you let out a soft, high-pitched hum. A tiny release that escapes you as you move, a little sound of contentment.

Simon’s body freezes immediately.

You don't notice it at first, with your eyes still half on the screen, half lost in the sleepy afterglow of the movie. But he does. Every nerve in him reacts to that sound like someone flipped a switch inside him. He is rock hard in an instant.

His jaw clenches and his heart starts to race.

You tilt your head toward him, catching the sudden tension in his body. “What?” you ask gently, with curious eyes.

He blinks at you like he's trying to rejoin reality. “Do that again.”

“Do what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“That sound,” he says, shifting slightly away from you, like he needs space to get a grip on himself. “The little sigh. Just… do it again.”

You narrow your eyes, now smiling, but still confused. “What sound, Simon?”

“You know what sound," he says and his energy changes. His voice is low, almost a growl, but playful. "C'mere."

"You're hearing things."

"Am I now?"

You sense the shift in his energy and move slowly toward the edge of the couch. “I didn't do anything!” you giggle.

His eyes flash and there is something hungry behind them. Without warning, he shoots up and you shriek with laughter, jumping up from the couch as Riley blinks awake and watches the sudden chaos unfold. You dart toward the hallway, still giggling.

“Simon!” you squeal, laughing breathlessly as you dodge away from him into the kitchen. He's already chasing you. "What's gotten into you?"

“Do you think you can get away with that?”

“I don’t even know what sound you mean!”

He catches up in three long steps, grabbing you gently but firmly around the waist and lifting you clean off the ground. You laugh even harder now and it echoes through his flat like sunshine. Both of you are breathless, both smiling like idiots.

“You’re insane,“ you laugh, as he presses his face into your stomach, ”put me down!“

„You have no idea what that did to me.“

You twist in his hold, cheeks flushed and your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders as your giggles soften. “You’re being ridiculous."

“Let’s see if you can make more of those,“ he murmurs, already carrying you back to the couch.

[angelltheninth]

I have yet to see Kpop demon hunters today but I am craving for Jinu smut, But also I don’t like noncon/dubcon in the slightest but if this feels like it so be it lol, So may I request Jinu x huntrix member fem reader? When reader decides to investigate the saja boys by herself, The rest of the girls are obviously worried about her safety but she tells them that she’ll be okay, Cut to a couple hours later with Jinu absolutely pounding reader from behind and making her cum nonstop just as he wanted to ever since he layed eyes on her.

I can do dub-con. I don't think people realize it's a very common kink.

Pairing: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, rough sex, creampie, body betrayal, enemies who fuck, possessive sex, biting, hate sex

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: This movie now lives rent free in my head.

You should have listened to your friends, you should have never went after Jinu all by yourself, you should have brought backup. Now you're bent over his bed, getting your pussy pounded raw and hard from behind. "Either you and yours are getting sloppy or you're really stupid for thinking you could defeat us on your own. Or even just defeat me. Or, hah, maybe, you came here hoping this would happen."

As soon as you heard him suggest such a thing you turned your head to glare at him. Jinu grinned, his smile as demonic as it always was, no longer hidden behind that pretty facade. With your arms pinned and held behind your back you could barely move, and whenever you did you just took his cock, over and over. It was driving you insane.

"Go fuck yourself, you goddamn bastard." You gritted through your teeth, biting back your moans as his thrusts kept getting faster and faster, deeper, almost like he was trying to punish you for acting foolish. "I would never stoop so low... to want someone like you." A high pitched moan escaped from your lips when you felt the sting of his hand on your ass.

"You say that, demon hunter, but your cunt is drooling for me, so tight and wet. Hear that, how sloppy and slutty you pussy gets with demon cock in it?" He slammed his cock into you, in and out, making your legs tremble and your vision blurry. "Be honest, it'll feel so much better."

You shook your head as you felt yourself blushing. You hated it, how good Jinu's cock felt inside of you, how good this felt and yet it was so wrong. You hated him, you should hate this too so why was your body working against you in this moment? Why couldn't you tell him to go to hell like you so many times before?

"Better, that's a good girl. No more fighting me. Don't worry, this can be our little secret, no one has to know how you whore yourself out for me." His body pressed fully against your, his demonic fangs nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulder. "I won't tell if you won't, demon hunter. You got my word." The glare you gave him was challenging, you hoped threatening but that was impossible with the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin and your pussy taking his hard cock while you moaned.

"Your word... means nothing to me." You hissed, putting as much venom and hatred in your voice as you could have. He didn't seem pleased with that, he bared his long teeth at you and you hated how your pussy clenched around him when you saw them.

"Really? Fine, makes no difference to me. But see how your team feels when you come back to them, with your cunt freshly fucked and filled with demon cum." You watched him transform from his human form into his demon form, and god, his cock felt even better like this. "I don't care if you believe me or not but I'm gonna make sure you never forget this moment. The moment when you came from being fucked by me, because of my cock, because I made you feel so good!"

With one final thrust he pushed both your bodies over the edge, and you stopped yourself just in time to not scream his name. You didn't want to feed his ego any more than you already have. Jinu laughed maniacally as he fucked his seed deep into your pussy, the wet, messy noises only adding to his feral, wild nature.

"Fuck, yes, oh, wanted this... ever since I first saw you. Wanted to carve the shape of my cock into your cunt. Make you mine." He ended with a long kiss on your shoulder, still holding you while your body trembled and your vision swam. "Mine, only mine from now on." You expected him to be rough as he pulled out but he wasn't, he was slow, stopping as he heard you hiss and whimper. "Now that's a pretty little sight."

You heard a flash of a camera and turned to see Jinu smirking with his phone in his hand, his cock still out, dripping with the combination of your release. "You...! Gross! You have no shame!"

Jinu stuck his tongue out at you, "A little keepsake for me. To tide me over until our next time."

An unpleasant, or maybe pleasant, shiver went through you at the suggestion of a next time with him. "That won't happen. I'm going to bring you to your knees before then!"

"Oh? If you wanted me on my knees all you had to do was ask. I'm very good with my tongue. I can show you next time." His words and lewd gestures made your stomach tie into knots, and an uncomfortable heat form. "I could do it now. Seems like you might need some cleaning up."

Furious you stood up on your wobbly legs and slapped him. It was pathetic, that this was the best you could muster in this moment, but it also felt good to catch him off guard. "You're dead next time I see you."

Despite the slap he grinned at you, licking his lips, "Looking forward to it, my demon hunter." He winked at before he snapped his fingers next to your ear. For a moment you didn't understand what he did, then your vision started blurring. You tried to hit him again but ended up collapsing against him. "Let's get you somewhere where the others will find you." Barely coherent you thought you felt his lips press against your forehead before you fully passed out.

[eufezco]

DINNER WITH FRIENDS𓂃 𓈒 ❀

thunderbolts*!bucky x fem!pregnant!reader

synopsis – when bucky returns home he's not alone and a quiet evening turns into a full house. seven months pregnant and unprepared, you're caught off guard but family is family.

a/n – this is just a little scenario that crossed my mind when i got out of the cinema after watching thunderbolt* for the fourth time. pleasee send me bucky requests i want to write for him but i have like 0 ideas. writing this i realized that i've oficially fallen for the john walker propaganda 😞

fluff

it was later than usual and bucky stil hadn't come home.

rebecca was in her room, playing quietly as she waited for her dad. you were in the kitchen. dinner was already done so with nothing else to do, you found yourself rearranging things on the counter, trying to distract your mind from the worry. you rubbed your seven-month pregnant belly as if it were a magic lamp and you were wishing for him to return. and then you heard the front door creak open.

—bucky? —you moved quickly out of the kitchen but you stopped on your track when you saw he wasn't alone.

—yeah, it's me.

—oh my god, —you breathed before he could finish talking, your hand flying to your chest. you weren't expecting five people with him. their faces familiar yet you'd never met them in person.

bucky stood in the middle of the group, his lips pressed together in a guilt line. he knew full well you weren't expecting this and that he should've warned you beforehand, but he hadn't known they'd all need a place to drop by on the same night after the same mission.

he'd hesitated, worried about adding more stress when you were already seven months pregnant. but then he thought of home and you and rebecca and how it might be the one thing that could soften the edges of everything they'd been through that day. and god help bucky, you'd told him a million times you'd love to meet them.

so here they were. on your doorstep. in your hallway.

—hi, —you said to them. you blinked, caught between surprise and disbelief.

bob waved his hand. yelena, ava and john pressed their lips together.

—oh, hi john —you knew john. he and bucky had caused each other a lot of headaches in the past, but you were glad that at least now they tolerated each other. john showed you a little smile.

alexei made his way through the group and approached you with open arms. you raised your eyebrows and just let the big man cover you in a hug. he smelled like vodka and leather but surprisingly, he was really careful with your belly as he hugged you.

—mrs. barnes, the wife of the soldier, oh, it's so nice finally meeting you, —he said with a rough russian accent. —behind every great man is a great woman, they say. a greater woman, may i add.

as he held you, you caught all the other faces around the room, all rolling their eyes. you giggled when he finally released you, alexei was just as dramatic as bucky described him. —thank you, alexei.

—you know my name, she knows my name! —he turned to tell the others. they gave him plain nods and lazy smiles.

—of course, everyone knows your names now. plus, bucky talks about you five all the time.

bucky closed his eyes and ava grinned and nudged him with her elbow.

—yelena, right?

you approached the blonde girl standing next to bucky. she had the same stormy look in her eyes as him, she could definitely be his little sister. she looked at bucky a little unsure when you called her name, almost as if for reassurance. she hadn't wanted to come at first, she didn't want to cross that line, didn't want to step into something as private and sacred as his home.

yelena nodded to your question. you softened your expression and offered a warm smile. bucky caught her hesitation and he gently pressed his hand to her back, giving her an encouraging push. you opened your arms and puller her into a hug before she could think too hard about it. she tensed for a moment but then her arms came high around you, as if she was afraid of even brushing your belly.

you hugged ava, careful not to press against her delicate suit. you'd heard enough from bucky to know how sensitive the tech could be and how guarded ava was underneath it.

bob was so ready when you hugged him and welcomed him to your house. he'd seen bucky's photos of you, the lock screen on his phone. he knew how after every operation, buck's first texts were always to you, checking in, making sure you were safe and letting you know that he made it out alive. if bob had the power of one million exploding suns, he was certain it still wouldn't match how fiercely bucky loved you. and that gave him hope.

you smiled before you hugged john. he wasn't sure if you'd want him in your house, after all, he'd been a pain in bucky's ass but hey, in his defense, bucky had been just as much of a pain in his. still, you welcomed him.

and the best for last. as the rest inspected your living room, looking at the photos and tripping over rebecca's toys, bucky stood with the most exhausted expression on his face. he stepped closer and let his head fall against your shoulder. one of your hands went to the back of his head, fingers slipping into his hair.

—long day?

bucky just hummed.

—how was yours?

—good. the baby barely kicked after last night, —in that moment you felt bucky's hands come to rest on both sides of your belly, his thumbs rubbed slow circles, up and down, protective, telling the baby he was finally home, taking care of his mom. —and rebecca drew alpine. with eight legs and no ears. she's very proud.

he breathed a laugh, —sounds about right.

bucky's friends were busy, the five of them around a photo frame on the wall. the only photo you had of bucky from 1940s, stiff and young in his uniform soldier, eyes still full of something bright that hydra hadn't yet extinguished.

he lifted his head from your shoulder and you cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing over his rough beard. you pressed your lips softly against his, as if you were trying to transfer all the calm and love he'd missed during the day. as you pulled back, you noticed his shoulders dropped, releasing the tension, but the worried expression remained.

you reached up again, brushing your thumb over the line of his cheek as bucky's arms wrapped around your body, resting on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him, carefully, until he could feel your belly pressed against him, a connection between the three of you.

—talk to me, —you whispered.

he sighed, —didn't want to bring the day home, but they needed a place... and i couldn't leave them on the street. i didn't want to add more into it, not in your state.

you smiled. so it was that.

—you did the right thing, buck. they're family. if they needed somewhere to go, then they're welcome here. they'll always be.

bucky pressed his lips together. his two families. the one he fought beside and the one he came home to.

he'd never called them that before, not even in his head. they cared about each other in the quiet, protected one another during missions and watched each other's back in battle. they stood between each other and the line of fire and carried each other when the mission left someone too hurt to stand.

it doesn't matter if bucky never said the word, they were his family.

he slowly nodded at your words, —it was supposed to be just bob... didn't expect all of them to show up at once.

—well, neither did the couch, —you teased, getting a soft laugh from him.

ava caught both your eyes as she turned from the wall where she'd been quietly observing young bucky's photo.

—you were so clean-shaven, it's almost like seeing you naked.

you burst out laughing just as bucky groaned beside you, head dropping on your shoulder again like the comment physically wounded him.

—look at that jawline, it could cut glass, —bob said, squinting his eyes at the photo, hands on his hips.

—sharp enough to be a war crime, —you kissed the top of bucky's head. he lifted it slightly, oh so you were joining them now?

—were there toothpaste ads back then? because you sure look like one. fight fascism and fight plaque.

—that's the image of a man! of the soldier! a hero! —alexei boomed, gesturing toward the photo like it belonged in a museum.

—yeah, a man that gave speeches on liberty bonds or punch hitler.

—i did punch hitler, —bucky said flatly, barely looking up.

—how many times are you gonna bring that up?

—as many as it takes, john.

—you should put that on a t-shirt, —john continued, —i punched hitler and all i got was this brooding personality.

you noticed yelena's attention was on the rest of the photos. the teasing in the room faded to a hum behind her.

her eyes moved from frame to frame, pausing on each one. a photo from your summer in wakanda, bucky with his hair tied back, sunlight turning the metal of his arm into gold as rebecca sat on his shoulders, his hands steady at her ankles. next to that was a shot of the hospital room, bucky still in scrubs, circles under his eyes, holding his daughter for the first time. all memories you'd been building through the years. not all of them were easy, not all of them looked like picture frames. it was what yelena had been looking for all her life.

—bucky, —yelena called him, getting everyone's attention. the teasing died down completely when everyone looked to the stairs.

rebecca stood halfway down, clutching her uncle sam captain america's plushie, her socked feet fidgeted against the step like she wasn't sure if she wanted to go back up or keep coming down. her thumb hovered near her mouth the way it only did when she was unsure of something.

—damn, she definitely is your daughter, —yelena said to bucky.

the little girl was a small version of bucky. blue deep eyes, brown hair that curled at the ends in soft waves, the way she looked at everyone without saying a word, just like bucky always did. she had that look on her face just like his, the one where even though she wasn't talking, it showed that her mind was moving fast, watching everything and everyone.

mostly, she looked overwhelmed. strangers filled her living room, standing loud, tall, unfamiliar in the space she knew as home. until she saw bucky. her bucky. she didn't hesitate. she ran down the stairs, her little feet pounding against the steps. without hesitation, she threw herself into her dad's arms, wrapping her small arms tightly around his neck. bucky lifted her effortlessly, smiling big as he held her close.

—oh, you definitely ate all of your veggies today, bug, you got stronger, almost knocked me off my feet.

rebecca's giggles filled the room. the others stood nearby, watching the scene, unsure how to react to seeing bucky all soft. even alexei, who rarely blinked at anything, went unusually still. you rubbed your daughter's back as she tucked her face in bucky's neck, her little fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, when she realized all eyes were on her.

—she's a little shy at first, but when she gains a little confidence, you'll be begging her to stop talking, —you explained to the group, half apologetic, half proud. they all nodded and smiled, understanding. —'becca, these are dad's friends. they're here just for tonight. you okay if they stay a little while?

she gave the smallest nod, still hiding her face in bucky's neck. he turned, holding her against his body, toward the rest of the group.

—boss says you can stay, —bucky announced.

yelena let out a yay, bob mumbled a sweet thank you.

rebecca peeked a little from the crook of bucky's neck, her eyes finding john first. he offered her a small, friendly wave. she hesitated but she ended up lifting her hand a mimicking the motion.

—out of all of them, —bucky murmured, more for john to hear than to her, —you had to wave to walker first?

john of course heard it and rolled his eyes.

in that moment your feet started to hurt more than you realized. too much standing for a seven months pregnant. you shifted your wight, trying to ease it, but even the small movement sent a bolt of discomfort up your spine. one of your hands instinctively moved to the curve of your belly and the baby fluttered under your palm, not a kick, just a little roll.

bucky noticed, but not just him, everyone in the room did.

—you okay? —ava asked.

—you should sit, —yelena added.

alexei immediately grabbed the nearest chair to him as bucky carefully lowered rebecca. —okay, bug, let's help mama, —he approached you, wrapping his metal arm around your body and helping you sit carefully.

rebecca stood, clutching with her captain america plushie tightly as her eyes flicked between john, bob, yelena and ava. none of them knew how to respond to her watchful presence, except for john, who caught her gaze again and with the little experience he had with kids, knelt down to her level, making himself less intimidating.

—why don't you guide me to the kitchen and we'll get your mom a glass of water?

she blinked, thinking about it for a second, then slowly nodded. john stood, not expecting her to wrapped her small fingers into his hand as she lead the way. to say that bucky was freaking out would be an understatement.

in the kitchen, rebecca pointed at the cupboard where the glass where kept. john took one of them and filled it with water from the tap. then, she gave him her captain america plushie so she could grab the glass, was this kind of bad joke? john followed her, still holding the plushie like he wasn't sure if it was meant to curse him or recruit him.

yelena and ava huffed a laugh when they saw him carrying the plushie.

rebecca carefully approached you, then gently handed over the glass. bucky gave john a grateful nod. you smiled warmly, taking a sip, —thank you, sweetie.

—my sister makes mama sick sometimes, —rebecca explained to everyone. the room was still, hearing her voice for the first time like it was something sacred.

—but you take good care of her, —bob said, his voice gentle.

—yeah, you sure are doing a great job, kid. i couldn't have brought that glass of water better myself, —john added.

rebecca showed a little smile, proud. with extreme care, she placed her tiny hand on your belly, her fingers splaying and she waited, hoping for the smallest kick from her baby sister. bucky kissed the top of your head.

—i made dinner, but i only expected bucky...

a chorus of don't worry, not hungry, i'm okay, i ate earlier, happened before you could finish talking. you looked around them all, tired, boots dusty from whatever roads they'd taken today, and hungry. no matter what they said.

—so we could order something, —you finally suggested.

bucky thought it was a great idea because there was no way he was going to let them go to bed with empty stomachs. while he made the call to the pizzeria, rebecca marched to the kitchen, ava and walker behind her like shadows as she pointed out the drawer with the cutlery.

back in the living room, you stood up from the chair. yelena, alexei and bob didn't let you out of their sight for a second. bucky, still on the phone, caught your movement and gave yelena a sharp nod, a silent command to keep you from doing anything else and to get you to the couch. you assured that you were fine, but it was no use.

at least alexei was no bore, he talked nonstop, about everything that came to his mind, most of the times embarrassing memories of little yelena. and rebecca had abandoned ava and walker to their luck in the kitchen and sat down next to bob with her notebook. you heard her mumble a wanna see my drawings? and the boy, as the sweetheart he was, couldn't deny. she explained every detail to him, not even letting bob get a word or ask a question.

ava helped bucky spread the tablecloth and john placed carefully the plates and glasses on the table.

—so, —ava said, looking at bucky with a teasing smirk, —another girl? you're the ultimate girl dad.

—yeah, three girls plus you and yelena. keeping me on my toes.

ava didn't say anything but she felt a little warmer at the way he'd included her and yelena in that count, like they were a bigger part of his life. he hadn't said it with any special emphasis, hadn't even looked at her when he said it but still, it stuck with her.

and the dinner was nice. so nice. bucky sat close by your side, his fingers gently holding your free hand over the table. rebecca was between yelena and ava but she was laughing at something walker had said to her, something funny enough to light up her whole face. bob had a soft blush on his cheeks. people laughing, sharing stories, the clink of plates and glasses, it almost felt unreal to him.

bucky leaned to kiss your cheek. you absolutely had no idea where all these people were going to sleep. the couch, the floor, a few air mattresses if the closet still held them, but definitely not enough beds. but looking at all together, sitting around the same table, full and happy, it didn't seem to matter at all.

[buckysleftbicep]

soft hands, heavy heart 𐙚 b.b

pairing: inexperienced!new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, soft smut, praise kink (sorta), slow first time, unprotected sex, creampie, a tinge of angst if you squint, the fluff makes up for it

summary: bucky wants you, but he just doesn’t know how to let himself have you. but you’ll spend every second showing him how it feels to be wanted.

word count: 4.5k

author's note: hi my sweethearts! i'd like to think that after bucky returns, he would need a lot of reassurance and tlc, especially after all he has went through. i feel that he would love to be guided and to know he is loved. so i hope this fic encapsulates that 💌 love ya guys and stay safe out there! requests are open!

so in love with soft!bucky

It starts with his hands. Or rather, what they don’t do.

They hold yours when you’re walking down quiet halls in the compound, fingers interlocked, the brush of calloused skin a comfort more than anything else. 

They linger at the small of your back when no one’s looking—firm, steady, grounding you when the world gets too loud.

They cradle your face when you’re scared, trembling, coming down from the edge of something violent. Missions gone wrong, intel turned sour, blood on your skin. In those moments, his hands are everything you ever needed. Steady and safe.

But when your lips are on his?

When your body presses into his in the quiet dark of your shared bedroom, heat blooming between the both of you like something long-restrained finally breaking free?

That’s when they stop.

Always. Just… stop.

Bucky, your boyfriend, your partner, the man who has grown to be your person. He kisses you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world, but somehow, he never touches you when it matters most.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried. You have, god you tried.

More than once, lying against his chest at night, your fingers ghosting beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Kissing along the sharp cut of his jaw, whispering how much you want him. How much you need him.

Each time, his breath hitches, his body goes rigid. Then, slowly, carefully, almost apologetically, he pulls away from your touch. 

Not with disgust, not with rejection. There’s no coldness in the way he moves. No sharp recoil.

But there is something worse that you have come to realise. Fear.

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

He’d had a long day. The mission briefing with Val had been rough, all sharp orders, bad intel, and barely contained frustration within the team, Walker had quite literally stormed out of the meeting room.

Bucky had come back tense, shoulders tight, jaw set, that look in his eyes that meant he was still somewhere else. Still halfway in a fight.

So when you leaned in that night, pressing soft kisses under his jaw, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, and he stilled beneath you, gently shifting away with a quiet murmur of your name, you let it go.

You curled into his side instead. Told yourself he was tired. Told yourself you were tired too. You ran your fingers lightly along his arm until his breathing evened out, steady and slow.

And when sleep finally took him, you whispered a kiss to his shoulder and closed your eyes, thinking, hoping, maybe next time.

The second time, you wondered.

It was a few nights later. He wasn’t tense then, he wasn’t distracted or moody or freshly back from some dark place.. He was relaxed, even, the kind of rare, quiet ease you didn’t always get from him.

You both had laughed over dinner, some home cooked lasagna you had whipped up after finding the recipe online. You had teased him until he smiled into his fork and shook his head, muttering about how much trouble you were.

He’d watched you like he always did, like you hung the moon and the stars, like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, to deserve you.

And when you kissed him that night, slow and lingering, your hands soft on his jaw, you felt that same warmth in him. The way he kissed you back, like he meant it.

So you tried again. Slid your hand beneath his shirt, fingers brushing the firm lines of his stomach.

He flinched. Not much. But enough.

And then, just like the first time, he shifted away. Pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You froze. Pulled your hand back like you had touched something sharp.

And then you nodded, smiling just a little too quickly.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You turned onto your side, curled up with your back to him.

Tried your hardest to not let the sting behind your eyes show.

His arm came around you a few moments later, his chest pressed to your back like nothing had changed. Like everything was still okay.

You didn’t say a word.

But that night, long after you were sure he was asleep, your eyes stayed open. Staring at the shadowed wall. Wondering what it was about you that made him pull away.

The third time, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

It had been an easy day, all things considered. No missions. No debriefs. No emergencies. Just the two of you, and the rare kind of quiet that settled into the compound like a blanket.

You ate dinner in bed, greasy takeout balanced precariously on Bucky’s lap while some forgettable movie played low in the background.

You stole bites from his container; he rolled his eyes but let you. Laughed when you misquoted a line. Kissed your cheek. Brushed rice off your shirt with the softest smile.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

Because everything had felt right. Comfortable. Easy. The kind of night that warmed you from the inside out.

It was late when the movie finally dwindled into credits. You stacked the empty containers on the nightstand, slid back under the covers, and curled against his chest with a sigh. His arm came around you like it always did, instinctive, easy. Protective.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The glow of the screen lit the room in soft, flickering blue. Your legs were tangled with his. Your cheek rested against the cotton of his t-shirt. He felt steady beneath you. Safe.

So when you tilted your head up and kissed him, it wasn’t with expectation. It wasn’t about sex, or hunger, or even want.

It was soft. Familiar. The kind of kiss you gave someone when you were in love.

He kissed you back, of course he did. That part was never the problem. He always kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that could anchor him.

But the moment your hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, everything changed.

Just the pad of your fingers brushing lightly over his stomach. Just a touch.

And still, he tensed.

You felt it the way someone feels a tide turning, quiet, sure, inevitable.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t recoil. He just went still. Careful. Measured. One hand lifted to catch your wrist and gently moved it away from his skin, like it wasn’t a rejection. Like it didn’t mean something.

But it did.

He turned slightly, as if he meant to settle back into bed like nothing had happened. Like you could pretend this wasn’t the third time in a row.

But you didn’t follow.

Instead, you sat up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest, the sheet falling across your thighs. You stared at the far wall, lips pressed into a thin line, throat tight.

You heard the shift in his voice before he even finished asking.

“Hey,” he said softly, already sensing the change. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away.

The silence that followed wasn’t loud. It was thick. Still. The kind of quiet that feels like the moment before something breaks.

When you finally spoke, your voice came out low, shaky.

“Do you want me?”

He didn’t move.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You kept your eyes on your hands, twisting your fingers in the blanket like it might keep the rest of you from unraveling.

“Because I want you,” you continued, quieter now. “And every time I try, you pull away. I know you care about me, I know you do, but I can’t help wondering if maybe I’m wrong about all of it.”

He went very, very still.

Then, “Stop.”

His voice was sharp, and the suddenness of it made you blink.

You turned, startled.

He was sitting up now, scrubbing a hand over his face. His jaw was tight. His shoulders tense. Like your words had opened something he hadn’t meant to expose.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t mean to—just. I’m sorry. Don’t say that. Ever.”

You stared at him.

“Then talk to me,” you said softly. “Because it’s getting harder not to take it personally.”

He didn’t look at you.

His gaze dropped to the sheets. His fists were clenched in his lap. The vibranium hand trembled slightly. The other, human and scarred, looked like it was holding on to something invisible.

You sat beside him again. Close, but not touching.

Your voice was quiet. Measured, ounded, but not accusatory.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” you asked. “Like you’re in love with me?”

You swallowed hard.

“Because you do. Every day.”

He still didn’t say anything.

“And then I touch you, and you freeze. Like I’ve crossed a line I didn’t know was there. Like I’ve done something wrong.”

There was something in your chest pulling tighter with every second of silence. Something raw and anxious and aching.

His hands stayed clenched.

You reached for him, carefully, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. The human one. His skin was warm. His pulse jumped beneath your touch.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “What is it? You can tell me.”

He exhaled. Rough. Uneven.

For a second, you thought he might deflect. That he might dodge this like he had before — with a soft kiss or a change of subject. But then he swallowed hard, eyes flicking to yours for just a moment before dropping again.

“I haven’t…” he started, then paused. Cleared his throat. “I haven’t done anything since before the war.”

The breath caught in your chest.

He laughed, but it wasn’t amused. It was hollow. Embarrassed.

“Not just sex,” he said. “Anything. After HYDRA… after everything. I didn’t—I couldn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly ashamed. Smaller, somehow. Like admitting it out loud took more from him than he’d expected.

“It’s been over eighty years.”

You didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched him.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he said, still not meeting your eyes. “You’re here, and you’re kind, and you’ve never pushed. But I get so far and then it’s like—like my body just shuts down. Like some part of me still thinks I’m not allowed to want things.”

Your heart twisted.

Not from pity. But from the weight of it. The quiet devastation he carried like a second skin.

Then, more quietly:

“You think I don’t want you?” His voice dropped. “Fuck, sweetheart. I want you so bad it hurts. Every night I lie here hard as a fucking rock just thinking about you.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes squeezed shut.

“But I’m—” He shook his head. “I’m scared.”

You moved then.

Not away. But forward.

You reach for his wrist again, let your fingers slide gently down to his hand. His pulse was racing. His breath shallow.

“Scared of what?” you asked, softer now.

He looked at you. Finally. Really looked. And what you saw in his eyes made your chest ache, something wide and raw and terrified.

“That I’ll disappoint you,” he said. “That I won’t know what I’m doing. That you’ll want someone who’s not stuck in the goddamn 40s when it comes to this stuff.”

Your face softened. A small, aching smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, even through the tightness in your chest.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

You climbed into his lap carefully, like you were afraid you’d spook him. You framed his face with your hands, your thumbs brushing along the curve of his cheekbones.

“You’re already everything I want and more,” you said, steady and sure. “But I need you to believe that.”

His breath hitched.

“And if you let me,” you continued, voice barely above a whisper now, “I’ll show you everything. I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you.”

He didn’t answer right away.

His eyes searched yours. Guarded, hopeful. Terrified. Like part of him still thought this might not be real.

But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

And when he did, something in you finally, quietly exhaled.

You don’t rush him.

After everything he’s said,  every word laced with fear and heartbreak and hope, the last thing he needs is haste. Or pressure. Or you moving too fast for him to feel safe.

So you just breathe for a moment.

You stay in his lap, arms curled gently around his neck, your forehead resting against his. And you breathe.

His chest rises beneath yours, shaky and tight. His hands are still in his lap, fists curled like he doesn’t know what to do with them,  like he doesn’t quite believe this is real, like one wrong move will send the whole thing crumbling to pieces.

So you start small.

You tilt your head and kiss the corner of his mouth. Once. Then again, slower this time, letting your lips linger against his skin.

His breath stutters. His lips part.

You kiss him properly next, slow, deep, but gentle, your mouth moving against his with no urgency, no push, just quiet devotion. Like he’s something sacred.

His hands twitch in his lap. He doesn’t lift them yet, but he doesn’t pull away either.

You murmur against his mouth, “Can I touch you?”

He swallows thickly. Nods.

You kiss him one more time, a promise, before you shift in his lap, your thighs bracketing his, and reach for the hem of his shirt.

The moment your fingers graze the fabric, he tenses.

You pause. You meet his eyes.

“I’ll stop any time you need me to,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

He holds your gaze. His throat bobs with a hard swallow. Then he nods again, slower this time. “I want you to.”

You offer a gentle smile. “Okay.”

You lift his shirt carefully, baring him inch by inch. You don’t rush. You kiss every strip of skin you uncover, the ridges of his ribs, the warm slope of his sternum, the sharp cut of his collarbone.

You take your time with it, as if mapping him out with your mouth, like you’re memorising every inch with intention.

When the shirt is high enough, he lifts his arms, stiffly, hesitantly and lets you pull it over his head. You toss it aside and look at him.

He’s bare from the waist up. All muscle and scar tissue, strength and survival. The room’s low light catches on the vibranium, glints over old wounds, highlights the long-healed lines across his chest and side.

You let your gaze roam.

He doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks away, jaw tight, breathing shallow.

You reach out, slow, deliberate, and place your palm against his chest. Right over his heart.

He flinches. Just a little. A twitch in his shoulder. A held breath.

But he doesn’t pull away. You lean in and kiss the skin just beside your hand.

“Is this okay?”

His voice is low and rough. “Yeah. Feels nice.”

You smile against his skin, then keep going.

Your mouth trails lower, painting a path down the plane of his chest. You kiss over his heart again, then rest your cheek there for a moment.

“Still beating,” you whisper, a soft marvel. 

You feel it stutter beneath your lips.

Your hands slide lower, down his abdomen, his skin warm, twitching under your fingers. You follow the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband, fingertips brushing gently, not demanding. Just exploring.

He exhales shakily, stomach tensing, hips shifting just slightly.

“There’s not a single part of you I don’t want to touch,” you murmur, kissing along his ribs.

He turns his face, like he’s trying to hide, like the intimacy of your words is too much.

“Hey,” you say softly. You reach up, cupping his jaw, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Let me say it. Let me mean it.”

His lips part like he might argue, but he doesn’t.

You rest your forehead against his.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So strong, You’ve been through hell and still came of it.”

His eyes flutter shut. His breath catches.

Your lips brush his softly, like reassurance. Then again.

And this time, when your hands slide down to the waistband of his sweats, he doesn’t flinch.

You look up at him. “Can I take these off?”

His voice is strained. “Yeah.”

You move slowly, tugging them down inch by inch, watching his face the entire time. He lifts his hips to help, barely, and you kiss the inside of his knee as you go. Then the other.

By the time you’ve got them off, he’s flushed all over, from his chest to his ears to the very tips of his fingers. And trembling.

His cock is hard and leaking, resting against his stomach. Big. Heavy. Throbbing.

He tries to close his legs out of instinct. Reflex.

But you shift forward between them and place your hands gently on the outside of his thighs.

“You’re doing so good,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”

His nod is jerky. “Just—don’t look too long.”

You blink. “Why not?”

He swallows hard. “’Cause you’ll know I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing.”

You smile, warm, never mocking.

“Baby,” you say gently, “I already know.”

You lean in, kissing the inside of his thigh, slowly, gently..

“But it’s not a problem,” you murmur, lips brushing his skin again. “It’s a privilege.”

His head drops back, his fists clench the blanket. You trail your mouth up his thigh, closer and closer, and then wrap your fingers around the base of his cock.

He jerks under your touch, breath catching sharp in his throat.

“Fuck—” His hips twitch. His mouth opens, like he’s trying to say something and can’t find the words.

You stroke him once, slow, deliberate, and his entire body shudders.

He’s flushed dark at the tip, leaking already.

“Nobody’s ever…” he starts, but doesn’t finish.

You look up. “Ever?”

He nods, barely. “Not like this.”

You smile. “Good.”

You stroke again, firmer now, and his jaw clenches, breath ragged.

Your thumb brushes over the tip, collecting the slick, and he whines, high, desperate, like he’s trying to hold everything in and failing miserably.

You kiss just below the head and he moans, low and broken.

“Holy shit—sweetheart, I’m not gonna—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You press a kiss to his hip. “That’s okay. That’s why we’ll take our time.”

You climb back into his lap, hand still wrapped around him, your other resting at his cheek to keep him grounded. He looks dazed, overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know whether to hold you or fall apart in your arms.

“Can I ride you?” you whisper.

His hands shoot to your hips like a lifeline. “Please,” he breathes. “I want you to. So bad.”

You guide him to your entrance, your slick soaking him already, and ease down, slow, careful, inch by inch — until he’s fully seated inside you.

Bucky’s head drops back, a strangled moan caught in his throat.

“F-fuck, baby—” he gasps. “Too much. Feels too—”

You don’t move.

You stay still in his lap, your hands on his chest, letting him feel you. Letting his body adjust. Letting the moment settle between you like something holy.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods, frantic. “Yeah. I—just give me a second.”

You wait. When his eyes open again, they’re soaked with emotion. Glassy and bare.

“You okay?” you ask.

“I think you’re killing me,” he says hoarsely. “But I don’t wanna stop.”

You smile.

Then you start to move.

Slow, gentle, rocking your hips, letting him feel everything, every squeeze, every inch, every slow drag of your walls around him.

His mouth falls open. He moans your name like a prayer.

“Feels too good,” he pants. “I’m not—fuck, I’m not gonna—”

You lean in, your forehead pressed to his.

“Then don’t,” you whisper. And he does.

With a choked cry, he spills inside you, body tensing, arms wrapping tight around you, hips bucking helplessly. His hands shake against your back as his breath catches in your hair.

He clings to you like he would fall apart without you.

And even after it’s over,  even after he’s finished, breathless and wrecked, he doesn’t let go.

He just holds you. And for the first time in years, he lets himself be held, too.

He’s still trembling.

You don’t move. You don’t shift or speak right away. You just stay where you are, wrapped around him, your body cradling his, the last aftershocks of his orgasm still echoing in the taut lines of his body.

His cock is still inside you, softening slowly. The stretch of him, the heat of him, the slick, overwhelming closeness of it all—it makes your heart ache in the gentlest way.

Your fingers stroke through his hair, trailing through the sweat-damp strands at the nape of his neck. Then down his spine. Slow, comforting passes, like you’re coaxing his body back into itself.

He clutches you tighter.

His arms are around your waist, strong and firm—not bruising, not panicked. But desperate. Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, this will all vanish. Like maybe none of this was real, and holding on to you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

You don’t pull away.

You let him hold you. Let him shake. Let his breath shudder against your neck while your hand keeps moving slowly down his back.

His face is buried against your throat, and when he finally speaks, it’s muffled—barely audible. Raw.

“I didn’t mean to finish so fast.”

Your heart breaks for him a little, even as your lips tilt into a soft smile.

You press a kiss to his temple—tender, grounding.

“I know.”

His voice is barely there. “I just—fuck, I couldn’t stop it. You felt so good. I couldn’t think."

You hum softly, stroking his hair again. “That’s kind of the point, baby.”

He lifts his head, just a little, pulling back enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are wide, glassy, dazed, those perfect cerulean eyes soft and unguarded, boyish, almost.

His cheeks are flushed. His hair’s a mess. His lips are kiss-swollen.

He looks completely ruined. Completely beautiful. Yours.

“But you didn’t—” he starts, then hesitates. His gaze drops. “You didn’t finish.”

You don’t stop smiling. There’s no hurt in it, no impatience, just quiet warmth.

“I wasn’t trying to,” you whisper, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “Tonight was about you.”

His brows pull together, like he doesn’t quite know how to process that.

“That’s not fair,” he mumbles. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You already do,” you murmur, your nose brushing his. “But if you really want to keep going…”

You pause deliberately, shifting your hips slightly.

Just enough for him to feel the movement, just enough to tease.

He gasps, high and sharp, his body jolting.

“…we can.”

His hands flex at your waist. His eyes flutter. His lips part like he’s trying to speak but can’t form a single thought.

“I’m still—,” he whispers, like it’s a warning. But there’s no hesitation in his tone. Only want.

“But I want it,” he adds. “I want you.”

You kiss him again, slow and deep, and begin to move. Barely. Just a gentle roll of your hips, enough to stir friction between your bodies again.

He moans into your mouth, soft and aching.

You rock slowly, dragging your walls against his still-sensitive cock. He twitches inside you, starting to thicken again already. It’s slow, but unmistakable.

“Okay?” you whisper.

He nods frantically, hands gripping your waist like he’s drowning in sensation. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just—shit. I’ve never… I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

You smile against his jaw. “You wanna come again for me?”

His moan is barely a sound. His eyes flutter shut.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Fuck, yes. Please—”

You tighten your thighs and roll your hips again, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

“Such good manners,” you whisper, kissing his throat. “So sweet for me.”

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. You start to circle, slow, wet, just enough pressure to build your own heat.

He watches you.

Like you’re made of stars, like he’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Touch me,” you murmur. “Please, Bucky. I want your hands on me.”

It’s the only encouragement he needs.

His hands move slowly, softly, trembling,  sliding up your sides, grazing your ribs, cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, and you moan, arching into his touch.

The sound makes him groan, deep and wrecked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ perfect, baby—can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

His voice breaks on the last word.

You’re slick around him now, your arousal mixing with the mess from earlier. Every slow rock of your hips has him thickening more, twitching inside you, inch by inch.

His thighs are shaking. His jaw clenches.

“Feels so good,” he whines. “I don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna come yet. Wanna feel you forever.”

You ride him harder now, the heat in your belly rising faster.

“You feel that?” you gasp. “How close I am?”

His hands tighten on your hips. His breath turns ragged.

“Please—please come around me, sweetheart—need to feel it—need to feel you—”

You bury your face in his neck. And let go.

Your whole body seizes around him, a white-hot wave crashing through you, stealing your breath, your balance, your thoughts. Your moan is broken, helpless, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your walls clamp down hard around him.

And that’s all it takes.

He thrusts up once. Then again. Deep, desperate. A cry tearing from his throat as he comes again, shaking, gasping, flooding you with warmth.

His arms wrap tight around you.

He holds you close. Close enough to feel your heartbeat thunder against his. Close enough that the tremors in your bodies blur together, indistinguishable.

This time, his grip is softer. Still strong, but different.

Not desperate. Tender.

His hand strokes up your spine. His lips press to your temple, then your hair, then your jaw. Like he can’t get close enough.

You stay there, wrapped around each other, skin to skin, breath mingled and unsteady and you don’t rush to move.

Not yet.

“Jesus,” he whispers eventually, voice raw. “What the fuck just happened?”

You laugh softly, breathless, dazed. “That was called good sex,.”

He groans into your neck. “That was more than good. That was—fuck. That was divine.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his hair.

You collapse gently against his chest, boneless and warm, and he doesn’t let go. His arms stay around you, wrapped like a shield, like a promise.

Neither of you move for a long time. There’s nothing left to prove. Nothing to say.

Just the slow hum of your heartbeats and the safe, sacred space you’ve made between the two of you.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Bucky feels wanted.

And safe. And home.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you did, drop a comment or a reblog! thank you my loves, your support means the world to me! <3333333

[maskedbyghost]

cw: friends with benefits, angst, smut, mild possessiveness

It was supposed to be simple. That’s the part that pisses you off the most when you think about it. Because you weren’t trying to fall in love. You didn’t want a relationship, not after the last one. You were still a little bit fucked up from it, if you’re being honest. Still not sleeping great. Still carrying all that heavy stuff around that no one really talks about after a breakup. And then he showed up.

Simon.

You didn’t even like him that much at first. He was quiet, and kind of a dick honestly. Always had this hard look on his face like he didn’t care about anything. But then again, maybe that’s why you kept looking. He didn’t flirt with you like the other guys did. He didn’t compliment you or joke around. He just stared sometimes. Stared like he knew things about you that you hadn’t even said out loud yet.

And somehow, that made you feel safe. In a really stupid kind of way.

He didn’t ask you questions. You could sit next to him and say nothing, and he wouldn’t try to fix you. He’d just… be there. And that made it easier. Being around him felt like pressing pause on everything in your head.

You both agreed it would just be sex. That’s all. You said it first. Told him straight up you weren’t in the place for anything real, and he just shrugged like it didn’t make a difference either way. He wasn’t looking for more, either. No expectations, no feelings, no “what are we” conversations.

And in the beginning, that actually worked. You’d hook up after long days, or when you were lonely, or when you just needed to feel something. He’d come over late, sometimes not say more than a few words, and still end up with his mouth between your legs like he belonged there. He was rough, kind of mean about it, but it made your head go quiet, and that’s all you wanted. You didn’t need soft. You just needed to forget.

And Simon was really good at helping you forget.

It was simple, for a while at least. No cuddling, no texting unless one of you wanted something, no sleeping over unless it was late, and neither of you felt like getting up. You never kissed him unless it was during sex, he never called you baby, and you never touched his face.

But then, little things started to change. He’d linger longer after, or light your cigarette for you without saying anything. You started to recognize the sound of his boots on your stairs. And sometimes, he’d show up without texting first, but you wouldn’t mind.

You told yourself it was fine. You still weren’t asking for anything. You weren’t falling.... You weren’t hoping.

Until one day you were. And it was too late.

Because Simon? He never changed the deal. He still kept his walls up, still kept everything at arm’s length, and still fucked you like you were just a warm body and not someone who looked at him like he hung the moon.

And the worst part? You let him.

You didn’t talk much during sex. It was just a thing you both did, like it was part of the routine. Sometimes it was at his place, sometimes yours. Sometimes after a night out when you were drunk and touchy and didn’t want to sleep alone. You’d cling to his arm, pull him into a dark corner, whisper something like “Come back with me,” and he always would. He’d follow you home without hesitation.

He never smiled during it, never said sweet things, nor asked what you liked. It was like flipping a switch, one second he was just standing there, and the next his hand was in your hair and he was pushing you down on the bed without saying a word. No soft kisses. Just heavy hands and rough thrusts and that low sound he’d make when you moaned his name, like he hated how much he liked it.

He was rough in a way that made your whole body ache after. Hands on your throat, teeth on your skin. Sometimes he’d grab your face, push it into the pillow so hard it felt like he wanted to fuck you straight through it. His voice was always low, wrecked, barely there, like he was losing his mind but trying not to show it. And when he came, he’d bury himself so deep and still not stop moving, chasing something that never felt like enough.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t sweet. But god, it felt good.

Too good.

You weren’t supposed to want someone like that. You weren’t supposed to need it like that. But every time he fucked you like you were the only thing left keeping him grounded, it made your chest hurt in a way you didn’t want to admit.

And you liked it, you liked it even when it made you feel worse after.

You didn’t fall for him all at once. It happened slowly and stupidly. In the kind of way where you didn’t even notice it at first, because you were too busy pretending it was still casual.

It was little stuff. Like how he always stood behind you in a crowd, not touching you or anything, just close enough that you could feel him, like a wall at your back. Or how he’d rest his hand on your lower back when you crossed the street, not saying a word, not even looking at you. Just doing it like it was natural. Like he cared without meaning to.

Sometimes, he stayed the night. Not every time, or often enough for it to mean something, but still it happened. He never cuddled, never reached for you after. He would just lay there, breathing heavily like he was thinking too loud. He didn’t sleep much, and you didn’t either. You’d stare at the ceiling, both of you pretending the silence didn’t feel like it was screaming.

You wanted to believe that meant something. That even if he couldn’t say it, he felt something. That he kept coming back because he needed you, not just your body. You started reaching for him more, after, during, even before. Just little touches. A kiss on the cheek, a hand on his chest, or a soft press of your lips when he was still inside you.

But the more you gave, the more he pulled back. Like he could feel you slipping, and it scared him. Like he already knew where this was headed and was trying to stop it before it got worse.

He started fucking you harder when you tried to kiss him slow. Rougher, meaner, almost. Like he was trying to shove the feelings out of both of you. Like he thought if he could just fuck the softness out of it, it would go back to the way it was.

And he’d leave faster. No lingering, talking, or sitting on the edge of the bed while you pulled on your shirt. He’d zip up his hoodie, say something stupid like “I’ll see you around,” and disappear like it didn’t mean anything.

But it meant something to you. And you think, deep down, it meant something to him, too.

He just didn’t know what to do with it. So he did what he always did... he ran.

That night felt different before anything even started. You don’t know how to explain it exactly. It was quiet, but not the good kind. Not the comfortable kind. Just this weird silence sitting between you like something waiting to be said. You didn’t say it, of course. You never did. He was already pulling your shirt off, already undoing his belt, already pushing you back like it was routine.

And it was. That was the thing. It had become routine.

But you couldn’t keep doing it like this anymore. You were tired. Tired of feeling used even when he wasn’t trying to use you. Tired of pretending it didn’t matter that he never looked at you when he came. Tired of giving everything and getting nothing back.

So you tried something different.

You didn’t moan for him the way he liked. Didn’t arch your back or scratch at his shoulders or whisper how good he felt. You just… touched his face. Softly. Like it was something you’d been wanting to do for a long time but were scared he’d push you away.

Your fingers brushed his cheek. Your thumb barely touched the scar near his jaw, and you just said, “Slow down.”

That was it. Just two words. And he snapped.

His hand went around your throat so fast it made your breath catch. His other hand grabbed your wrists, shoved them into the pillow, and held them there like you’d done something wrong. And then he started fucking you harder, rougher. Like he was trying to erase what you’d just done.

You didn’t say anything, couldn’t. His hips were slamming into you like he was mad, but not at you. Like he was mad at himself. Or maybe the world. Or maybe just the way your voice sounded when you asked for more than he could give.

“Don’t,” he growled into your neck, and his voice didn’t even sound like him. It sounded like someone scared.

You didn’t cry. Not right then.

You just lay there and took it. Let him fuck you like he always did, let him pretend it didn’t mean anything, even though it did. You felt it, how desperate it was, how shaky his breath was when he finally finished, how his hands didn’t let go even when it was over.

But you knew. You finally knew.

He couldn’t love you. Not the way you wanted. Not the way you needed.

And something deep in your chest cracked open. Just enough to let the cold in.

You didn’t say a word after. Just rolled over when he got up. Pulled the blanket up to your chest and stared at the wall, blinking too fast, trying not to let the tears win.

And he left like nothing happened.

But everything had.

The next time you saw him, you already knew it would be the last. It felt different the second you let him in, like there was something in the air that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. You didn’t smile, he didn’t kiss you. You just walked back into your room in silence, still wearing the oversized shirt you’d borrowed from him weeks ago, the one you never meant to keep, the one that smelled like him no matter how many times you washed it, and you stood there with your arms crossed like you were trying to hold yourself together, like saying what you were about to say would physically hurt.

And it did.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, and your voice came out smaller than you wanted it to. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did, if you saw the way he blinked at you, or the way his jaw clenched, or the way he didn’t even flinch like he saw this coming, it would break you in half. So you stared at the floor, or the wall, or anywhere but him, and you just said it. Because if you didn’t say it now, you never would.

He didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t ask why. He just sat down slowly on the edge of your bed, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed, and the rise and fall of his chest was shaky, like he couldn’t catch his breath, like your words had knocked the wind out of him but he was too proud to show it.

“I knew this would happen,” he said finally, and his voice wasn’t cold, it wasn’t empty—it was just tired. Like he was mad at himself. “Eventually.”

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and you could feel your throat starting to close up, feel the sting building behind your eyes, and your whole body felt heavy. “I wanted to pretend it wouldn’t,” you whispered, your hands twisting in the hem of his shirt, your voice cracking even though you were trying to stay calm, “but I can’t. I love you. And you don’t—or you won’t. And I can’t keep asking for something you’re scared to give.”

That made him look up.

His face was blank at first; he was trying to process it, trying to understand how it had gotten to this point, even though you both knew exactly how. And then he stood, slowly, like he was afraid too sudden a move would scare you off, and he walked toward you with that careful look he only got when he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing but was still trying anyway.

And then he kissed you.

Soft, at first, because he wasn’t sure if you’d let him. Maybe he thought you’d push him away. But you didn’t. You kissed him back even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. You let him press you into the wall, let his hands slide up under the shirt that technically wasn’t his anymore, let his mouth find your neck, your collarbone, your lips again, and none of it felt like the usual heat, it just felt sad and desperate.

You let him fuck you because you knew this was the last time. You let him take you to bed and pull your underwear down and slide inside like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

His hands were rough like always, his teeth scraped your skin, his thrusts were deep, a little too fast, a little too rough—but there was a shakiness in the way he held you, like maybe he already hated himself for letting it get to this point. He didn’t know how to say any of the things you needed to hear, so he fucked you instead.

And then, just when you thought that was all it was going to be—just another night, just another goodbye—he slowed down.

He stayed buried inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, and he didn’t move. Just held you there, skin to skin, and everything about him felt different all of a sudden... softer... scared.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, so quiet it almost didn’t sound like him.

Your chest tightened, and your voice broke when you tried to answer. “Then why didn’t you—”

“Because if I let myself love you, I’d lose you anyway,” he said, and his voice was raw now. “You’d wake up one day and realise I’m not enough. That I can’t be what you need. That you deserve better than someone like me. Someone who’s barely hanging on. Someone who doesn’t know how to hold you without wondering if he’s gonna fuck it all up.”

You touched his face slowly. Like you were afraid he’d flinch away. But he didn’t. He let you, for the first time, he really let you.

“I don’t want someone else,” you whispered, and your thumb brushed his cheek, and your eyes were wet even though you were trying not to fall apart. “I wanted you. I still do.”

And when he started to move again, it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow and deep. Like he was trying to give you everything he’d held back for so long. His hands ran over your body like he was learning it all over again. His lips pressed to your shoulder, your jaw, your mouth. He looked at you the whole time, like he didn’t want to forget your face.

“I love you,” he said, and his voice shook, and his thrusts stayed steady, “I love you, I love you....fuck, I love you.”

You cried into his kiss. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your body trembled as he whispered all the stupid, sweet things he never let himself say before. You’re mine. I’ll do better. I need you. Please don’t leave.

And then, somewhere in the middle of it, somewhere between your broken sobs and his desperate kisses, he grabbed you tight, pulled you against him, and whispered it like a promise, like a threat, like a man who was finally ready to fight for something.

“Fuck that,” he growled, his voice suddenly shaking with something angry and scared and real. “You’re not leaving me. You’re mine. I don’t care how bad I am at this. I’m not letting you go.”

You were still crying. He was still shaking. And everything was still so goddamn complicated.

But he stayed, and that was a start.

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

idk what this is honestly ...

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world @ruleroftides @rose37373

[teaboot]

"I do not think theft is a good idea. Especially dumb shit like makeup."

Expand on that, king. (asked sincerely)

Having been inundated with the "shoplifting is fucking awesome" attitude of Tumblr for so many years, I'd like to hear your perspective.

I’m in a pretty privileged situation in that very few of my necessities are so inaccessible that I HAVE to steal, but knowing how easy it is to get caught and not know it until it’s too late and knowing how goddamn hard it is to get a job with a criminal record in my part of the world, I genuinely do not think it is a good idea to risk a criminal record for, say, lip gloss, or Cheetos, or a bottle of Diet Coke.

If you’re literally starving, or have kids you’re raising without support, or are on disability, and you get caught stealing food or medicine or school supplies, AT LEAST if you get caught and get sent to court you can say “I needed these things, I was desperate” and, seeing that you have no history and otherwise abide by the law, the judge MAY choose not to go forwards and drop charges and let you go with a warning.

If you go to court and a judge reads the evidence and says “you repeatedly stole potato chips and mascara”, what are you gonna say? “I wanted it?” When they see homeless people and addicts and single parents and felons and abuse survivors all day? They’re going to think you’re a hooligan and an idiot and if you DON’T act remorseful there’s a good chance they’re going to think you need a lesson.

or- OR- say you have a record for stealing small shit. And you get a warning. And then one day you REALLY REALLY DO need something desperately and you break the law. You’ve used up your warning, and you’re fucked.

It just… forget big business, forget capitalism, and just look at how the system operates. Big stores spend MILLIONS OF DOLLARS to catch shoplifters. They WILL SPOT YOU EVENTUALLY, and they might not even arrest you straight away (see Target’s MO, Jesus Christ).

So yeah, no, from a purely practical perspective? It seems dumb as hell to pocket shit I do not need and risk my entire future on… what, $10?

It’s like going to a party in the peak of health and just choosing to do heroin for the fun of it.

like. WHY

[evelhak]

I don't go here, have no concept of this character and don't want to imagine myself with characters so I don't know why I did this but damn that description kinda hits, I do need that sometimes, in friendship too. 😅😅

₊·͟͟͞͞➳❥ i made an uquiz where i sent you on a blind date with a haikyuu character and if you're reading this you're obliged to take it and share your result!! also rate my matchmaking service 5/5 ✭ and tell your grandma about it please thank you

[flowersforbucky]

means i care

joaquín torres x reader

"You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn't beating when I pulled you from that water."

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, idiots in love, pining, enhanced!reader with energy manipulation powers, canon level injuries, some angst, fluff, no use of y/n, reader has she/her pronouns, pov switches

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“You know, if we don't succeed here, we'll be looking at World War III. I could use a little extra good luck. If you know what I'm sayin’.”

You shift your gaze from the Indian Ocean outside of the jet's window to the man sitting beside you. At first, you question whether or not you heard him correctly. Then, you see the sly smirk on his lips and the glimmer of mischief in his brown eyes and you realize that you had, in fact, heard him correctly.

If you had any doubt about what he meant by a little extra good luck, the look on his face makes it abundantly clear.

Your eyes flicker to his lips for a split-second before you look back out to the endless expanse of blue water surrounding you. God knows that if you stare at him for a moment too long, you might just be weak enough to give in.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come dangerously close.

“Good luck, huh? I hope you’ve got a four-leaf clover or a rabbit’s foot stashed somewhere in that suit of yours, then.”

He laughs. The sound fills the jet and for a second, you forget where you are and what all is on the line.

“A thousand four-leaf clovers wouldn’t give me a fraction of the good luck that I’d get from a kis—”

“Landing in five!” Sam calls, effectively breaking the tension in the air. You doubt that it was intentional, but you’re thankful for the interruption nonetheless. As if the list of things on your mind isn’t already a mile long – the last thing you need to add to it right now is kissing Joaquín.

You should be used to it – the flirting and teasing. He hasn’t held back since the moment you met. First, you had assumed it’s just how he is – that he says the same things to any halfway decent looking girl in his age bracket.

Sam had insisted that’s not the case.

Still, past relationship trauma had left you unable to believe that he was being genuine –and unable to believe that any good could come from returning his flirtatious sentiments. Best case scenario, you hook up and relieve the tension that’s been brewing between you for months, things fizzle, and you have to continue to work together while attempting to ignore any awkwardness. Worst case scenario, you let yourself completely fall for him and someone inevitably gets hurt.

This line of work, this lifestyle – it doesn’t mesh well with romantic relationships. You’ve learned that lesson the hard way, a few times over.

So, despite the fact that you think he’s annoyingly attractive, you brush off the compliments and cheesy one-liners. You look for every excuse when he tries to spend time with you outside of work and missions, never letting yourself give in even when every fiber of your being is dying to do so.

Like right now. He sits beside you, his arm and thigh brushing against yours. Even through his thick, heavy gear, it sends a shiver up your spine. You resist the urge to grab his hand in yours and tell him that you and Sam have this handled if he wants to help from the sidelines.

You can hear his response as clear as day in your mind. “Keep to the sidelines? And let you and Sam have all the fun? Pshhh. You wish.”

You bite your tongue, afraid to let him know just how much you care. You might not let it show, but you’re more worried for his safety than you are your own.

There’s no chance of him staying on the base while you and Sam potentially risk your lives. But maybe you can at least give him an incentive to keep himself alive.

Joaquín starts to stand when you place a hand on his arm. He freezes, an almost hopeful expression on his face as he looks at you expectantly.

“Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Are you listening to a word I say?”

Sam’s voice snaps you out of your trance. You blink rapidly, lubricating your eyes that had been locked on a beeping monitor for an embarrassing amount of time.

“No,” you answer honestly. You glance at him for a brief moment before your eyes are back on the sleeping body a few feet away from you. “Not really. Sorry. What did you say?”

He sighs. He’s trying his hardest to not let it show, but you know that he’s getting a little annoyed with you.

You can’t really find the energy to care. You’re a little annoyed with him, too. He won’t stop tapping his fucking foot against the linoleum floor and the whole room still smells like the Chinese take-out he’d eaten hours ago.

Your stomach growls. Maybe you’re just hangry.

“I said you need to go home,” Sam says in an even tone. “Get a few hours of sleep, take a shower. Eat something that didn’t come out of a vending machine.”

Over the last four days, you’ve spent more time in this hospital room than your own apartment. You’ve only left to go home long enough to shower every other day, and to get gas stations snacks and coffee on occasion. The longest you’d been away from Joaquín’s bedside was yesterday morning, when you went to the Target down the road to put together a get well soon basket for when he wakes up.

Most guests would be asked to leave after standard visiting hours, but you suppose working with Captain America does come with some perks. You suppose it also helps that you were the one who pulled Joaquín from the ocean, flew him to safety, and restarted his heart with your powers while you waited on the emergency medical team to get to you on Celestial Island.

Maybe the hospital staff pities or – or maybe they’re a little scared of you. Either is fine, as long as you aren’t asked to leave for an extended period of time.

You’re hungry, and you need to shower, and a few hours of sleep in an actual bed certainly wouldn’t hurt. But the thought of not being here when he wakes up…

“I’ll call you,” Sam says, as if reading your mind. “I swear. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll let you know.”

You don’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you just nod. You’ve somehow managed to refrain from crying up until this point, but you’re running on a few hours of sleep and it’s starting to get to you.

Despite the various wounds and bruising across his body, he looks peaceful in his sleep. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and you feel yourself relax at the visual reminder that he’s okay. He’s resting, and healing, and he’ll wake when his body is ready.

“Okay,” you whisper as you stand up from the scratchy, old recliner that you have been glued to for the majority of the last few days. “You call me as soon as he opens his eyes.”

Before leaving, you walk to the side of his bed. On the table next to him sits a vase of wildflowers that have already started to wilt, and the basket that you had brought, full of some of his favorite things – beef jerky, Takis, gummy bears – as well as a few personal care items that may be of use for the duration of his hospital stay after waking up – deodorant, a toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste, and the biggest stainless steel tumbler that you could find.

In the middle of the basket sits a small, plush falcon. You hadn’t even been looking for it when it caught your eye in the store, but you immediately knew you had to get it for him. Seeing it had felt like a sign that everything is going to be okay.

You remove the stuffed bird from the basket and tuck it between his side and his arm before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to the center of his forehead. It’s the first time you’ve touched him since the accident, and you’re reluctant to pull away.

Your eyes sting with all of the emotions that you’ve been holding inside for days. You don’t look back at Sam or say another word as you walk out of the room, hoping with everything in you that the next time you walk into this room, he greets you with one of his obnoxiously perfect smiles and a corny pick-up line.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first thing Joaquín hears is the low, repetitive beeping of a monitor. When he opens his eyes, he’s momentarily blinded by violent, early morning sunlight creeping through the blind slats.

“Well, well, well. How nice of you to decide to join the living today, Sleeping Beauty.”

He recognizes Sam’s voice a second before he sees him. Slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, he looks like he could use some sleep, himself.

All at once, images of the moments leading up to him plummeting into the ocean come flooding back. He remembers Sam yelling at him to back off from the last missile, the missile firing right at him, and then nose-diving into the ocean as you shriek his name.

You.

His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking for any sign of you. His heartrate spikes on the monitor. Sam jumps up, rushing over to his side.

“What – where is she – is she okay?”

God, his throat is painfully dry. How long has he been unconscious?

“Easy, easy,” Sam soothes as he takes a seat at the foot of the hospital bed. “She is fine. She was unharmed and has hardly left your side in five days. It was like pulling teeth just to convince her to go home for the night. Made me promise to call her the second you woke up.”

At first, he assumes Sam is just messing with him. You have hardly left his side? You, the same person who has rejected every one of his advances for nearly a year?

“You’re being serious? She’s been here?” He asks in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam exhales. “She’s been a mess, man. I don’t know how much you remember, but…” He trails off, avoiding Joaquín’s gaze.

“She’s the one who pulled you from that water. By the time she flew you somewhere safe, you weren’t breathing. She had to restart your heart with her powers until the medical team got to you.”

He can tell by Sam’s demeanor that he isn’t joking around, but he still struggles to wrap his head around it all. He had fucking died? His heart stopped, and you’re the reason that he’s alive? And you stayed with him while he’s been recovering?

Then, he remembers the last words you said to him before arriving on Celestial Island.

Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?

He isn’t sure if you really spoke those words, or if it’s some false memory that his subconscious conjured to keep him holding on while on the brink of death.

If it’s the latter, it worked. If it’s the former, and you really did say that, he supposes that offer is probably off the table since he technically did die.

Damn it.

Joaquín attempts to sit up and becomes aware of two things at once – he feels like he has been repeatedly ran over by a bus, and there's something fuzzy tickling his arm.

“What the hell…”

He picks up the small, stuffed falcon and can’t help but smile at it. “You shouldn’t have,” he chuckles, tossing the bird at Sam.

He catches it, smirking. “Oh, I didn’t.”

Sam gestures towards the table beside Joaquín. He follows his gaze, noticing the dying flowers and basket stuffed full of various snacks and self-care items. Whoever chose the contents of the basket, knows him well. He could live off of beef jerky if he had to, and gummy bears are his favorite.

“Who..?” Joaquín asks, trying not to get his hopes up that it could be from the person he most wants it to be from – the person who apparently saved his life.

“Take a guess,” Sam jabs as he tosses the stuffed animal back to Joaquín.

For a second, he thinks his heart just might stop again. He pictures you picking out the items and he has to shake his head to keep himself from grinning too big.

“Man, if I knew that all I had to do was die to get her attention, I would’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner.”

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Just don’t go making a habit of it, okay? I don’t know if she would forgive you if you did it again.”

Sam then pulls out his cell phone, excusing himself from the room to give you a call and to get Joaquin’s nurse. Once he’s alone, Joaquín fights against all of the stiffness in his body to reach for the basket sitting on the bedside table. In addition to all of the other goodies, there’s a card tucked between a stick of Old Spice deodorant and a bag of Takis.

It isn’t in an envelope. He instantly snorts at the image on the front of the card – it’s a cartoon dog wearing a cone collar with a dejected expression. In bold print, it reads: At least you don’t have to wear a cone.

He opens the card, and immediately recognizes your handwriting.

I specifically remember asking you to not die. Guess you were right about that good luck kiss, after all. I'll remember that next time.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The simultaneous dread and relief that you feel when you see Sam’s name pop up on your phone can’t be described in words. Dread at the mere possibility of bad news. Relief that it could be what you’ve been hoping to hear for days.

As soon as you hear him say that Joaquín is awake, you’re jumping out of bed at the ass crack of dawn. You don’t think about taking the time to eat any breakfast or even make yourself a cup of coffee – you just throw on some clean clothes, brush your teeth, and you’re out the door.

The short drive to the hospital is spent talking to yourself about what you're even going to say to him. How are things supposed to just go back to normal between the two of after something like this? After it felt like your heart stopped when his did? Do you even want things to go back to normal?

You knew you’d feel relieved to see him awake, but you don’t expect the overwhelming rush of emotions that comes over you as soon as you hear his voice murmur your name.

He's sitting up in his bed, holding the stuffed falcon that you’d given him and smiling at you like you hung the moon and stars as soon as you walk through the door.

That’s when you know the answer to your question – no, you don’t want things to go back to normal between you. With the way that you feel your heart in your throat, you don't think that’s a possibility, anyway.

“This little guy was a nice surprise to wake up to, you know. Kind of wish it had been you, but he’s cute, too.”

You no longer attempt to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over for the last five days. You sit on the edge of his bed, directly beside his thigh and meagerly wipe the teardrops that leak down both of your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” His demeanor completely shifts when he realizes that you’re crying. He leans in closer and pulls you to him. You sob against his chest, and he runs a large hand up and down your back. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here. It's gonna take more than a missile or two to take me out.”

You nod against his chest, but don’t pull away. He continues to massage your back as you attempt to calm down, focusing on the feeling of him against you. When you finally lean back, he wipes a lingering tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn’t beating when I pulled you from that water.”

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

You exhale, finally letting yourself return his cheeky grin. The teasing remark makes you feel the happiest you have in days.

“Leave it to you to find a way to flirt when we are having a conversation about your death.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, his expression suddenly turning more serious. “I do have a question, though.”

You tilt your head in curiosity.

“When you brought me back to life, was it like a mouth to mouth type thing? Or..?”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him back against his pillows. He cackles, his cheeks turning pink. He pulls you back to him, this time even closer than before. You can smell mint on his breath from the toothpaste you’d put in his get well soon basket.

“No. Thought I’d save that for when you’re awake.”

He places his hands on your sides, the light touches sending a thrill through you. The normally chilly hospital room suddenly feels a whole lot warmer.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. “I don’t want you to think that you.. owe me anything, or have to kiss me just because of what happened—”

You’re shaking your head before he finishes speaking.

“Joaquín,” you interrupt him softly. “I’ve been stupid. So, so stupid and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that it took something like this for me to open my eyes to what’s been right in front of me this whole time. I knew that if I let myself want more, if I let myself give in, that’d be it for me. And that terrified me. But I don’t care anymore. I’m more terrified of never getting the chance to—”

Suddenly, his hands move from your hips to either side of your face. He pulls you the remainder of the short distance to him, and then his lips are against yours; effectively ending your rambling.

One of your hands cups the nape of his neck, your fingers intertwined in his soft curls. His tongue ghosts along your bottom lip and you eagerly part them for him. The sounds from various machines and the voices out in the hallway all fade to white noise as he moves his lips with yours.

He's gentle. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s still relatively bedridden, but he touches you like he’s touching fine, breakable China. There’s an underlying urgency, like he’s scared he’s dreaming and wants to savor this as much as possible before he opens his eyes.

You pull away with a gentle tug of his bottom lip between your teeth. He doesn’t drop his hands from caressing your face, and your rest your forehead against his, basking in the afterglow of a kiss long overdue.

“Damn,” he breathes. “Please tell me we can do that again, minus all of the months of rejection and the close call with death.”

You laugh. “I can promise you no more rejection, but you have to promise me no more close calls with death.”

A gentle stroke of his thumb across your cheekbone sends goosebumps down your spine. “I promise, mi vida. I’ve been waiting too long for this. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

mi vida: spanish for "my life"

thank you so much for reading!!! as always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[saintormentor]

p u s s y t r a i n i n g c . s

i n w h i c h . . . chris comes home frustrated, and the only thing on his mind is fucking the anger away.

w a r n i n g s . . . smut, p in v, fem receiving oral, male receiving oral, pressuring, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, gagging, crying, creampie, aftercare, pussy spanking, rough language and handling, derogatory language (slut, whore, etc.)

it was unusual for chris to be annoyed with you, let alone be annoyed by your sounds. it was long day. it was clear in the sharp set of his jaw, the stubble decorating his cheekbones, and mostly the way his fingers twitched. oh, not to mention he nearly slammed the apartment door off its hinges. he was itching to take his anger out on something, and you sitting there all pretty drew in his attention.

it made your stomach turn—not with fear, but with a kind of electricity. because even though chris was quiet when he was angry, there was a weight to it. a pressure. like the air shifted. like your body instinctively braced, not because you thought he’d hurt you, but because you knew exactly what he needed.

he didn’t say hi when he walked in. didn’t kiss you like he usually did. just kicked his shoes off with a grunt and tossed his keys onto the counter so hard they skidded. his chest was rising fast. he paced once, twice, before his eyes cut to you on the couch like you were the one thing in the room still breathing too calmly.

you blinked up at him, lips parted, legs tucked underneath you, the blanket slipping off your shoulder.

“gonna look at m’like that?” his voice was low. rough. dangerous in a way that made heat pool in your stomach.

you swallowed. “like what?”

his jaw ticked. “like you want me to fuck y’dumb.”

your breath caught.

then—like a switch—he was walking toward you, slow but certain. a shadow of something wild in his eyes.

you didn’t move. couldn’t. didn’t want to.

“long fuckin’ day,” he muttered, stopping just in front of you. his hand slid into your hair, gentle for half a second before gripping tighter. “and you’re sittin’ here making those little sounds like you don’t know what that does to me.”

your thighs clenched. “i didn’t mean—”

“yeah, you did,” he snapped. but not angry with you. angry at everything else. and needing you to fix it.

he pushed the blanket off you fully, let his eyes drag over your bare legs, the tank top you wore without a bra, the softness of your skin. he exhaled like it hurt to hold back.

“you just gonna sit there,” he whispered, “or you gonna help me feel better?”

you bit your lip, heart pounding. “what do you want me to do?”

his answer was immediate. raw.

“get on y’knees.”

and you did—slowly, letting him see the way you obeyed, the way you ached to be good for him. he watched you, his hands fisting at his sides, chest heaving. his hoodie fell to the floor. the zipper hit the tile. his belt followed.

he stepped closer. tilted your chin up with two fingers. “open your mouth,” he breathed.

he paused his movements, brushing his thumb against your lips, which instinctively wrapped around it. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

you stayed still, let him press his thumb deeper until it brushed the back of your throat, until tears pricked in your lashes and your thighs rubbed together because the helplessness—the need—was already simmering through you.

then, finally, he undid his jeans.

you heard the clink of the buckle, the sharp hiss of fabric dragged down fast. his cock was already hard, flushed at the tip, and when he wrapped one hand around the base and stroked, just once, you could see the tension ripple down his forearm like he was barely holding it together.

“gonna let me use your mouth, baby?” he rasped, voice darker now. “i don’t even wanna think about today.”

you nodded, breath shaky, lips parting again.

he didn’t ask again. didn’t hesitate.

the first thrust was shallow—just the head, just enough to feel your lips wrap tight around him, to hear the wet click of spit when he pulled back. but the second? deeper. his hand cradled the back of your head and he fed it to you inch by inch, slow and deliberate. punishing in its control.

“that’s it,” he grunted, watching your eyes. “take it. open up for me.”

you hollowed your cheeks, let him slide deeper, let your tongue flatten underneath. he groaned, low and guttural, head tipping back for a split second before he looked down again, eyes locked on yours.

your hands gripped his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the denim around his knees. spit was already beginning to drip down your chin, and he fucking loved it—his hips rolled forward, just once, deeper than before, until you gagged around him.

“fuck, baby—just like that. let me use you.”

he didn’t stop.

he fucked your mouth like he needed it. like it was therapy. rough, rhythmic thrusts that made your eyes tear up and your core ache with every single pass of his cock over your tongue. you could hear yourself—wet, obscene sounds filling the quiet apartment along with his ragged breath and the muttered curses he kept spitting through clenched teeth.

“such a pretty little mouth. made to suck cock, huh?” he groaned.

you whimpered around him—both from the intensity and the way your thighs were soaked now, squirming for relief. and he noticed.

he pulled back suddenly, letting his cock slide free with a thick, wet sound. a string of spit stayed connected between you, and he wiped it away with his thumb, smearing it across your bottom lip like it was something holy.

you were gasping, flushed, mouth swollen. and still so fucking needy.

“get on the couch,” he said. “spread your legs. i’m not done with you.”

you scrambled back onto the couch, heart racing, legs shaking a little as you reclined against the cushions. chris’s eyes never left you—dark and glassy, like he was barely hanging on.

you pulled your tank top off first. no bra. his gaze dragged over your chest, the way your nipples were already hard from how wrecked he’d gotten you with just his voice and the weight of him in your mouth. he looked possessed.

“shorts too,” he muttered. “now.”

you shimmied them down, no underwear beneath. he groaned when he saw the slick mess between your thighs—your folds glistening, the soft little quiver in your thighs as they spread wider, like your body was begging for him.

“jesus christ,” he whispered, dragging a hand down his face before climbing between your legs on the couch. “you dripping for me already, baby? all that from sucking my cock?”

you nodded, breathless. “please—chris, i need—”

but you didn’t get to finish. because his mouth was on you.

no teasing. no warning. he dove in like he was starved, tongue dragging a thick stripe up your slit before his lips closed around your clit and sucked hard enough to make your whole body jolt. your back arched off the couch, a desperate cry ripping from your throat as your fingers shot into his hair, holding on.

he groaned into you—deep and filthy—as he licked, sucked, devoured you like he was mad about it. like tasting you was the only thing anchoring him after a shit day. and when he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, your thighs snapped around his head like instinct.

“fuck—chris, please—”

“shut up.” he didn’t stop. didn’t even slow. his fingers fucked into you fast and deep while his tongue circled your clit in tight, hungry patterns. you could hear the slick sounds between your legs, feel the obscene heat building in your gut, your whole body trembling under the force of it.

you were gonna come. and he knew it.

he pulled back just enough to speak—his mouth shiny, chin wet, voice low and raw.

“you gonna come for me, baby? on my fuckin’ face?”

“yes,” you gasped. “yes, chris—please, i’m gonna—”

“then fuckin’ come.”

and you did. hard.

your legs locked around his head, your body convulsing with it, loud and desperate and messy as everything cracked open inside you. he didn’t stop until you were twitching, whimpering, pulling at his hair to make him stop because it was too much.

but even then—he didn’t give you a break.

he climbed up your body, still hard, still leaking. lined himself up and looked at you like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“you want me to fuck you now?” he rasped.

you nodded, dazed, soaked, spent but aching for more. “please.”

and then he was inside you.

no condom. no pause. just a deep, brutal thrust that had your eyes rolling back as he buried himself to the hilt. you felt everything—the way he stretched you open, the way he filled you so completely you could hardly breathe.

he started to move—deep and punishing, slow at first just to watch the way your face crumpled, then faster, rougher, fucking you like he owned you.

“tight as ever,” he growled into your ear. “so fucking wet. you needed this, whore? needed me to fuck it outta you?”

“uh- uh huh.” you whimpered, a little too loud for comfort.

“too loud,” he cooed, voice laced with mock sympathy as his hips drove into you again, deeper this time. “be a little quieter.”

and sure, you tried.

and sure, you failed. miserably.

because how could you be quiet when he was fucking you like this? when your back was arched, legs hooked over his shoulders, his cock slamming into you so perfectly, so brutally, that your vision blurred? every stroke knocked another breath out of your lungs, dragged another sound from your throat—whimpers, gasps, cries that bordered on sobs.

“mm-mm,” he tutted, not slowing at all. his hand slid up your throat, not choking but holding, thumb pressing just beneath your jaw as your head lolled back. “you don’t listen. always so fuckin’ loud when i tell you to be good.”

your mouth hung open, but no words came—just a broken little moan as he shifted his angle and hit something dangerous inside you. your nails clawed at the cushions, your hips twitching against his grip.

“what’s that?” he whispered, leaning closer so his lips brushed your ear. “gonna come again?”

you nodded frantically, body trembling, throat too tight to speak.

“huh. ‘course you are.” he gave a sharp thrust that made you cry out again. “can’t even help yourself, can you? so fuckin’ needy. you like this? getting ruined on my cock while you make all those pretty little sounds?”

you sobbed out a yes, not even caring how pathetic you sounded. you were gone—fucked dumb, so deep in it your body barely felt like your own.

his grip tightened around your throat.

“come then,” he growled. “and keep your eyes on me while you do it.”

and somehow, somehow, you managed it—staring up at him with tears on your lashes and his name breaking on your lips as your whole body shattered beneath him. your muscles clamped around his cock, spasming hard, your moans spilling out no matter how hard you tried to bite them back.

and he loved it.

because a second later, he was losing it too—hips stuttering, a filthy groan dragged from his chest as he spilled into you, deep and hot, holding you open with both hands as he came with a force that left him trembling.

he stayed there for a moment, still inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“you really don’t know how to shut up,” he murmured, smirking against your jaw. “guess i’ll just have to keep fuckin’ you ‘til you learn.”

you took in deep breaths, trying to blink the stars from your vision, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. every nerve felt like it was on fire. every breath tasted like chris.

but just when you thought you’d come down from your high—

smack.

a hard slap landed square against your already soaked, overstimulated pussy. the sound echoed off the walls, sharp and wet, and your whole body jolted with a strangled cry.

“fuck!—chris—” you gasped, hips twitching away instinctively, only for his arm to hook around your thigh and yank you right back where he wanted you.

“mm-mm, shhh,” he hummed, low and dangerous as he knelt between your legs, his voice thick with post-orgasm haze but laced with something hungrier now. “gotta train this pussy to be quiet.”

he ran two fingers through your folds—slow, almost gentle—and you whimpered at the contact. you were so sensitive you couldn’t think straight. he watched your hips jerk, your thighs tremble, and his grin deepened.

“look at this messy little cunt,” he muttered, dragging your arousal—his cum—down to your clit, circling it until your back arched off the couch again. “still so fuckin’ wet. still leaking for me.”

“chris—too much, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said calmly. “and you will.”

and then his mouth was back on you.

no mercy. no patience. just relentless, obscene suction on your clit while two fingers curled deep inside you again, stretching your swollen walls and dragging moans from your lips that you couldn’t even begin to hold back.

you thrashed, breath catching, tears slipping down your cheeks from how intense it was—your thighs trying to close, your hands scrambling for something to grip, something to ground you.

but he held you open. forced you to take it.

“you said you’d be good,” he growled against your skin. “so fucking be good.”

your body betrayed you. despite the overstimulation, despite the ache—your orgasm was already building again, terrifying in its speed, the pressure crushing.

“no—chris, i’m gonna—i can’t—please—”

“shut up. yes. yes you can,” he snapped, rubbing hard circles over your clit while his fingers fucked you fast and deep and relentlessly. “you’re gonna come for me again. right now.”

and you did.

you came harder than before—louder, wetter, your entire body locking up as a gush of release flooded his hand and the couch cushions below. you sobbed through it, shaking uncontrollably, legs twitching as he kept going just a second longer, milking it out of you, letting you writhe and cry and fall completely apart.

only then—only then—did he slow, pulling his fingers out, slick and glistening, before sucking them clean with a low, satisfied hum.

he leaned over you, gaze molten, his voice barely above a whisper.

“that,” he breathed, “was for making all those sounds.”

your whole body was trembling, soaked and flushed, your chest rising in frantic little pants as you tried to ground yourself—but chris wasn’t done.

not even close.

you barely had time to blink before he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over—face pressed into the cushions, ass up, legs spread wide.

“look at this mess,” he muttered, dragging his fingers down your slick folds again, letting your wetness drip down your thighs. “you’re fucking dripping. ruined my couch already.”

you whined into the cushion, heat blooming in your cheeks at how wrecked you were, at the way your body was betraying you—still aching, still needy.

he gave your pussy another hard slap.

smack.

“quiet. stay just like that,” he growled. “don’t fuckin’ move.”

you nodded, barely managing a broken little yes before the blunt head of his cock was back at your entrance. he didn’t ease in this time—he slammed into you, hard and deep, making you cry out into the pillow, your body jolting forward from the sheer force of it.

“fuck, yes,” he groaned, gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. “this pussy’s never felt so good. all wet and twitchy for me. greedy fuckin’ thing.”

you couldn’t speak. you could only moan, every sharp thrust driving you higher again, overstimulation and desire colliding until you felt like you might explode.

he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, one hand coming up to fist in your hair and yank your head back, forcing you to arch.

“you like getting fucked like this?” he rasped against your ear. “like a little toy? used until you can’t think?”

you whimpered—yes, a thousand times yes—but all that came out was a gasping, wrecked little moan.

“that’s what i thought,” he muttered, pounding into you harder. faster. the couch creaked beneath you, the wet sounds between your bodies obscene. “you’re fucking perfect. made for this. made for me.”

he reached around, fingers finding your clit again, and you screamed—your whole body jerking, pleasure sparking up your spine like lightning.

“no, no—chris, i can’t—”

“shhh. it’s okay. you can,” he growled. “one more. give me one more.”

you were sobbing into the cushions, eyes rolling back as your body spiraled out of control. every nerve was on fire, every part of you begging for relief. he rubbed tight, relentless circles over your clit while his cock pistoned into you, deeper and harder and faster.

“come on, baby,” he grunted. “be a good fuckin’ girl. come for me.”

and you did.

your orgasm hit like a fucking bomb—your body clenching around him so hard he shouted, thick ropes of cum spilling into you as he fucked you through it, your legs trembling, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

he collapsed over you, still buried deep, breath ragged against your neck.

your bodies were a mess of sweat, slick, and sex—his cum leaking down your thighs, your skin sticky with heat and every inch of you raw from how good it felt.

you stayed like that, both of you catching your breath.

for a moment, neither of you moved.

not because you didn’t want to—but because you couldn’t.

your body was limp, twitching with the last echoes of your orgasm, and chris’s weight on top of you was grounding in a way that made your heart ache. your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your cheek pressed into the cushion, legs splayed open, thighs sticky with slick and cum and sweat.

then, slowly, he softened inside you and let out a quiet, exhausted breath.

you felt him press a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade. another to your spine. then he whispered, “you okay?”

your throat was dry, but you nodded. “mmhmm.”

he was already moving—slipping out of you carefully, fingers brushing down your sides like he didn’t want to let go just yet. he helped you shift, cradling you gently into your back as your body trembled, and when he looked at you, the cocky edge was gone.

now, it was just him.

your chris.

the one who made sure you were breathing. who checked your pulse. who brushed the hair from your damp forehead with the back of his hand and kissed your temple like it was the only thing keeping him calm.

“too much?” he asked softly, voice thick with something real now—guilt, maybe. or just love.

you shook your head, curling into him.

he exhaled like he needed to hear that. then he stood, only for a second, disappearing into the bathroom. you heard the faucet run, the sound of a towel being soaked, rung out. he came back and knelt beside the couch, warm washcloth in hand.

“spread for me,” he said, but this time, there was no demand. no teasing.

you did, cheeks flushed, and he cleaned you gently—every swipe careful, reverent. he wiped away the mess between your thighs, his cum dripping down your skin, and kissed your knee once he was done.

“you’re so good,” he murmured. “such a sweet girl.”

you smiled, hazy and warm, and reached for him. he wrapped you up in his arms, pulling the blanket over both of you, burying his face in your neck like he wanted to disappear into your skin.

“sorry i came in all pissed n’ shit,” he said after a minute. “you didn’t deserve that.”

you carded your fingers through his messy hair. “you didn’t take it out on me. you let me take it from you.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you.

and then he kissed you—soft, slow, open-mouthed. nothing hungry now. just grateful.

“you always do,” he whispered.

“i always will,” you promised. he held you tighter.

he couldn’t even remember why he was mad earlier.

a / n . . . if this flops theres no point to live on

[blaithnne]

I cannot stop thinking about Episode 5 of TADC because Ragatha is, however unintentionally, one of the best examples of how isolating and difficult it is to interact with the world as an autistic person I have ever seen. To the point it genuinely makes me sad to think about her. I need to make a post expanding on this at some point but rn just. The way everyone assumes there’s some sinister hidden meaning to everything she does and says but she’s literally just trying to be nice and she doesn’t understand why it’s not working. The way she tries so hard to make connections but it constantly falls flat, she says things that hurt without realising how or why. She follows the rules she’s been taught will make her friends — she’s kind, she’s forgiving, she’s accepting and apologetic when she messes up, but for some reason it’s just not working. She tries to mimic other people, she tries to laugh at past experiences, tries to open up about her past like everyone else is doing, but now everyone’s uncomfortable and looking at her like she’s crazy and she doesn’t get it!! She doesn’t get it!!! Jax is a jerk and he’s mean to everyone but for some reason Pomni likes him and she doesn’t get it, she doesn’t understand! Pomni tells her it’s okay to be a jerk sometimes but Ragatha doesn’t like being mean, she wants to be nice to people, but she does it anyway, she gets mean like Jax and Zooble do but now Pomni’s looking at her like she’s done something wrong but she just did what she asked her to!! She doesn’t get it!! At the end of the episode everyone goes off into their groups and Ragatha is left alone, after having tried so hard to make friends and fit in and make people like her, she’s still alone, and everyone thinks she’s weird and unapproachable and she just has to give up and accept that she is inherently unloveable. Her evil alter ego tells her she’s going to die alone and nobody loves her and the only thing she corrects her on is the fact that they can’t die here. The few that might like her when she’s around don’t miss her when she’s gone, because there’s nothing to miss. Ragatha has spent her whole life systematically stripping away everything that makes her different and unlikeable in order to make herself more palatable to others, and in the process she has made herself a personalitiless blank slate with no unique identity for others to latch onto and appreciate. She has nothing to add to any conversation because she’s too afraid of being disliked to have a memorable personality beyond being generally polite and nice. And just. God. Someone get this girl some noise cancelling headphones and a therapist on speed dial, being this good of a representation of what it’s like to be autistic, especially to be an autistic person with trauma, is not good for the soul. That final shot just destroys me right in the heart. My poor girl.

[heavenlybodies333]

Psychoanalysis and Other Forms of Foreplay -S.R

Spencer Reid x Hotch’s daughter!reader

Spencer slumped in his chair, shoulders curled forward, fingers twitching against the edge of his desk. His screen had gone black. He didn’t notice. His fingers toyed with a paperclip, twisting it into unfamiliar shapes. By the time he realized he had bent it into a crude spiral, Penelope Garcia was already leaning on the edge of his desk, silently watching.

Across the bullpen, Garcia appeared in a flurry of lemon-yellow and rage.

“Okay,” she said, not even bothering with a hello. “What the hell is going on with you?”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you play innocent with me, Dr. Disaster. You’ve been cranky, broody, barely forming full sentences for like… months.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I thought it was just you being you. But I saw you turn down Olivia from accounting today.”

Spencer looked at her like she’d spoken Martian. “She has a boyfriend.”

“She also has working eyes and a pulse and was very into your whole tortured genius thing,” Garcia snapped. “But you looked like she handed you a hand grenade instead of a phone number.”

He sighed. “It’s not that I’m not interested in dating.”

She raised a perfectly arched brow. “So what is it?” He hesitated.

“Spencer.”

He stared at his hands. “I can’t… finish.”

Garcia blinked. “Like… your sentences? Or—”

“No.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sexually. I can’t come.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Not since—” He cut himself off.

“Oh my god. Since her?” He winced. “Oh my god. Spencer, no.”

He exhales. “It’s just her.” Garcia stared, unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “So your… tool of quantifiable pleasure is emotionally monogamous?”

“I’m not doing this for fun, Penelope!”

“You’re not doing this at all, apparently!”

He glared at her. She softened. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. But, Spence—listen to yourself. You’re literally telling me the only person who can get you off is Hotch’s daughter. The girl whose heart you broke. The girl you left because her father said to. You realize how messed up that sounds, right?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t leave because he said to. I left because she asked me not to fight him. She didn’t want to make it worse. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to hurt her more by pushing.”

“Yeah,” Garcia said, folding her arms. “And now you want to go crawling back to her. For what, closure? Round two? Post-nut clarity?”

Spencer runs a hand through his already chaotic hair. “That is not how I’d describe it. But yes.”

Penelope stares. “So you’ve tried?”

He nods, miserable. “Hookups. Dates. Paid for dinner. Tried not paying for dinner. Switched hands. Switched porn. Nothing.”

She squints. “And you think this is a… medical issue?”

“No. It’s psychological. I know exactly what it is. It’s her. My mind won’t let go of her, and my body’s catching on.”

She gave him a long, hard look. “Do not use her like some kind of sexual Drano, I mean it,” she continues. “You don’t get to show up at her door hard and hollow and expect her to patch the leak. That girl loved you. And last I checked, heartbreak wasn’t an aphrodisiac.”

Your Apartment, 11:02 PM

You opened the door without checking the peephole. Rookie move. But you’d been expecting a food delivery.

Instead, it was Spencer.

And he looked like hell. You crack the door, arms crossed, hip leaning into the frame. “You lost?”

He looks like hell. Not in the tragic, gaunt, ex-addict way—no, this is emotional hell. Shirt wrinkled. Hair a little too curly. Mouth parted like he’s not sure how to start.

“I… needed to talk.”

You sigh and open the door fully. “You’ve got two minutes.”

He walked in like he’d forgotten what your apartment looked like. Eyes flicking to the couch you used to fuck on, the blanket he’d wrapped you in when you cried watching Dead Poets Society, the half-read book on the coffee table with his annotated handwriting in the margins.

“Did you come to sightsee or spit out whatever dumbass reason brought you here?”

“You look good,” he offers, like it might soften the blow of whatever he’s about to say.

You blinked arching an eyebrow. “You look like shit. And I know that’s not why you’re here.”

“I tried,” he added quickly, like it was a confession. “And it just… doesn’t work. I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“Finish.”

Your mouth went dry. “Spencer.” You stare. “I’m sorry?”

“I haven’t been able to orgasm. Since… you.”

Your mouth opens and then closes again. Because what the fuck is this?

“You’re seriously here to tell me that no one else can make you come? And what, you thought I would fix that for you?” You laugh, sharp and disbelieving. “For fuck’s sake, Spencer.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly, stepping forward. “I just—I’ve been trying to move on. And I can’t. It’s like my body knows what my brain keeps denying.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to feel bad for you?” Your tone was acid. “Because it sounds like you came here to make your problem my problem.”

Spencer looked wrecked. “I don’t want to use you.”

“Then don’t.”

“I just—” He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s you. It’s always been you. And it’s like my body knows it before I do.”

Your breath caught. Because that’s the thing—he always knew what to say when it was already too late.

You turned away from the door, arms tight across your chest. He didn’t follow you right away. Maybe he was waiting for the invite that wasn’t coming. Or maybe he knew better than to push.

“So what now?” you asked, voice carefully flat. “You tell me that your dick misses me, and I’m supposed to be flattered?”

Spencer flinched. “That’s not—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘what this is about.’”

He shut his mouth.

You crossed the room and leaned against the kitchen counter, curling your fingers around the edge like it might hold you in place. “Do you know how sick it is that you showed up here because no one else can get you off? That’s a you problem, Spencer. Not mine.”

“I know that,” he said quietly.

“Do you?”

He looked down. “I don’t expect you to fix it.”

“Then why are you here?”

His eyes met yours. “Because I can’t pretend it doesn’t mean something.”

You stared at him. “You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you did. You let him make the call for both of us.”

He stepped closer, slowly. “You asked me not to fight him.”

“I thought giving you space was respecting your boundaries,” he said finally. “I thought leaving was the least selfish thing I could do.”

You swallowed. “You were wrong.”

A beat. Then another. “Do you want me to leave?”

You looked away. The worst part was—you didn’t. Not yet. “…No.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding it since he got in the car. “Then can I just… sit down?”

You nodded once, sharply. He crossed to the couch and eased into it like the memory of you was still warm in the cushions. You watched him from the kitchen, heart hammering.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you said, even though he hadn’t asked.

He nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

You scoffed. “You already did.”

“I didn’t—” He stopped, caught himself. “You’re right. I did. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

You were quiet a long time.

“I’ve tried to stop missing you,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s exhausting.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” He laced his fingers together in his lap. “But I thought you should know.”

You moved closer, slowly. Stood across from him, arms crossed. “So what is this, then? You show up, tell me your body won’t cooperate with anyone else, and what—expect me to just… hold that for you? Be honored?”

He looked up. “No. I’m asking if you still miss me too.”

You blinked.

“I’m asking,” he said carefully, “if I’m the only one who feels like there’s a version of us we never got to finish.”

You didn’t mean to cry.

It just… happened.

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them, before you could tell your body no. You turned away fast, back to the kitchen sink, chest rising too fast.

Spencer stood—but didn’t cross the room. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

You nodded, barely. “I know.” You blinked slowly. “So what now?”

“I don’t know.”

Another pause. And then you said it. The question that had been burning your tongue since he walked in.

“Is this about sex? Or is this about me?”

His jaw tensed. “It’s both. But I swear to you, if I could want anyone else—if I could feel this way with anyone else—I would.”

“Jesus,” you whispered.

“Not because I don’t love you,” he said quickly. “Because it would be easier if I didn’t.”

You stared at him. “You’re pathetic.”

“I know.”

“I should tell you to leave.”

“You should.”

“But I’m not.”

He moved first—close enough to feel your breath catch. His voice was barely audible. “If I kiss you, will you hit me?”

“Probably.”

He didn’t move. But you did. You grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down into you like it was instinct, like some part of your body still remembered.

You backed into the couch without breaking the kiss, tugging him with you until your legs hit the edge and you dropped into the cushions. He followed instantly, his knees bracketing your thighs, weight caging you in. That kiss didn’t stop—not even when your fingers started undoing the buttons on his shirt with more aggression than skill.

“I hate you,” you muttered between kisses, your breath catching as he dragged his mouth down your neck.

“I deserve that,” he mumbled back, nipping at your collarbone. “Say it again.”

“I hate you.”

“You still want me?”

“Fuck you.”

“Please.”

You shoved his shirt off his shoulders with trembling hands. He made a sound in the back of his throat when you scraped your nails down his chest. It was rougher than you used to be.

“Tell me this means something,” he whispered, voice cracked.

You dragged his belt free and tossed it to the floor. “It means I need you to shut the fuck up.”

He dropped to his knees. Palmed your thighs. Rested his forehead against your hip like he was praying.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured.

You pushed him back. “Lie down.”

Spencer obeyed like it was instinct—like your voice bypassed logic. He sank back into the cushions, legs spread, eyes dark and waiting. Watching you like he didn’t know if this was real or punishment.

You climbed into his lap slowly, deliberately—straddling him, knees pressed to either side of his hips, your thighs bracketing the tension he was barely holding back.

Your hands framed his jaw. You kissed him again—slower this time. He moaned into your mouth when you rocked your hips forward, grinding against the hard line of him. There was nothing polite about it—just friction and desperation, your thin panties soaked through already and his cock straining beneath his boxers like it couldn’t wait to be touched.

You reached between your bodies and tugged them down just enough, freeing him. He was thick, flushed, already leaking—and he cursed under his breath when you wrapped your fingers around him.

“Still can’t come for anyone else?” you asked, stroking him slow and steady.

His head fell back against the cushion, eyes fluttering shut. “No one but you.”

“Good.”

You lifted just enough to tug your panties aside and lined him up with your entrance. His hands gripped your hips like he was trying not to beg. You sank down, your slick slipping against his throbbing cock.

Spencer shuddered. A deep, guttural sound tore from his chest like it was the first breath he’d taken in months. His eyes flew open, wide and disbelieving.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “You—you feel—”

“Better than anyone else?” you finished, lips curling into something mean.

He nodded like he was drowning. “So much better.”

You set the rhythm—slow, grinding circles that forced him to feel every inch of you.

He was falling apart underneath you. Hands trembling where they clutched your thighs. Breathing erratic.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

His eyes met yours, desperate and glazed.

“You came here thinking this would fix something.” Your nails dug into his shoulders. “But it won’t. It’ll make it worse.”

“I know,” he whispered, voice raw. “I want it anyway.”

You rocked harder now, angling your hips just right, the drag of him inside you hitting every spot that made your legs shake. You clenched around him and he whimpered.

“Jesus—baby—please—”

“You close?” you asked sweetly, tightening your grip on his jaw.

He nodded frantically. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” you said, breath hot against his cheek. “You came all this way, Spencer. Don’t you dare fucking stop now.”

He let out a strangled groan—head tipping back, mouth parted, eyes glazed like he was already coming apart from just the threat of it.

“I’m gonna—I can’t—fuck—”

His hips jerked beneath you, chasing every desperate ounce of friction, hands flying to your ass like he needed to ground himself. You were soaked, clenching hard around him, rhythm never breaking.

Spencer spilled into you with a shudder so intense it almost knocked you both backward. His hips jerked helplessly, mouth slack, eyes glassy as he came harder than he had in over a year, burying his face in your shoulder like he couldn’t handle the sound of it, let alone the feeling.

You came with a gasp, your entire body clenching around him, nails dragging down his back, hips still rolling through the aftershocks.

You were both breathless and trembling, locked together like neither of you could quite bear to be apart.

Spencer held you. Tight. His breath was warm against your neck.

You felt the words forming before he even said them.

“I love you,” he whispered, ruined. “I never stopped.”

You didn’t answer. Not yet. But you didn’t let go, either. And he knew. He’d just made the biggest mistake of his life all over again. But this time—you weren’t going to let him walk away without a fight.

a/n: limerence is going to kill me

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[madamechrissy]

PS5 remote Sukuna ruins your twitch career!

pairings - PS5 Remote Sukuna x gamer reader (YEP)

contents/warnings- You're a pro streamer, and your remote has broken! You dig up your old favorite remote, but it just SUCKS! - You're so mad you throw it, but that's when a sexy ass demon comes out of it! He's NOT HAPPY with being locked in your junk drawer, so he decides to give you a lesson in the form of backshots!!! Explicit sex/oral (m receiving) sukuna calling you a slut

My contribution to the unholy trifecta @indiewritesxoxo @yenayaps <3

You're trying your best but you keep losing in every match during your APEX stream. It's because your favorite remote is broken and you're stuck using this old crappy one with a joystick that keeps spinning you to the left! This was the first remote you had and shoved in a drawer forever, but you hoped it'd get you through the game.

"I know, I know! I carry you all the time, pick up my banner, shit! Yeah I'm the number one Loba so- and I'm broke!?" You're cursing with your teammates, furious as this stupid red remote keeps fucking yanking every direction.

It's an old, raggedy remote, your cat literally chewed on the toggles so the rubber is falling off. The buttons are sticky - you don't even know what from! You long ago loved this damn thing and called it your lucky remote until you bought a fancy pro one for several hundred dollars.

You even nicknamed it baby girl, and would give it a little kiss as you climbed to the top - the number one player for your main in the country. Usually, streaming made plenty of money, but you had far too many expenses this month (and a really bad Love and Deepspace addiction - oof!) and ol' reliable had to come out.

"Come on baby girl, work with me," you're biting your lip as you sit in your bright pink gamer chair, with your kitten headphones, and people are talking shit in the chat, earning you talking shit right back at them. They're tipping you a fuck ton telling you to buy another, but it's late and you'll have to order online!

You feel the damn remote vibrating against your lap as you wait for them to revive you again, cursing as it shakes your hands, you're not even sure what it's doing now. It keeps vibrating nonstop, flashing different colors over and over, and you're smacking at it, shaking it, but it's like it's possessed!

"Oh fuck this," you pick up the remote and throw it against the wall now, your name isn't crash out queen for no reason! "God, I can't wait to get paid again."

You're turning off the PlayStation now, when a hand -a huge tattooed fucking hand with black nails - grips your wrist. You scream then, looking up to see a huge man with red eyes and pink hair, naked!?!? You can't help but look and see his cock thick and huge even on soft, growing under your gaze.

"What the... who the fuck are you? A stalker?" He chuckles then, towering over you - god this dude must be seven foot tall almost!? His cock is just swinging all heavy, raising up more as his strong hands grip your arms now.

"I'm baby girl or whatever dumb fucking name you call me, insolent brat!" You gasp now, eyeing where your remote was thrown - and it's GONE!

"No way," you're shaking your head, and he smirks at you, before picking you up like you're some doll. "Hey!"

"How about I fucking throw you, huh?" He tosses you across the fucking room and you land on your bed, it bounces as he's unceremoniously tossed you. "Call you a 'cheap peace of shit' what do you think?"

"I'm sorry, fuck are you some... demon!?" He's chuckling then, the sound far too throaty and inviting, when he yanks off your cat headset, throwing them. "Hey!"

"Tired of your attitude, you're always raging - you're not even that fucking good at playing-" You smack him then, hard, and his ruby eyes glare, but the problem is you've made him hard now.

"I'll fucking exorcise you, demon!" You're shoving at him, when you notice his thick, throbbing cock, wrapped with veins and leaking pre. "Are you horny right now! Where are your clothes??"

"You think remotes fucking have clothing?"

"Go back in there then!"

"I think I'll cum inside you instead," he's yanking your panties down, ripping them in the process. "Had me shoved in your junk drawer next to your broken vibrator? Throw shit out."

"Should've thrown you out - ngh!" Sukuna's shoved two long fingers right in your hole, it gets way too wet, you're trembling, thighs shaking on either side of his hand as you cry out. "What are you doing, you can't fuck... you're a remote!"

"Hah, I was trapped in there, but finally you threw me hard enough you freed me - fuck you're wet," he's moaning now, scissoring his fingers in and out, stretching you too much. "Also, think I didn't notice how you'd set my on your lap when I vibrated? Slut."

"Am not even! You're a stupid... oh fuck, there... remote- no, don't stop!" He's yanked his fingers out then, sucking your drippy cunt off them, his cheeks hollowing.

That's when it hits you -

He's hot.

Your attitude shifts a bit as his cock gets even bigger, red tip leaking pearly drops onto your bed, and your tummy clenches. "Oh, dropped the attitude huh? Ya think I'll let you cum?"

He's shoved your thighs up now, putting his tip along your slit and rubbing, groaning as he feels a wet cunt for the first time in years. He's been sealed away for at least six years in this fucking remote, last time he was shoved in a Nintendo Gamecube! He's not going back in again.

He's determined to make sure he fucks you good enough you never send him back, also, Sukuna always missed you, locked away! He'd only see glimpses of you with new remotes, and that made him very sad. He loved you touching all of his toggles and buttons </3

"Beg for it, brat," he's talking shit even though he honestly wants to tell you you're pretty, but you're shaking your head. "Stubborn huh? Beg for it."

"Put it in! No - no not there!?" Sukuna's pressing against your ass hole instead, tip burning as you panic, he throws his head back and laughs at you.

"Can't take it up the ass? Pathetic mortal."

"Oh shut up - fine, please... what's your name? Baby girl?"

"I'm not baby girl!" He shoves his cock deep then, you're screaming out as your cunt barely takes him, drooling down his cock with each stroke as he presses deeper. He watches your tummy bulge and smirks at the sight. "Look, fucking wrecking your insides"

"You're... ah... so baby girl - your hair is so - pink and - hah!" Sukuna's fucking you hard now, for his pleasure, mean fucking strokes as he leans down, glaring and grabbing your chin, pink hair falling over his brow that you kinda wanna run your fingers through.

"My name is Sukuna, I'm the King - don't you laugh brat - of curses, okay!?" You're gasping in pain when he shoves so deep he hits your cervix now, you're so wet you hear it, the squelching wetness of your cunt, over and over. He shoves up your top, smacking your tits then, grinning as he sees them jiggle.

"Ah! Ow, baby girl!"

"I'm not baby girl!??!" He's done with your insolence! He flips you over then, using your crumpled up skirt as leverage as he starts making mean backshots. "Call me my name, now brat."

"S-Sukuna, fuck..." He's moaning then, shoving your head against your pillows, railing you as your game sits in the lobby, your character making weird NPC moves that somehow match the rhythm of Sukuna's cock.

"Beg me to cum, huh? Pathetic brat, look at you," he's talking shit because he's close, your gummy walls are gripping him too fucking good, he can't take it. He groans and leans over, shoving you in his prone position, biting your ear. "Beg me."

"Lemme cum, please... best remote ever..." He's moaning at that, it's just what he needed! He's reaching a hand around, finding your clit and running in circles, you're gripping your sheets and whining out, head falling back for more of his bites.

"Gonna fill you up s'good, won't even game without my cock inside you, huh?" That sounds great to you actually, you're so close now, whining and nodding when your - remote!? - kisses you, and drinks your moans.

His saliva drips in your mouth as he busts his hot white ropes in your cunt you're cumming with him, milking him for more, when he finally pulls back, he's standing and coming over to your drawer then, as you catch your breath. His cum is dripping out of your pussy, so much.

"What is it?" You manage to as, and he's holding up one of your mini skirts and glaring.

"This will never fit me!? You need to buy me a wardrobe."

"No, I need a new remote! I can't afford clothes too!" He's standing now, walking up to you, dick still on hard and dripping from you.

"You will have me naked all the time so you can game more!?"

"I'm a professional streamer!"

"That's it," Sukuna's shoved his cock in your mouth then, pulling at your hair, you get so fucked out you order him clothes when your direct deposit hits </3 Your pussy hurts too much to game right now anyway.

NOT EVEN SORRY anymore <3

perm tags - @cutelittlesugarfairy @kitananami @todorokiskitten @grapesandraisins @kymber96 @vamqyx @sleepykittyenergy @mistytojigetolover @jaeminsmilk @thisisew @innocent-and-angelic @amethystarchild @ohreallyfriend @raendarkfaerie @rjreins @ti-mame @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @aeeliy @yourlocalcatscammer @angelzrulez21-blog @sabztov @beereadzzz @zetianzz @gamerhere @imsuperawkward @thelightknight21 @poopooindamouf @bhocalatebhipbookies69 @whorekyuu @simp-plague @chlefnikkl @jud3thedude @inotaku-talkz @morganmorine777 @1tsleesee @tolerantxo @hoesoflamentation @lizatonix @allilovessatoru @yamadramallamaqueen @delphiakira @felix4eversun @erendipi @nazzysworld13 @tenaciousavenueavenue @lucilleheart

[drewsephrry]

Love Island - Episode 13: Pick me, Choose me, Love me

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 4.9k

warnings: cuss words, sexual innuendos

series masterlist

The girls are gathered in the makeup room, getting ready for the recoupling. The atmosphere is thick, awkward and tense, like no one really wants to say what they’re thinking.

“So…a recoupling.” Cleo ventures, trying to break the silence. “That’s gonna be…interesting.”

No one really reacts. She clears her throat and turns to Y/N.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” She asks and Y/N offers a small, instinctive smile. 

“Honestly? I’m just excited to recouple with Rafe.” She says, a hint of giddiness slipping through. “But I do need to have a very uncomfortable conversation with Ryan first.”

“You’re going to talk to him?” Sarah asks, glancing up from her eyeshadow palette. Her eyes flick briefly to Kiara before returning to her brush. Y/N catches it and nods.

“It’s what he deserves.” Y/N says simply. “I can’t just leave things hanging like that. He needs to hear from me that I don’t see it going anywhere. Even if it’s hard. It’s not fair to let him think I might pick him when I won’t.”

The girls nod, quietly agreeing.

“You’re such a good person.” Cleo says warmly.

“I’m just trying to be honest.” Y/N replies with a shrug, meeting Kiara’s eye as she fans her eyelash glue dry.

Across the room, Abigail is rifling through her clothes in silence, round curlers perched on her head.

“Need a hand, Abi?” Y/N calls over.

Abigail turns with a soft smile and shakes her head. 

“I’m good, thanks.” She responds.

Y/N gives her a knowing nod before turning her attention back to her makeup bag, the buzz of tension still lingering beneath the surface.

Later, when the girls make their way downstairs, Y/N spots Ryan sitting on the couch with Kelce and John B. She walks over, steady but warm.

“Hey.” She says with a soft smile as she stops in front of them.

The boys greet her and she turns to Ryan. 

“Mind if I steal Ryan for a minute? I promise I’ll bring him back.” 

“Keep him.” John B teases, earning a few light laughs as Ryan stands up. He places a casual hand on Y/N’s waist as she leads him toward one of the quieter couches, away from the others.

“You look incredible tonight.” He says as they sit down.

Y/N’s cheeks flush with color as she glances at her dress.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Ryan leans back slightly, already sensing where the conversation is headed.

“I pulled you for a chat because…”

“You’re picking Rafe.” He says, cutting in gently and she freezes for a second. 

“Ryan…”

“It’s okay.” He says quickly. “I see you two together. I get it.”

“I did feel something between us. I want you to know that.” Y/N swallows, her voice quiet.

“I did too.” He says with a nod. “I really like you, Y/N. But I also know what you and Rafe have is different. I’m not here to fight for someone’s attention. I’m here to enjoy this and maybe find something real.”

Her expression softens, worry flickering in her eyes. 

“I never wanted to hurt you.” She mutters.

“You didn’t.” He reassures her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I had a crush, I took my shot and it didn’t work out. That’s life.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs again.

“Don’t be.” He smiles, sincere. “I’m glad we got to know each other. I want you to be happy. And if Rafe makes you happy, then I’m rooting for you.”

“This kind of feels like a breakup.” Y/N lets out a soft laugh. He laughs too. 

“It does. ‘I’m just focusing on my career right now.’ ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’” He jokes, tossing out the clichés. She laughs louder this time, before they fall into a brief, easy silence.

“I’d still like to be friends.” She says suddenly, sitting up.

“I’d really like that too.” He agrees and she opens her arms.

“Come here.”

He leans in, wrapping her in a warm hug. She breathes in the familiar scent of his and lets herself settle into the moment before pulling back with a smile.

“So…” She says, leaning back. “Thoughts on tonight’s recoupling?”

“What do you mean?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, have you felt a spark with anyone else? Who do you think might pick you?”

Ryan hesitates for a second, then leans in slightly like he’s sharing a secret. 

“Okay…don’t tease me or tell anyone yet, but…I think I’m getting a bit of a vibe from Abi.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes go wide, her smile lighting up. 

“Yeah.” He says with a grin. “She’s sweet. Funny. And I don’t know, maybe it’s because we entered the villa together, but there’s this comfort between us.”

“I can see that.” She says thoughtfully. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“I want to.” He admits. “But I’m not sure where things stand between her and JJ.”

“Well.” Y/N says with a shrug. “You’ve got nothing to lose. I think you should go for it.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Really.” He nods, eyes warm. 

She smiles again, proud of the way things turned out, even if it wasn’t the easiest conversation to have.

Confessional - Ryan “I really respect her for pulling me aside and having that conversation. She didn’t just leave me hanging or make me look stupid…I mean she’s not the type to do that. She’s way too kind for that.” He says with a small sigh. “Honestly, I’m just grateful we got some closure.”

Across the villa, Kiara and Abigail are on the lounge beds, drinks in hand. The night air is warm, but the energy between them is noticeably cooler.

“Okay, so…” Abigail starts, her voice low and hesitant. “I pulled you for a chat because…shit, I’m really bad at confrontation.”

She takes a long breath before continuing.

“Last night, some people saw you and JJ going into the villa…and then coming back like twenty minutes later. And I’m not saying something definitely happened, but I guess I just wanted to ask...did…did something happen? If so, do you feel something there? Like…is there an actual connection? Or is it just friendly?” She winces. “God, I sound toxic. Just-just forget I said anything.”

She starts to rise, embarrassed, but Kiara gently reaches out and catches her hand.

“Abi, wait.”

Abigail pauses, then sinks back down beside her. Kiara exhales slowly. 

“There’s…been a vibe between JJ and me for a while. I didn’t act on it because I didn’t want to overthink it or make things messy. But last night, during the challenge… something shifted. It was this undeniable spark everyone talks about.”

She hesitates.

“Afterward, he told me to meet him upstairs. And I swear, I didn’t know what he was planning or what he was thinking.”

“So…what happened?” Abigail frowns. Kiara looks down at her drink, then back up.

“We kissed. Just once. But…it felt real. Like the first time I’ve had butterflies in this villa.”

Abigail’s face tightens. She looks away, staring into her glass. 

“You could’ve told me.” She mutters.

“I would. I swear.”

“When, Kie?” Abigail presses, her voice strained. “When you would have stood up and picked him at the recoupling?”

Kiara’s heart sinks. 

“No. I would never do that to you. Please…just trust me on this.”

“I want to. But the way you both hid this from me? I just…I didn’t expect this. Not from you.” Abigail shakes her head, eyes glassy but holding back. 

“I’m sorry, Abi. I really am.” Kiara's shoulders slump as the weight of her guilt settles in.

“I am too.” Abigail replies quietly as she stands. “I just need some space.”

Kiara nods silently, watching as Abigail walks away.

Confessional - Kiara “I would’ve told her. I should have told her.” She insists quietly.

Maddy and Sarah are in the kitchen, casually snacking and sipping on drinks, when Y/N strolls in and hops onto one of the stools.

“Hi, girlies.” She sing-songs, flashing them a bright smile.

“Hi, gorgeous.” Maddy beams, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You good?”

“Just had the talk with Ryan.” Y/N exhales.

“Oh, shit.” Sarah’s eyes widen. “How’d it go?”

“He was actually…really chill about it.” Y/N says. “I think he saw it coming. He wasn’t upset and we agreed to stay friends, so…it went as well as it could have.”

“Yeah, no.” Maddy shakes her head, already unimpressed. “Boys and girls can’t just be friends.”

“I hate to break it to you, Mads.” Y/N says with a smirk, “But I have to disagree.”

“Nope. Every guy I’ve ever said ‘let’s be friends’ to, whether that was exes, flings or even random guys I’ve ended up hooking up with at some point. It’s literally impossible. Unless they’re gay.”

“Honestly, I have to side with Maddy on this one.” Sarah raises her hand like she’s seconding a motion.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen with me and Ryan.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Whatever you say.” Maddy says, folding her arms. “But it’s impossible when there are feelings involved.”

“There are no feelings involved.” Y/N insists, shaking her head. “Not like that.”

“You like him.” Maddy replies immediately, raising a smug brow.

“I don’t like-like him.” 

“But you like him.”

“I don’t have a crush!” She argues.

“But you like him.” Maddy says again, grinning.

“I just think he’s-”

“Charming?” Maddy laughs. “Yeah, you've said it a million times, babe. You like him.”

Y/N sighs and turns her gaze to the beanbags, where Rafe is sitting, relaxed and glowing under the villa lights.

“Well…if I do like Ryan, it’s not the way I like Rafe.” Her voice softens as she watches him. “Ryan’s a great guy. He came in when I was all over the place. And he helped, you know? He pulled me out of my head when I was still dealing with the whole…cheating thing. But at the end of the day, he’s not Rafe.”

“You’re falling for Rafe.” Sarah lets out a squeal.

“D-Don’t say that.” Y/N warns, instantly flustered.

“Oh my god, did you stutter?” Maddy gasps, pointing at her. “You totally stuttered. You’re so falling for him!”

Y/N groans and hides her face in her hands as the girls burst into giggles around her.

Just then, Kiara steps into the kitchen, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

“Y/N?” She says, carefully.

Y/N lifts her head from her hands, eyebrows raised. 

“Kie? What’s going on?”

Kiara glances at Maddy and Sarah, who go quiet, sipping their drinks. Then she turns back to Y/N, nervous but determined.

“I...I feel like a hypocrite.” She says quietly. “Calling Rafe a liar, saying I didn’t trust him and that he’d hurt you…when I messed up too.”

Y/N’s eyes widen slightly, already sensing what’s coming.

“Kie-” “I kissed JJ.” Kiara blurts out.

The room goes still. All three girls look up at her, stunned.

“And...we didn’t tell Abigail.” She continues. “She found out. And it sucked. Seeing her face like that…seeing how hurt she was.”

Y/N immediately opens her arms and Kiara walks into her embrace. Y/N rubs her back gently as she speaks.

“I think I know how Abi feels.” She murmurs. “And honestly, the best thing you can do is give her some time. Let everything breathe a little.”

She pulls back to look Kiara in the eyes.

“Was the kiss just in the moment? Or…did it mean something?” Y/N asks.

“I wanted to kiss him. And…I think he did too. He made the first move.”

Y/N sighs, but it’s not judgmental, it's more thoughtful.

“Then yeah…I think what hurt Abigail most wasn’t just the kiss, it was the fact you kept it from her.”

“So I should just… give her space?” 

Y/N nods and Maddy and Sarah follow with quiet agreement.

“And the recoupling?” Kiara asks, almost in a whisper.

The girls exchange glances. No one jumps to answer.

“Just…go with your gut.” Y/N says gently. “If you talked to Abigail first, explained what happened and how you feel about JJ, then she probably will understand your choice. But if you’re unsure about JJ or if there’s no real feeling behind it...maybe it’s not worth the fallout.”

Kiara nods again, taking it all in. Then she leans in and hugs Y/N one more time.

“Thank you.” She murmurs.

“Anytime.” Y/N gives her a soft smile. 

Confessional - Kiara “That talk with Y/N definitely helped me make up my mind.” Kiara says, nodding. “Honestly, someone should just hand that girl a psychology degree.”

Rafe sits by the firepit with JJ and Topper, the three of them nursing their drinks.

“Rafe?” Topper says cautiously.

“Yeah?” Rafe’s jaw tightens as he glances up at him.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry for what I said the other night.” Topper starts, shifting in his seat and Rafe gives a small nod, letting him continue.

“I shouldn’t have called Y/N fake or said she was playing you. I thought I was looking out for you, but...I was out of line. I’ve had time to think it over and I see both your sides now. I just want you to be happy, man.”

Rafe exhales slowly. 

“Then don’t talk shit about her again.” He says simply. “And really, you owe her the apology, not me.”

“I figured you’d say that.” Topper nods, already expecting that. “And yeah, I will. I promise. So...we good?”

“We’re good, man.” Rafe lets out a quiet chuckle and nods.

They dab each other up and JJ leans back on the bench with a sigh, clearly growing impatient.

“Alright, can we get to the real crisis here?” JJ says.

The guys glance over at him.

“What now?” Rafe asks, lifting his glass.

“I, uh…I kissed Kiara last night. And I haven’t told Abigail.” JJ reveals.

“Shit.” Topper’s eyes widen.

“I know. It just…happened. And I don’t regret it. Kiara and I had a moment. I kinda wanna see where it goes.” 

“And Abigail?” Rafe presses.

“I like her too.” JJ admits. “I’m a mess.”

“Then be straight with her. Don’t leave her in the dark.” Rafe says, the memory of his own screw-ups flickering behind his eyes.

“She’s gonna hate me.” JJ mutters.

“She might be pissed, sure. But she deserves the truth, JJ.” Rafe looks at him, voice softer now.

“And you better do it before the recoupling.” Topper adds.

JJ stands up  like he’s ready to go and then a loud ping echoes.

“I got a text!” Sarah shouts from the kitchen. “Islanders, please gather at the firepit. #decisiontime #whowillitbe.”

JJ freezes, then drops back down onto the bench with a groan. 

“Fuck.” He mutters.

Rafe gives his back a sympathetic smack while the boys let out a collective sigh.

Confessional - JJ “I’m fucked. This whole thing is fucked.” He runs a hand down his face. “Fuck.”

The Islanders begin gathering slowly, one by one taking their seats beside their current partners. A phone chimes, slicing through the chatter.

“Boys.” Pope reads. “Please stand at the front of the firepit.”

The guys exchange a few glances before getting to their feet and making their way to the front. The girls shift in their seats, anticipation building as they prepare for the recoupling.

Maddy’s phone buzzes first. She jumps up with a grin, practically glowing.

“I’d like to couple up with this boy.” She begins, her voice light. “Because he’s made me laugh more than anyone before. He’s sweet, he’s fun and I always feel at ease when I’m around him. So the boy I wanna couple up with is…Kelce.”

He jogs over, plants a kiss on her lips and she giggles as they sit back down together, his arm draping naturally around her shoulder.

Next up is Sarah, who stands and delivers a short but heartfelt speech. She smiles as she chooses John B and he walks over, grabbing her and kissing her. Their kiss turns intense fast, drawing whistles and laughter from the others.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough!” Someone calls and they break apart, laughing as they return to their seats.

Alyssa stands next. Her expression is a little more serious.

“I'd like to couple up with this boy, because even though things haven’t exactly been smooth between us lately.” She says. “I still believe there’s something worth holding onto.” She glances at Topper. “So I’m choosing to couple up with…Topper.”

He walks over, hugs her a little longer than expected and they sit down quietly.

Y/N stands up slowly, smoothing out her dress and letting out a small breath as all eyes fall on her.

“I wanna couple up with this boy because…” She begins, voice a little unsteady. “Even though we haven’t known each other that long...being around him just feels easy.”

She lets out a quick breath, eyes flicking toward him.

“Okay, not always easy.” She admits with a small laugh. “It’s been a bit messy, if I’m honest. But somehow, it still feels real.”

Rafe watches her, lips twitching into a subtle smile.

“We’ve had our ups and downs already. But there’s something there. And no matter how things have gone…I keep coming back to him.”

Her voice softens at the end, eyes lingering on him now.

“So yeah. The boy I wanna couple up with…is Rafe.”

He’s already on his feet before she finishes, crossing the space between them in a few steps. He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her just slightly, kissing her without saying a word. She smiles into it, arms winding naturally around his neck like she’s done it a hundred times.

“Hey!” Sarah calls out, teasing. “You told me and John B to keep it PG!”

Everyone laughs as they finally break apart and settle on the bench together. Rafe turns to her, eyes scanning her face.

“You’re not wearing that…lip stuff tonight?” He asks, voice lower now.

“You always kiss it off anyway. Figured I’d skip the routine.” She grins. He chuckles, hand settling on her waist again as she leans into him. He presses a kiss to her temple, then turns his attention back to the firepit, still holding her. 

Abigail rises slowly.

“I’d like to couple up with this boy.” She says. “Because he’s funny, he’s sweet and from the moment we met, he’s had this really kind and calming energy. I’ve loved getting to know him, and I’d really like to see where this could go.” She exhales. “So the boy I wanna couple up with is…Ryan.”

Ryan’s eyes widen. He turns instinctively to look at Y/N, who mirrors his expression before giving him an encouraging grin.

He walks over to Abigail, kisses her cheek and takes the seat beside her.

JJ, still standing at the front, furrows his brow in confusion. He glances at Abigail across the firepit. But she doesn’t meet his eyes.

“That was…unexpected.” Ryan whispers to Abigail.

“Not really.” She replies, calmly meeting his eyes.

Ryan relaxes a little more in his seat, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Cleo stands next and confidently chooses Pope. Their kiss is sweet and unhurried before they settle down again.

Finally, Kiara rises.

“I’d like to couple up with this boy.” She sighs. “Because he’s really handsome, really funny and somehow always has me laughing until I can’t breathe. And...there’s a spark there. Something worth exploring. So, the boy I wanna couple up with is…JJ.”

JJ walks over slowly, hugging her a little awkwardly in front of everyone before they both sit down with matching sighs.

When the recoupling wraps up, the islanders scatter. Some heading toward the fire pit, others toward the daybeds, settling in with their partners.

Ryan and Abigail walk over to one of the couches, drinks in hand, the warm night buzzing around them.

“I gotta say.” Ryan starts, settling in beside her. “I’m really glad you picked me.”

“You are?” Abigail asks, her smile soft but a little surprised.

“Yeah.” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was actually telling Y/N earlier…I feel like we’ve got something. A connection, I guess. I mean…we came in together, which probably made it easier. But being around you just feels…natural. Comfortable. You’re really sweet. And stunning, obviously. And now I’m rambling.” He lets out a nervous laugh.

Abigail laughs too. 

“No, it’s okay.” She pauses, then adds more seriously, “I do feel that connection, too. But I want to be honest with you. Right before the recoupling…I found out something happened between JJ and Kiara. And I won’t lie, it did influence my choice.”

“Okay.” Ryan’s smile dims just a little, but he nods, taking it in.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m using you or that it’s not real. Because I meant what I said up there. I chose you because I see something with you.”

Ryan leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. 

“I didn’t know about the JJ and Kiara thing. I knew he wanted to talk to her, but that’s it. And honestly? I don’t think you’d ever use me like that. I see you. Or at least, I’m starting to. And yeah, maybe everything's moving fast and it’s all a bit chaotic right now, but I’m here and I want to see where this goes. Whenever you are ready.”

“Thank you. That really means a lot. It is a lot right now.” Abigail nods, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“Come here.” He opens his arms gently. She leans in and hugs him tight, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Confessional - Ryan “Yeah, I know she’s got a lot on her mind and things are messy right now…but I’m genuinely glad she chose me.” He grins. “I wanna keep getting to know her. See where this goes.”

The islanders start making their way into the villa to get ready for the night. Rafe walks through the flower-lined corridor, carrying Y/N in his arms like a bride. She giggles the whole way, her laughter echoing as they step inside and the boys, already lounging around, erupt in cheers.

“Here comes the bride!” JJ hollers, grinning as the others join in with whistles and claps.

Rafe gently sets her down at the foot of the stairs. She turns to smile at him, but before she can fully walk away, he catches her hand and pulls her back into him, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Don’t take too long.” He murmurs. She giggles, giving him another quick peck before heading upstairs.

In the dressing room, the girls are wiping off their makeup and chatting about the day. The door swings open and Y/N walks in to a chorus of playful screams.

“There she is!” Maddy teases. “How are you feeling Mrs. Cameron?”

Y/N blushes, grinning wide. 

“Honestly? My cheeks hurt from smiling. I feel…giddy.” She replies as the girls laugh with her, the energy light and warm.

A few feet away, Kiara is taking off her earrings when Abigail approaches her quietly.

“Hey.” Abigail says.

“Hey.” Kiara glances over. 

“I just...I wanted to say sorry. If I came off mean earlier.”

“You didn’t.” Kiara assures her gently. “But you have every right to be upset. I should’ve told you. I get it.”

“I’m not mad.” Abigail shakes her head. “I was just... frustrated, I guess. But I see the way you and JJ are with each other. And I don’t want to be in the middle of that.”

Kiara steps in for a hug and Abigail wraps her arms around her without hesitation.

“I love you.” Kiara whispers. “And I’m really sorry for how it all happened.”

“Love you too.” Abigail says softly, pulling back with a small smile before going to change into her pajamas.

Confessional - Abigail “Me and JJ…it was fun while it lasted. All two days of it.” She lets out a small laugh. “But this is Love Island. I can’t be mad at him for wanting to see where things go with Kie. And I’m definitely not mad at her either. It is what it is.”

Later, as the girls trickle downstairs, Abigail makes her way over to JJ’s bed. He looks up, running a hand through his hair as she approaches.

“Hey.” He says.

She sits down where he pats beside him.

“I know about you and Kiara.” She starts, voice calm. “And I’m not mad. Or hurt. I’ve had time to think and I can see she really wants to give whatever’s between you two a shot. And I don’t want to be in the way of that.”

JJ nods, his expression sincere. 

“I should’ve pulled you aside sooner. I messed up, and I take full responsibility for that. I’m sorry, Abigail.” He apologizes and she nods, a soft smile on her lips. 

“Thank you for saying that.” 

He nods back and with a quiet understanding between them, she stands and heads to her bed, where Ryan is already lying down, looking up at her with a warm smile.

Meanwhile, Y/N steps into the bedroom, the soft swish of silk the only sound as she crosses the room in her yellow pajamas. The camisole clings delicately to her frame, lace tracing her bust and hem, matching the floral silk shorts that sit snugly on her hips. Rafe doesn’t even try to hide it as his eyes follow every step, the straw from his water bottle paused at his lips.

He shifts under the covers and lifts the duvet for her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“That color.” He mutters, voice low and a little hoarse. “Looks too damn good on you.”

She smiles, settling on her side of the bed and placing her phone and water bottle on the bedside table. But before she can fully lie down, Rafe reaches over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest. She melts into him, a quiet laugh leaving her lips as she tucks her face against his neck.

Then, a hesitant voice breaks the moment.

“Hey…Y/N?”

Topper approaches slowly. 

“Hey, Topper. You alright?”nShe sits up slightly, turning to him with a concerned smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly as he glances between her and Rafe. “I just…I wanted to apologize. For what I said the other day. Calling you fake, saying you were playing Rafe…that was outta line.”

“It’s fine, really-” Y/N shakes her head.

“No, I need to say it. I was out of line and you didn’t deserve that.” He cuts in, firm but sincere.

She exhales softly, then moves to crawl across Rafe to reach him. She opens her arms and Topper doesn’t hesitate to hug her back.

From behind her, Rafe’s eyes drop to the way her shorts ride up, his gaze darkening slightly.

“Yo, Rafe.” Topper teases as they pull apart, catching the look. “You’re drooling, man.”

Y/N giggles, looking over her shoulder to find Rafe still staring. She smacks his chest playfully.

“My eyes are up here.”

“I know.” He murmurs, eyes finally lifting to meet hers.

She turns back to Topper with a gentle smile.

“Thanks for apologizing.” She mutters and Topper nods, offering a final glance to them both before heading to his own bed.

“Good man.” Rafe calls after him.

As soon as he’s gone, Y/N moves to her side of the bed again, but Rafe isn’t having it. He pulls her back into his lap with ease, arms around her waist and she laughs as her arms drape over his shoulders.

The villa goes dark, a chorus of sleepy goodnights floating through the air.

Rafe leans in, not wasting a second, capturing Y/N’s lips with his. She kisses him back eagerly, fumbling to pull the duvet over them as if it might shield them from the intensity brewing between them.

His hands find her waist, fingers splaying and sliding down to her hips, then lower. Her body shifts, brushing against him in a way that makes him let out a low, guttural groan.

“Sorry.” She breathes out, her voice shaky as she adjusts the blanket.

“Don’t…don’t apologize.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering open in the dark. “Fuck, I-I want you.”

“Ray…” She pulls back just enough, the air between them cooling. There’s hesitation in her voice now and it makes him blink, thrown off.

“Wh-Am I moving too fast or something?” He asks, voice suddenly laced with concern.

Her hand finds the back of his neck, her fingers trailing gently through his hair, grounding him even as she hesitates.

“I…is kissing okay? Just kissing, for now?”

Relief and restraint flash across his features as he nods quickly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s more than okay. We don’t even have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” He murmurs. She exhales, her shoulders relaxing. 

“It’s just…it’s our first night back together. After everything that’s happened, I don’t wanna rush anything.”

“I get it. You lead the way.” He reaches up, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear with the softest touch. 

She gives him a grateful, almost shy smile, then leans in again. Their lips meet gently at first, a slow burn, until she deepens the kiss with a quiet hunger that still makes his head spin.

Rafe’s hands slide back to her waist, gripping her just right, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t go further.

He’s content kissing her like this. Wanting more, but respecting the pace she sets.

And when she finally rests her head against his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, he presses a kiss to her hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers like a vow into the dark.

to be continued...

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