Hate Or Love-Mark Tuan(M)

hi! i love that you write for mav so much and the way you do it is phenomenal 😭

can i request something where hangman gets to teasing on mav’s age in the relationship sense and reader chips in too but it leads to him proving age is just a number

Thank you so much, babe! ♥️ Hope you love this one as much as I did 😉

just a number. | pete “maverick” mitchell x reader

warnings: NSFW! (If you’re a minor, DO NOT interact), oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex, age gap, and pure fluff.

pairings: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x reader

word count: 2,253 (9 minutes reading time)

author’s notes: I am posting this before I head to work because I just had to! So apologies if there might be things that are not making sense. There will probably be little changes I’ll be making once I have the time to proofread it again.

After the whole mission turned out to be a success, Payback and Fanboy invited everyone last get together at The Hard Deck. They started the afternoon with football on the beach and you watched from the reclining seat, putting on sunscreen all over your exposed skin before opening your book to where you left off.

Pete winked or smiled at you whenever the two of you locked eyes throughout the game. You knew that he wanted spend some time with you after the mission, but he also knew that this would probably be the last time all of them would ever get together like this. You didn’t mind him spending some time with them; in fact, you were the one who encouraged him to do it. 

At halftime Pete decided to bow out of the game. The sun was setting, and he knew it was your favorite time of day.

“Oh, come on, old man!” Hangman yelled above the others who were calling for Pete by his callsign.

You laughed, seeing them all protest at Pete's decision as he jogged towards you. The older man ducked down to kiss you before asking you to scoot over so he could sit next to you on the beach chair.

“(Y/N), send him back out here!” Hangman yelled again. You and Pete laughed as he waved the guys off, sitting back to watch them from afar instead as he enjoyed a cold beer you kept in a cooler for him.

“Good book?” He asked.

“Yeah. Started it when you left,” you said to him as you sat up a little and pulled his arm around you. “Why’d you stop playing?”

“The sun is setting,” he smiled. You were touched at the little gesture and leaned up to kiss his cheek as you abandoned your book and watched the view with him.

As soon as they all freshened up and washed the beach off, all of you returned to The Hard Deck for dinner and some drinks. The whole team dominated the pool table along with the seats surrounding it while Penny brought out piles of food for all of the hungry pilots and you.

Pete was sitting on the couch right next to you, his hand idly resting on your thigh as he sipped some beer, while Hangman sat on the chair perpendicular to yours. He poked your hand and pointed at a plate of onion rings, so you leaned forward and took it, placing it on your arm rest so the two of you could share the snack together.

Pete was engaged in another conversation with Phoenix when Hangman decided to ask you a question, “What do you see in him?”

“Jake, be nice,” you warned him.

“No, I didn't mean it like that,” he tried to explain as you laughed, fully messing with him. “I mean, you know, he's...basically Rooster's dad.”

It was true, Pete was old enough to be your father, weird as that sounds. Plus, Bradley had been one of your closest friends. He was genuinely weirded out when he found out about the two of you.

He's...different,” you shrugged, unsure of how to summarize how you felt about the man sitting right next to you.

“Ancient?” Hangman tilted his head, clearly joking which elicited another laughter from you.

“No, I meant that even with all the difficulties that come in our relationship, he still makes me feel happy and safe,” you said. “He doesn't look like it, but he's actually quite the romantic too,” you chuckled.

“Really?” Hangman asked, slightly taken aback. “How so?”

“It's the little things,” you smiled. “He didn't ask me out through a text when we started dating; he's not exactly good with words, but he tries to write me letters or leave me post-it notes when he can because he knows I love them; and did you know you could still make playlist on cassette tapes?” You listed a few things that came to mind.

“Are you sure it's not because he just doesn't know how to work a phone? Or Spotify?” He joked again.

“Okay, fine, maybe the age thing does contribute to something, because I'm now realizing that the things I find romantic are the things that are really old school,” you answered, barely finishing your sentence before breaking into laughter again.

“That's what I thought,” he said animatedly. “It-It's probably how he used to ask girls out in his days,” Jake said, unable to contain his laughter. His hand held on to your forearm as the two of you laughed.

The two of you were laughing so hard, you didn't realize that Pete had caught the last part of your conversation because Bob had called Phoenix over and challenged her into a dart match.

It was around midnight when all of you decided to call it a night. You held Pete's hand, swaying it as you walked towards his bike as he waved a last few goodbyes. Pete didn’t want to waste time on the road because you arrived back to his place in no time. He let you in and you made your way to his room, taking off the jacket he lent you along with your clothes as you went through his wardrobe to borrow his shirt. 

“You and Hangman got along well today,” he said from the living room as he took off his watch and his shoes.

You chuckled, not really paying attention “Yeah, he was hilarious.” You pulled his shirt over yourself and walked into the bathroom to take off your makeup and brush your teeth.

When you got out of the bathroom you saw him still sitting there as if waiting for you and you squinted your eyes. “What?” You asked.

“What?” he replied, standing up to take off his shirt.

You gasped playfully and approached him as he tossed his shirt aside. “Are you jealous?” You asked, placing kisses on his jawline while you pushed him down gently, making him sit back down on the sofa and then straddling his lap. 

Pete scoffed, “Please. Why should I be when you’re here with me right now?” He raised an eyebrow. If you hadn’t known better, you’d say his ego could matched that of Hangman’s.

“You’ve got a point,” you replied mindlessly and kissed him, more focused on how your hips is grinding against him and you could feel him getting hard.

His hands grabbed your ass and deepened the kiss, letting his tongue swipe across yours. You moved from his lips down to his jaw and began to scoot lower, trailing kisses until you knelt in between him on the floor. You could see the bulge in his pants, so you unzipped his jeans and freed his semi-hard cock. Looking at him through your lashes, you began to lick him, lubricating it the best you can before pumping it.

Pete brushed the hair out of your face as you felt him throb in your hand and you leaned forward and began to take him into your mouth, starting out with sucking the tip. His head fell back in ecstasy as he hissed. Smiling a little, you began to take him in deeper while your hand massaged the rest of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

His hand went from gently stroking your hair to grabbing a handful of it, completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him as you continued to suck his thick girth.

"Stop, baby. C’mere,” he said, knowing full well that he was close as he grabbed your chin. He wiped you off with his finger and kissed you, instantly flipping you over so you were lying down on the sofa. “Close your eyes. Wait here,” he instructed as he moved off of you. You obeyed him and kept your eyes closed, though you were impatient, already starting to touch yourself while you waited.

You felt the sofa dip under his weight as he sat on the other end. You felt him slid your panties down your legs and once they’re off, he hovered on top of you once again. “Open your eyes,” Pete said. “Keep your eyes on me,” he instructed once again, and so you did. was when you hear a small buzz and felt a vibration against your sensitive nub.

You gasped, closing your eyes as your body jerked. Pete grinned a little and kissed your lips. “Open your eyes, honey,” he said again as he began to circle the little bullet vibrator on your clit.

“Fuck!” you hissed. “That’s cheating,” you pouted, and so he chuckled but instead of stopping, he increased the vibration against your sopping wet cunt. You let out a loud whine and gripped Pete’s hand that was holding the vibrator against your clit.

“You want me to stop?” He asked, teasing you. You were to wrapped up in the feeling of the vibrator moving and vibrating against your pussy that you couldn’t form the words to answer him. “Baby, answer me,” he said, taking the vibrator off to tease you.

“No, don’t stop, please,” you begged, grabbing for his hand. The man chuckled and pressed the vibrator against your aching hole, slowly pushing it in. You arched your back, your nails digging into his skin as you held on to him for dear life.

Pete sat up, pressing your leg up against your chest. He toyed with your clit as he kept the vibrator inside you, pulsing it in and out, driving you insane. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as you savored every touch and vibration against you. You then felt his mouth on your clit. You could no longer control your moans as you felt your climax approaching. 

“I’m cumming,” you managed to say. All of a sudden, everything stopped. He pulled the vibrator out of you and tossed it on the floor. He stopped eating you out and you whine in protest.

But before you could say anything to complain, he pushed his member into you in one fell swoop, bottoming out easily because of how slick your pussy was. You screamed his name, relishing in the way the sudden stretch was both painful and pleasurable. 

“Good girl,” he said, kissing your lips. He wasted no time in letting you adjust to his size and began to thrust into you at steady speed. 

His arm snuck underneath your body and wrapped around your shoulders to bring you closer to him as if that was possible. “Come on, I want to feel you come around me,” he said, his fingers now massaging your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

The feeling of his hand on your clit, his sharp thrusts, and the way he grunted in your ear sent you into a spiral. Your legs shook as you came, his name was the only thing you could say in between your moans. Your muscles clenched around him, but that didn’t stop the man from thrusting in and out of you. 

“I got you, baby,” he said, kissing your neck as you came around his cock. You could feel your juices dripping out of you, staining his couch.

Your climax subsided, but Pete was chasing his. His picked up the pace, pushing his weight against you as you slowly came down from your high. Just when you were about to to take a deep breath, he found your spot and sent waves of pleasure, causing you to bury your head in his shoulder, your moans muffled into his skin. 

“Oh my God, right there!” You moaned, your voice trembling from the way your body shook as he fucked you raw. “Don’t stop,” you begged him.

Your pussy was still so sensitive from your last climax, and the way his cock keeps on rubbing against your g-spot made you certain that you were going to cum twice in a row.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted. His rhythm was getting sloppy and you knew he was close too. Feeling himself getting closer and closer, Pete rammed inside you faster and faster.

Your moans became louder and before you knew it, he grunted in your ear, calling out your name as you felt his warm cum deep inside you. You took your fingers and rubbed your own clit, desperate to chase your own high for the second time. You came just in time for him to thrust the last few ropes of cum into you, your body shaking with pleasure as you held on to him. 

Pete chuckled as he watched your combined juices drip down your pussy even with his dick still inside you. He stroked your hair and peppered kisses all over your neck, shoulders, and chest, waiting for you to come down from your high.

“That was amazing,” you sighed, unable to move. 

“You’re amazing,” he said, still leaving kisses all over you. “I love you,” he said in between.

You giggled as he kissed a ticklish spot in your neck. He moved to kiss your lips slow and sweet.

“Round two?” Pete asked, a sly smirk on his face.

tag list: @flyinlove @jonginvlog @callsignsmaverick @thisis-theway

How about where you are hanging out with jungkook a lot and yeonjun gets really jealous and tries to show you who you belong to 🥺

! - oral [face fucking], degradation, spitting, orgasm denial

it’s been a while since yeonjun directed a word at you and from his expression, you can tell he’s far from happy - jaw locked, knuckles white from his tight grip on the steering wheel and chest heaving up and down with each heavy breath. you didn’t dare mention it throughout your journey back home but you knew there was something going on that was messing with his head. yeonjun never got this angry and, perhaps, his newly found mood was what prevented you from building up the courage to ask until he was done parking outside his apartment.

Keep reading

Siren

Summary : Bucky is obsessed with you. He is insanely, hopelessly, unhealthily obsessed with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Grumpy x Sunshine, Wife!reader, sweet!reader, sex references. Love taken to an extreme. A lot of cursing, Congressman!Bucky, threats, obsessive love bordering on stalking, possessive love. Overprotective!Bucky, Jealous! Bucky, dark!Bucky, dark!you, Overprotective!you. You are Sam and Sarah’s childhood best friend, canon-typical violence. I feel like I have to disclose that Bucky does not hurt you at any point in this story. Let me know if I miss anything! 

Word count : 8.9k

Note : This is probably my most cursing-heavy story. This is fictional story, so please do not get into an unhealthily obsessive relationship irl. I will also be posting a new part of Super Soldier Support Group tomorrow! Enjoy!

It started with a casual gathering at the Wilson Family home. Nothing fancy, just good food, loud music, and a backyard full of people laughing. 

It was warm, the kind of sticky Louisiana heat that made the air feel weirdly refreshing— the perfect day for Sam to throw one of his famous family cookouts.

Bucky hadn’t wanted to go, not that day anyway. He had not been sleeping well that week, and that made him grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual. 

He wasn’t sure if he could handle the crowd, or the small talk. 

But Sam had insisted, and somehow a sleep-deprived Bucky found himself standing in the corner of the docks, watching from a distance while the party went on without him.

Then he saw you.

And suddenly, everything stopped.

You were laughing, standing next to Sarah and helping with the food. You had this bright energy about you, like sunshine breaking through a dark cloud.

From the very first moment he saw you, something inside Bucky snapped. It wasn’t attraction—it was possession. His brain, his soul, whatever dark, broken part of him that was still capable of love— latched onto you like a parasite. You were too beautiful. Too sweet. Too—fuck, what was he thinking?

“C’mon man,” Sam’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Don’t just stand there looking like you’re planning a murder. I want you to meet someone.”

Bucky frowned but let Sam drag him forward anyway. His stomach twisted when he realised Sam was leading him straight to you.

“This is my childhood best friend,” Sam introduced you, “Be nice to her, Buck.”

You turned from your conversation to face him, and…Jesus Christ.

This was even worse up close. You had such a pretty smile, and the most wonderful eyes. You didn’t even have to try to brighten up the room.

“Hi,” you greeted, offering your hand.

Bucky hesitated. He didn’t like touching strangers—hell, he barely liked touching people he knew—but then you looked at him again, and—fuck.

Before he could talk himself out of it, his flesh fingers wrapped around yours.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t react the way people so often did when they realised who he was. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you said softly. “Sam’s told me a lot about you.”

Bucky’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. All he could manage was a stiff nod.

Sam, standing beside you, cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. “Be civil, okay?” He was already overthinking this, assuming this could go sideways fast. Sam wanted you two to get along more than anything in the world— he would at least want his childhood best friend and his work best friend to be able to stand in a room together without ripping each other’s head off— but he wasn’t counting on it.

Confused, you scrunched your nose. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Bucky wanted to know the same thing.

“Because,” Sam said, exasperated, “you’re polar opposites. You’re too damn nice for your own good, and Barnes here is all doom and gloom. He hates people. You love people.”

You turned your eyes back to Bucky, considering the former winter soldier before smiling, and subsequently melting Bucky’s heart. 

“I don’t know, Sam,” you said. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

—

Bucky kept his distance throughout the day. 

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

You were too much. Too sweet, it felt like he was getting a sugar rush just looking at you. 

It was overwhelming. 

And it wasn’t just that he liked you. It was worse than that. 

In the short time he had known you, he had already begun craving you.

But you made it worse.

You sought him out, found excuses to talk to him, tried to make him laugh.

And god help him, but he liked it.

He liked the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled at him. He liked the way you said his name. He liked the way your hand traced his metal arm when you spoke to him.

“Bucky,” you called at one point, while Sam worked the grill, “Try this.”

He glanced down at the spoon you were holding out to him, brows furrowed. “What is it?”

You chuckled like you already knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “Just try it.”

He sighed, and then you pressed a hand to his chest, steadying yourself as you lifted the spoon to his lips.

He froze, and before he could even process what was happening, he was opening his mouth, letting you feed him.

You watched him, waiting for his reaction. “Well?”

Bucky blinked, chewing slowly. It was… good. Really good.

But admitting that felt like surrender, so he just shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Liar.”

Then, you laughed. 

He didn’t just want to hear it again—he needed to. It was like a drug, a high he had to chase. 

Fuck.

That was it.

That was the moment he was done for.

Because you had no idea what you’d just done. No idea that you had ruined him.

No idea that he had just decided— you were his.

—

Later, after the sun had set and most of the guests had left, Bucky sat at the edge of the porch, elbows on his knees, watching you.

Or, more accurately, he was staring at you.

You were a few feet away, laughing as AJ and Cass ran circles around you, their small hands grabbing at your arms as you playfully tried to catch them.

Bucky couldn’t look away.

He knew you were going to be his downfall, and yet he didn’t even want to fight it.

“What’s up with you, Buck?” Sam asked, sitting beside him.

Bucky didn’t move, he didn’t even respond. He barely even registered that Sam was there at all.

Sam followed his line of sight, and then groaned. “Oh, hell no.”

Still, Bucky said nothing.

Sam snapped his fingers in front of Bucky’s face. “Yo. Terminator.”

Bucky blinked. He only just realised Sam was there. “What?”

“What?” Sam repeated, voice rising. “Don’t what me! What the fuck was that?”

Bucky frowned. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Sam chuckled, teasing. “You’ve been staring at her like you’re about to drag her off to a cabin in the middle of nowhere and keep her there forever.”

Bucky’s muscles tensed. The idea did sound appealing.

“She’s nice,” Bucky said flatly.

Sam let out an amused laugh. “Nice? Nice? Barnes, you look like you want to fucking eat my childhood best friend—what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sam was joking, but he wasn’t wrong.

Bucky did want to devour you. He wanted to claim you, protect you, make sure no one else ever got the chance to touch you the way he wanted to.

It was bad.

Because for the first time in decades, Bucky wanted.

Mine, he thought. Mine, mine, mine.

And god help anyone who tried to get in his way.

—

At first, Sam was just relieved that you and Bucky got along.

And before he knew it, the four of you—you, Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin—started hanging out regularly. When she was available, Sarah was there too, usually when the get-togethers happened at her place. It wasn’t anything official, just casual. You’d grab coffee, go on late-night walks along the docks. Sometimes, the five of you spent lazy afternoons at Sarah’s while Cass and AJ tried to rope you into whatever game they were playing.

On the surface, it was just friends spending time together.

But Bucky was always a little bit too possessive.

No one really noticed.

Like when Joaquin would make a joke and you’d laugh a little too hard, Bucky would step in, resting his arm on the back of your chair. When you and Sarah got into a playful argument, and Bucky would subtly shift between you, his body positioned like a barrier.

Or when someone at a bar got a little too interested in you, and Bucky would just stare at them until they backed the fuck off.

You didn’t seem to notice.

You just smiled at Bucky. You reached for his hand when you were deep in thought, leaned into him when you laughed, gave him hugs without him even having to ask.

And he let you.

Because if he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, then he’d settle for this—for now.

—

One day, you heard a knock on your door late at night. 

When you opened it, you found Sam, Joaquin, and Bucky standing there—bruised, bloodied, and looking entirely too pleased with themselves for three men who had clearly just come back from a rough mission.

You sighed. “Come in, boys.”

They filed in, Sam  grinning as he collapsed onto your couch. Joaquin gave you a sheepish ‘sorry’ look before following. Bucky just hovered near the door.

“Sit,” you told him, already grabbing your first aid kit.

He hesitated, then dropped onto the chair closest to you. you knelt beside him.

His knuckles were raw, a few cuts marred his face, and there was a forming bruise on his forehead. You worked on him, dabbing antiseptic onto his wounds.

“Hold still,” you whispered when he shifted under your touch. When you finished, without thinking, you pressed a fleeting kiss to the bruise on his forehead. “For good measure,” you said sheepishly.

Bucky’s breath hitched.

But before he could say anything, you moved on to Sam and Joaquin, fussing over them with the same level of care.

He felt his stomach twist in dread. 

Bucky knew this was irrational. He knew you were just being a good friend.

And yet, as he sat there, watching your hands tend to them—watching you murmur reassurances, watching Joaquin grin at you and Sam chuckle under his breath— with bated breath.

He shouldn’t be jealous. He shouldn’t. You were also Sam’s friend. You were also Joaquin’s friend.

After all, you had taken care of him first. That had to mean something… right?

—

The bar was alive with noise, filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional thud of a pool ball being sunk into a pocket. It was one of those rare nights when there were no missions to worry about, no need to be on high alert. Even Sarah managed to get a babysitter for the kids. 

Sarah and Sam stood near the pool table, casually sipping on their non-alcoholic beers. Bucky nursed his whiskey— not that it would do anything to his enhanced metabolism. You had your mocktail, sweet and bright, just like you.

And then there was Joaquin.

He had spent the last hour or so flirting with the bartender, grinning as she giggled and slid him free drink after free drink. He, of course, took every single one without hesitation.

Now, he was absolutely sloshed.

“Joaquin,” Sam teased, arms crossed as he watched your drunk friend lean against the pool table. “You are so lucky you’re pretty.”

Joaquin shot him finger guns. “Gracias, hermano.”

“No,” Sarah scowled, shaking her head, pointing to the blonde behind the bar. “He’s lucky she thinks he’s pretty.”

“Let’s be honest, everyone thinks I’m pretty,” Joaquin declared, before missing his shot so badly that the cue ball bounced off the table.

Bucky rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh. 

You were next, so you stepped up to take your shot. “If anyone fucks up my shot, I am going to scream.”

And then, like a fucking menace, Joaquin swatted your pool cue mid-shot.

You gasped. “You little shit!”

Joaquin cackled.

“That’s it,” you huffed, shaking your head as you set the cue aside. “I’m getting you some water to sober up before you do something actually stupid.”

Sarah took her turn next, and Bucky… felt happy. He was among friends, leaning against the table, watching the game.

Life was good, right?

That bliss lasted all of three minutes before he realised… you were taking too long.

It didn’t take that long to get a glass of water.

He glanced up, scanning the bar for you. 

His stomach dropped. 

You were leaning against the bar, smiling up at some guy. Some asshole who looked way too interested, who was saying something that made you laugh.

Bucky’s chest burned.

Mine, he thought. 

But no. No, no, no. He had no right to feel like this. You weren’t his. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He was just a friend.

Then why the fuck did he want to break that guy’s fucking ankles for being too goddamn close to you?

Bucky knew you were beautiful. But that fucker didn’t get to look at you like that. He didn’t get to act all high and mighty, like he even had a chance—

Bucky’s grip on his pool cue tightened.

CRACK.

The cue snapped clean in half.

Sarah’s head snapped toward him. “Man— what happened?”

Sam raised a brow. “You good?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His breathing was all messed up. 

“I gotta go,” he said hastily. 

Sarah blinked. “You just crushed wood like it was a damn breadstick.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He turned on his heel and left.

—

When he got back to his hotel in the heart of New Orleans, he sat on the edge of his bed, fingers twitching.

Then, he texted you.

Got an emergency. Had to go early.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.

Oh okay!!! Hope everything’s alright <3!

You were so fucking sweet. So fucking clueless.

You had no idea that the emergency… was you.

And that if he hadn’t left, he would have smashed that guy’s face in. 

—

That night, Bucky couldn’t sleep.

It was driving him insane.

The second he closed his eyes, all he could see was you, laughing at the bar, that asshole touching you, and your body leaned just a little too close—fuck.

The obsession burned in his chest. He needed to know. Needed to be sure.

So, like a fucking lunatic, he found himself outside your Louisiana apartment at four in the morning, perched on your fire escape like a creep.

The window was dark, and there didn’t seem to be any movement inside. Maybe you weren’t even home. Maybe you were— No. No, stop. Fuck.

His metal fingers gripped against the railing. If you had taken that guy home—if that motherfucker was in there, in your bed— he didn’t know what he’d do.

"Whatcha doin’?" 

Bucky jumped, damn near slipped right off the fire escape. His heart nearly stopped.

He whirled around, ready to fight, only to see you, standing behind him.

The fuck—?

"Jesus Christ," he rasped, staring at you like you’d just teleported out of thin air. "Why are you on the fire escape?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Why are you on the fire escape?"

Bucky scowled. “I asked you first.”

You shrugged, completely unfazed, and just climbed through the window. "I forgot my keys."

Bucky blinked.

You turned to look at him expectantly. “Well? Are you coming in or what?”

…What the fuck was wrong with you? Why weren’t you scared?

Still, he followed you inside.

—

You made him tea.

He sat on your couch, cradling the mug in his hands while you curled up beside him, watching him with curiosity.

“So,” you started casually, “what was the emergency?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Nothing much,” he lied. “I fixed it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And why were you lurking outside my apartment like some weirdo?”

“I wasn’t lurking.”

You hummed, unconvinced, and sipped your tea.

Bucky let out a deep breath, rubbing a hand down his face. “I was just… checking on you.”

Your lips curved up. “Why?”

He hesitated. He couldn’t tell you the truth. Couldn’t tell you that he’d nearly lost his fucking mind at the thought of you with someone else.

But then, as if he could read your mind, you said, “If you were worried about the guy at the bar, don’t be. He’s just an old friend from high school.” You tilted your head reassuringly. “And he’s gay.”

Bucky blinked.

Oh.

Oh, he was a fucking idiot.

Embarrassment flooded his chest in waves, but it did nothing to ease the gnawing possessiveness coiling around his ribs. It didn’t matter that the guy wasn’t a threat. It didn’t change the fact that Bucky had wanted to break him in half for so much as looking at you.

You set your mug down, shifting closer. “Bucky,” you murmured, “what’s wrong?”

He clenched his teeth. “I have to say something.”

You tilted your head, adorably waiting.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” The words felt dragged out from his throat like he’d been choking on them.

You took a deep breath. “Oh?”

Bucky let out a huff of air, fingers twitching at his sides. “I think—I know—I love you.”

There it was. The confession he could never take back.

Your eyes relaxed as you put your mug down. 

That’s it. This was your rejection. Bucky was sure. 

But then, without hesitation, you cradled his cheeks gently and pulled him down in a bruising kiss.

Bucky groaned into your mouth, hands fisting in your skirt, pulling you closer.

And when you whispered, “I love you, too,” against his lips—

He was fucking gone.

Love wasn’t supposed to be this… all-consuming. It wasn’t supposed to feel like madness. But that was what his love was.

He was everywhere—his greedy hands, both metal and flesh. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, and Bucky growled, lifting you into his lap like you weighed nothing.

You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding against him in a way that sent his brain into overload.

And when you rocked your hips against his again. when you gasped at him, teasing, taunting—

Bucky snapped.

Suddenly, you were beneath him, pinned to the couch, his body trapping you.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped.

You bit your lip, eyes dark. “Then show me.”

And fuck, did he.

—

The next morning, Bucky jolted awake to the ring of your doorbell. 

For a second, he was disoriented, his brain sluggish, mind still drunk on you.

You were sprawled half on top of him, face buried against his chest. His metal arm was wrapped around you, fingers splayed across your bare back.

The bell rang impatiently again. And then— knock knock knock.

"Yo, wake up!" Sarah shouted.

His eyes flicked to the clock— 9:42 AM.

Carefully, he untangled himself from you, doing his best not to wake you as he slid out of bed. He barely managed to pull his sweats on before another knock rattled the door.

He opened it.

“Huh,” Sarah grinned.

Bucky’s scowl deepened. “What?”

“Don’t what me.” Sarah gestured, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky’s chest. “What the fuck is this?”

Bucky’s teeth clenched. “None of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is.” Sarah crossed him her arms and almost cackled.

Bucky just let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was still way too tired for this.

Sarah smirked, waggling her eyebrows. “So? How was it? You’re, like, a hundred years old— did your back hold up?”

“Go,” Bucky gritted.

“Relax,” Sarah shook her head, shoving your wallet into his chest. "Your girl left this in my car."

Bucky blinked, but his mind was still buffering on the part when she called you his girl. "Sarah—“

She held up her hand. "Hey, I’m happy for you. Really. But I’ve known her since we were both in diapers, so uh—" she leaned in. "If you hurt her, just know I will kill you."

Bucky huffed. As if. “Yeah, yeah."

"Good talk." She said as she turned to leave.

From the bed, you stirred, mumbling sleepily, “Was that Sarah?”

Bucky climbed back in beside you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You hummed, curling back into his chest. “Mmkay.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Mine, he thought.

And this time, you knew it too.

—

It had been two years since that night when everything changed.

You had since moved to Brooklyn with Bucky, and had since built a home together.

Two years of waking up with you in his bed.

Two years of you stealing his shirts, dancing around the kitchen in nothing but one of his Henleys and a pair of socks.

Two years of Bucky being so obsessed with you it was a goddamn miracle he let you leave out of his sight at all.

His hand was always on you—on your lower back, your thigh, wrapped around your wrist when you got too distracted in public. His eyes always tracked you whenever you so much as moved. 

Bucky knew it probably wasn’t healthy to be this obsessed— but who the fuck cares?

Besides, no one had noticed. Not really.

Sam rolled his eyes when Bucky hovered too close in public. Joaquin just assumed Bucky was overprotective. Sarah thought it was sweet.

None of them knew just how deep it went.

How Bucky watched you when you slept, how he memorised the way your breath hitched when you dreamed. How he could track scent in a crowd, how he could tell the different sounds of your shoes.

How, sometimes, he just stared at you with this feral, carnal need to keep you his forever.

So one night, he did something about it.

It wasn’t a grand proposal. There were no speeches, no flowers, no kneeling at all.

Bucky just slipped a diamond ring onto your finger as you sat curled up beside him on the couch.

"Let’s get married," he said.

It was not a question. It was a statement.

You looked down at your hand and blinked, joy seeping into your chest. You looked back up at him, tilting your head.

“Okay,” you smiled.

Of course you were gonna marry him. Of course.

It was the most obvious thing in the world.

And Buck felt something primal and dark settle inside him. 

“Good girl,” he said, grabbing your chin and tilling them up to kiss you. 

—

The ceremony was small — just a few close friends and family.

Sam stood at the front, grinning like an idiot, though he was definitely in tears. He tried to deny it, but everyone knew when Sarah dramatically announced she was out of tissues and had to make a store run.

You wore a simple white dress, the sunlight making the lace look holy. 

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you. He wasn’t sure how he could even breathe. You were so goddamn beautiful, and all he could think was mine.

Mine, mine, mine. 

He held your hands tightly, every vow he spoke was drenched in devotion.

When Sam pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky crashed his lips against yours, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you so desperately it was like he thought you'd disappear. Joaquin cheered, Sarah covered AJ and Cass’ eyes, and Sam muttered something about needing another box of tissues.

But Bucky didn’t care. You were his wife. 

His. 

Later, at the small reception, he barely let you out of his sight. His hand stayed glued to your waist, his lips brushed against your temple every other minute. He religiously watched the way you smiled, the way you laughed, admired the sparkle of your wedding ring — a ring he’d spent months obsessing over.

“Mine,” he whispered against your skin more times than you could count.

—

A year after the wedding, Bucky somehow found himself on the campaign trail. Sam had roped him into it, convinced the world needed someone like him in Capitol Hill— someone with a backbone, a heart, and a no-bullshit attitude. And because Bucky couldn’t say no to his best friend (or to you, when you’d smiled and told him he’d be perfect for it), he ran.

And won.

He was now Congressman James Buchanan Barnes.

But no matter how powerful or important he became, you were still his priority. You were the first person he called after every meeting, the one who made the stuffy suits and long hours bearable. 

And fuck, did he spoil you rotten. He got a four-bedroom Brownstone when you both moved to DC. For the kids to grow up in, he had told you, when you were ready, of course. The house was under your name.

He bought you designer dresses, diamond earrings, the kind of perfume that smelled like liquid gold. Anything you so much as look at, Bucky was ordering it before you even thought to ask.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you’d say, laughing as another velvet box showed up at your doorstep.

“I want to,” Bucky would grumble, nuzzling into your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you. “I’m your husband. I want to make sure you have everything you want.”

And he meant it.

Then one day, you asked for something that actually made him think.

“I want a pretty knife.”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

“For self-defense,” you explained casually. “You know. Just in case.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “You?” He asked, still trying to make sense of it. “But Sweetheart, you’re—” He paused, searching for the right word. “You’re so… sweet.”

You smiled at him…. And that fucking smile.

Bucky swore you could’ve asked him for the moon and he would’ve tried to lasso it down for you. But a knife? He wasn’t sure whether you could even use it.

Still, you wanted it. So you got it.

Bucky made a few calls, and soon you had a beautifully crafted knife with a marble handle. He even made you practice holding it, standing behind you with his arms wrapped around yours, guiding your hand in slow movements.

You caught on so quickly. He was so proud.

But despite all the lessons, Bucky wasn’t entirely convinced you’d ever actually use it.

“Baby, if anyone even looks at you the wrong way, I’d handle it,” he insisted one night, watching you twirl the knife in your fingers like a toy. “No one’s gonna touch you.”

You giggled, leaning up to kiss him. “Just in case, okay?”

Bucky nodded, nipping at your collarbone, “Okay.”

—

Sometimes, the world forgot Bucky Barnes had always been a dangerous man.

Sure, to the public, he was a polished congressman— the war hero turned politician, a man who fought for justice and all that. At the state galas, he smiled for the cameras, shook hands with donors, and played the role of the perfect politician. And with your radiant and sweet charm on his arm, everyone ate it up. You were the darling wife of Congressman Barnes, the woman who could make the room hold their breath.

But they didn’t realise how violently obsessed Bucky was with you.

He watched every interaction you had at those events. He eventually had a little notepad where he hastily scribbled the name of every man who looked at you too long,  an arrogant politician who thought they could pry you away from him. They thought you were too innocent to be with the former winter soldier— They thought they could whisper something suggestive in your ear or brush their hand along your back without consequence.

But Bucky always noticed.

He’d smile, even laugh sometimes, as if the petty attempts didn’t bother him. But they did. They fucking consumed him. His teeth would grind against each other, his grip on your waist would tighten, and his eyes would darken into a stormy blue— all while the poor bastard standing in front of him had no idea just how badly he’d fucked up.

Bucky had a routine. After the gala, he’d walk you out and hand you to his driver.

He would lean down, whispering softly into your ear.

“Head to the car, baby. I’ve got something to take care of.”

You never questioned it. You’d smile, kiss his cheek, and do as he asked.

And once you were gone, Bucky would… pay them a visit.

The man who let his hand wander a little too low on your back? The one who called you “darling” like he had any fucking right? 

Bucky found him in a secluded corner of the marbled building of Washington DC, his steel-blue eyes cold and calculating.

“You think you can touch what’s mine?” Bucky growled.

He had always been clever. He had always chosen a corner with no cameras. No witnesses. Then, he’d whisper a threat, one that left grown men trembling.

But sometimes threats weren’t enough.

One time, he got fed up with a senator’s son who had too much to drink. He’d cornered you by the bar, his hand grabbing your arm and waist, lips curling into a wicked smirk. 

You’d laughed politely, excused yourself, and found your way back to Bucky. But the damage had been done

Later that night, Bucky found him.

It wasn’t pretty.

The next morning, the senator’s son was seen with a cast on his wrist, stammering about a “bad fall.” 

No one questioned it, 

After all, accidents happen.

That sick, satisfied feeling always found its way to his chest. Though the real satisfaction always came when he hopped in the car. 

He’d find you taking off your heels, waiting for him in the back seat. You’d smile at him, oblivious to the violence he’d just left in his wake. And when you asked, “Did everything go okay?” Bucky would just smile, lean down, and kiss you.

Because Bucky Barnes was a kind person, a great friend, a wonderful husband, and an honest man. But after decades of isolation, torture, and conditioning, he would never truly be a good man again. But for you, he would pretend to be.

—

Still, like any other job, Bucky had bad weeks. And this week had been hell.

Bucky had come home late every night.

Between his work in Congress and the bills he was trying to push through, the DC police department had asked for his help in identifying some vigilante called Siren.

Now, he barely had time to breathe.

You hated seeing him like this. He was always so strong, so put-together, but lately, stress had carved itself into his shoulders, a permanent tightness in his back muscles.

It didn’t help that Senator Mitchell was being a prick, as usual. The man thrived on opposing Bucky’s every move, shooting down every proposal like it was his life’s mission to make your husband miserable.

And then there was Congressman Davis. From what you’ve heard, he was an arrogant, insufferable bastard who had spent the last few weeks blocking one of Bucky’s most important bills.

So when Bucky had muttered “God, I fucking hate that guy” over breakfast one morning, you’d simply nodded.

The next day, Congressman Davis didn’t show up to work.

Broke both legs in a freak accident, according to the news.

Bucky had stared at the article. “That’s… weird.”

“You think?” you tilted your head.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. “Honestly, I don’t have time to care. Mitchell is still a pain in my ass, and now the DC police want me to help them identify some masked vigilante tearing through the city.”

That made your stomach flip, but you kept your eyes neutral as he tossed a thick file onto the table.

“Siren?” you asked, watching him flip through the grainy surveillance images. The black-clad figure was barely visible. The only clear detail was the glint of a knife in her hand.

Bucky snorted. “What kind of name is Siren, anyway?”

You shrugged. “I think it’s kinda sexy.”

Bucky shot you an amused look.

You shrugged, leaning on the counter. “What do they want from you?”

“They want me to analyse the footage, see if I recognise any combat techniques,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples. “As if I can ID someone from a couple of blurry images.”

You hummed in response, flipping through the file again. 

“Maybe she doesn’t wanna be found.” you offered.

“No shit.” Bucky frowned. 

—

That night, Bucky sat at his desk, eyes narrowed at the open file in front of him. His fingers tapped against the wood as he studied the images again. Something about her was… familiar. 

You watched from the doorway, wrapped in a silk robe.

He needs a distraction, you thought. 

You walked across the room, slipping behind him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pressed fluttering kisses to his neck.

Bucky sighed, leaning into your touch. “Baby…”

“You’re stressed,” you whispered, biting the lobe of his ear.

“I just— I can’t get a read on her,” he admitted, rolling his shoulders. “On top of that, I have to deal with Mitchell tomorrow.”

You glanced at the photo he was studying—Siren, breaking the arm of an arms dealer. Poetic justice.

You said nothing, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

Your fingers trailed lower, sliding down his chest, nails lightly scraping against his skin through his shirt. “I think you need a break.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “Baby, I—”

When you stepped back, his words died in his throat.

Because you had untied your robe.

And underneath, a lingerie set that he’d picked out for you weeks ago, the one that had him practically drooling when you tried it on.

The chair scraped back so fast it nearly toppled over.

Then, Bucky was lifting you onto the desk, his hands gripping your thighs, sliding up your sides, mapping out every inch of exposed skin as if he hadn’t memorised everything already. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, lips ghosting over your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, sweet girl.”

You giggled, threading your fingers through his hair. “I just thought my dear husband needed a break.” You batted your eyes innocently.

Bucky’s lips met yours in a bruising kiss. His hands kneaded your hips, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you.

“S’not fair,” he muttered against your lips, his lovely Brooklyn drawl slipping out. “I was workin’.”

“Oh?” You smiled innocently, nails raking down his back. “You wanna go back to your case?”

Bucky growled, lifting you effortlessly as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Fuck no.”

And with that, he carried you to your bedroom. 

Siren was forgotten, for now. 

—

That night, after you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, you casually said, “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

Bucky frowned immediately, towel-drying his damp hair as he leaned against the doorframe. “Alone?”

You’d done this before, but never this late. 

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle myself, honey.”

He crossed his arms, “That’s not the point.”

You sighed, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let you go—reluctantly. At least you had your knife with you. 

—

By the time you got back, you were sweaty, chest rising and falling like you’d just finished a workout.

Bucky, who was sitting on the couch, immediately stood up and walked over to you. He looked at you, studying in the slight flush in your cheeks, the damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead.

He tilted his head. “You said you were going for a walk.”

You wiped at your brow. “Yeah, well… guess I went for a jog instead.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you jog?”

You shrugged. “Felt like I had some energy to burn.”

His eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, trying to assess the situation, but then you stood on your toes and kissed him.

Suddenly, he wasn’t questioning anything anymore.

—

The next day in Capitol Hill, Senator Mitchell had a black eye.

A nasty one, too. It was swollen and bruised, red against his pale skin.

Mitchell barely spoke all session, and when Bucky had the floor, the senator didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t sneer. Didn’t open his mouth to object.

He just sat there, shifting uncomfortably, trying his hardest not to look at Bucky.

Weird.

—

Before heading home, Bucky had one last piece of business to handle.

An overconfident diplomat from last week’s charity gala had overstayed his welcome in the city, unlucky for him. 

He had touched your arm without permission, his fingers lingering just a little too long on your skin. Bucky had been across the room that night, but even distance couldn’t dull his rage. 

By the end of the night, the bastard had vanished into the crowd.

That had been frustrating. But patience was something Bucky had in abundance when it came to protecting what was his.

So when he overheard a passing remark today that the diplomat was still in town, he found out where he was staying and simply went to the hotel lobby.

Bucky sat comfortably in a leather armchair, looking like just another guest winding down from a long day. He even smiled when his target stepped through the elevator doors.

Bucky stood and intercepted the man, placing himself just close enough that escape wouldn’t be an option. “Nice to see you again,” Bucky greeted, his voice almost pleasant. The diplomat barely had time to register the danger before Bucky leaned in, that same eerie smile still in place.

“If you so much as look at my wife again, I’ll break your fucking nose so badly, they’ll have to rebuild it from the inside out. And even then, it’ll never sit fucking right ever again.” Bucky said, though his tone was conversational. To anyone else, it would look as if he was commenting on the weather. “And that’ll be the least of your problems.”

The man swallowed hard, his overconfidence crumbling.

Satisfied, Bucky patted his shoulder once, before walking away. On the drive home, he pulled a pen from the glove compartment and calmly crossed the man's name off his list.

When he finally stepped through the door, he smiled to see you finishing up dinner. Bucky told you he could just hire a personal chef, but you insisted that you wanted to make his meals, to be his perfect housewife. 

Without a word, he tugged you into his lap, burying his face against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, “You know you’re mine, right, baby?” he said, his hands tightening around you. “Only mine.”

—

The next morning, you found him in the kitchen, reading over yet another Siren case file.

You pouted, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his back. “Buckyyy.”

He chuckled, placing his hand over yours. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I lost my knife,” you mumbled.

Bucky paused. “Lost it?”

No. No, you wouldn’t be so careless. 

Did someone take it from you? Did someone touch you?

The mere thought sent Bucky into a violent spiral, his fingers itched for blood.

Because if someone had taken it from you—if someone had dared to lay their filthy hands on what was his—they were going to wish they were never alive.

You nodded against his skin. “I think I dropped it during my morning run.”

He turned, relieved that you were just a bit careless. He lifted your chin with two fingers, thumb brushing your bottom lip as you gave him your best adorable pout. 

“My sweet girl,” he said. “You gotta be more careful.”

You blinked up at him, a little upset. “I liked that knife.”

He chuckled before letting out a deep breath. He could never be mad at you. So he just exhaled, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I’ll get you another one, baby. Whatever you want.”

You beamed. “Really?”

“Of course.” His fingers tightened slightly on your chin. “But you tell me next time you go for an early run. Don’t like you out there alone.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You worry too much.”

—

Within a week, Bucky gave you a new knife— a replacement for the one you lost. But calling it just a knife would be an insult.

It was stunning.

The handle was custom-made, dark metal inlaid with delicate floral, perfectly molded to fit your grip. The blade was wickedly sharp, and yet, it wasn’t just a weapon. It was art.

You turned it over in your hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. “You spoil me," you said, testing the weight in your palm. It was perfect.

Bucky smiled, satisfied. "Darling, I haven’t even started."

And just when you thought he couldn’t get any worse, he handed you something else— a little holster, custom-made to hold your new knife. The leather was buttery soft, made to fit against your thigh or tuck neatly under your jacket.

“Specially made for you,” he said proudly, brushing his lips over your cheek, then your jaw. “Gotta keep my good girl safe.”

Your stomach flipped.

What you didn’t know was that, because Bucky was a completely unhinged, lovesick lunatic, he had slipped a tiny tracking device into your holster—one discreet enough that you’d never notice. But that wasn’t all. The device also had a built-in listening function, so it was silently transmitting your location and every sound around you straight to a hidden app on his phone.

Not because he didn’t trust you.

But because the thought of you out there, alone without his protection— drove him insane.

So he made sure that, no matter where you went, he’d always be able to find you.

So now, if anyone so much as breathed wrong in your direction, Bucky would hear it. 

And he’d handle it.

—

The next morning, Bucky’s phone rang. It was an unlisted number from DC Police.

He sighed, already dreading whatever mess was waiting for him. But before he even thought about leaving, he had to take care of something far more important.

You.

Still hazy from sleep, you barely had time to blink before Bucky was on you, pressing you deeper into the mattress, his lips peppering gentle yet desperate kisses across every inch of exposed skin. Your cheek, your shoulders, the delicate curve of your throat.

"Just reminding you how much I love you before I go to work,” he nuzzled you.

You hummed, tilting your head to grant him better access. He took full advantage, dragging his mouth down your throat, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there. His teeth grazed your pulse point, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Be good, baby,” he whispered against your lips, still unwilling to leave. 

You smiled, all sweet innocence. “I’m always a good girl.”

Bucky groaned, pressing one last kiss to your lips before reluctantly pulling away.

For now.

—

The moment Bucky stepped into the precinct, conversations halted. Officers froze, whispering behind their hands.

Bucky’s eyes flickered around the room, landing on the open file waiting for him on the table.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

Detective Ramirez, a no-nonsense woman who had been working in DC longer than most high schoolers have been alive, flipping through the folder. “We did a lot of digging last night… and Siren’s been operating a lot longer than we thought.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as she laid out the evidence.

“We traced activity back a couple years. Louisiana. Then Brooklyn. And now, D.C.” 

Huh. What a weird coincidence. Those are all the places you’ve lived in.

She shook her head. “She’s been at this for a long time.”

The grainy surveillance images showed the same shadowy figure— always disappearing before authorities could get close. But it was clear now. This wasn’t just some local vigilante.

“She started with street-level criminals—gangs, traffickers, arms dealers. But lately?” Ramirez slid a new set of photos across the table.

Congressman Davis. Senator Mitchell.

What?

“Both men had been attacked in the last three months. Different incidents. Different locations. But the same signature,” she explained, shaking her head. They’re terrified,” Ramirez continued. “Refused to talk, barely gave us any details because they’re convinced Siren will come back and… finish the job.”

Bucky stayed silent, his mind racing. 

Something wasn’t adding up.

“And then there’s this in the crime scene. We believe it’s hers.” Ramirez reached into an evidence bag, carefully unwrapping something small wrapped in cloth. She placed it on the table and slid it toward him.

Bucky’s stomach dropped.

A knife.

Not just any knife.

Your knife.

The one he had given you.

The one you had lost.

He reached for it, turning it over in his gloved hand. It was unmistakable in its design.

Bucky clenched his teeth, forcing his expression to remain neutral.

Because if he let anything slip—if they saw even the slightest reaction—he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain this.

—

Bucky came home late that night, his mind clouded and fearful.

The evidence was stacked against you, but he refused to believe it. You couldn't be Siren. No—maybe she had stolen your knife. Maybe someone was trying to frame you. Maybe—

Then he saw the note.

"Went for a run. Be back soon <3"

Bullshit.

His gut twisted with the kind of instinctual, primal warning that had kept him alive for decades. Maybe he thought the handwriting was too neat, or maybe just knew when you were lying to him. He always did.

Metal knuckle curling into a ball, he pulled out his phone and tapped into the hidden tracking signal embedded in your holster.

You were nowhere near a park, or a public road for that matter. Instead, you were in a wealthy neighbourhood on the other side of town.

Then he turned on the listening device.

A second later, your voice crackled through the speaker. You sounded eerily calm. “A little birdie told me you were planning to block the new Veteran Act."

Bucky’s breath hitched. He had told you about that bill he had been spearheading. About how Jones—that corrupt prick—was going to block it before it even had a chance.

And now you must be standing in front of him, threatening him.

He heard the unmistakable whisper of a blade slicing through the air.

Jones hesitated. “You’re insane—”

"Approve it,” he heard you sneer, “Or I’ll come back and finish the job."

Bucky’s heart slammed against his ribs. He was torn between wanting to go to you—to drag you away from this, to keep you safe—and just listening.

In hindsight, he should have known.

The "walks." The "runs." The way you had picked up knifework too quickly when he had first put a blade in your hands. The first night he kissed you, he had found you on your fire escape—because you had been doing vigilante shit after the pool bar. 

And then you spoke again, this time in a sweet sing-song tone, “If you don’t, I’ll put your head underwater until the bubbles stop."

Jones went silent.

Bucky knew you had taken mixed martial arts as a kid for self-defense, but he had never thought much of it— never imagined you still practiced, still used it.

And then, “O-okay, okay—I will.”

Fuck.

He had to admit it now. You were Siren.

Sweet, innocent you. The woman who pressed sleepy kisses against his collarbone in the morning. The woman who curled up in his lap at night, blinking up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

But that wasn’t all you were.

You were this, too. You were a predator hiding in plain sight.

And instead of being freaked out—instead of feeling betrayed or angry—Bucky was… turned on.

His breaths were uneven, chest rising and falling with arousal.

Because he knew this wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t corrupting you.

You were always like this.

Maybe, you were just waiting for someone who would be just as sick as you are.

And you found him.

—

The second you slipped through the back door, you felt his eyes on you.

You had been careful. So fucking careful.

You had changed in the garden shed.  You wiped the sweat and dirt from your skin, slipping into an oversized hoodie, leggings, sneakers that were scuffed just enough to sell the illusion. By the time you stepped inside, you looked like nothing more than a tired, unsuspecting wife coming home from an innocent late-night run.

So you played your part.

You plastered a sleepy smile onto your face. “Hey, honey."

Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

He just sat there, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together.

What’s going on?

"How’s Senator Jones?" He said calmly, too calmly. 

Your stomach plummeted.

The room felt like it had shrunk, walls pressing in. Everything was suffocating.

You blinked at him, feigning confusion. “What?"

Bucky tilted his head, the ghost of an amused smile playing at his lips.

"I know you’re Siren."

Your breath stalled.

A million reasons went through your rolodex of excuses, each one weaker than the last. But when you looked at him, at the certainty in his eyes, you knew there was no use denying it.

He knew.

But two could play at that game.

So instead of panic, you kept yourself calm. 

“Oh?” You arched a brow, voice smooth as silk. "And how’s that diplomat from that gala? Heard you took care of him."

For the first time since you came back, Bucky faltered.

“Y-You knew?” He stammered.

You saw the moment it hit him, the way his pupils blew wide.

"Of course I knew, baby,” you said sweetly, stepping closer. You could see the tension in his shoulders, "I know about your list, Bucky. I see your murderous rage every time."

Bucky’s muscles tightened. His breath became shallow, heart thrumming against his ribs.

You sighed, walking past him to a compartment under the island kitchen, pulling out a small, battered notebook. You flipped it open, then placed it in his hands.

Bucky’s fingers tightened around it as he scanned the pages.

What was this?

It was his list—mirrored.

The same names. The same faces. The same fucking targets. So you could keep track of who he was after. 

But alongside them, you had your own notes. Your observations.

Log entries tracking him— where he had been sighted, what areas he had stalked, what time he usually came home. Notes on when he was distracted. When he was asleep. When you could slip out and do your little crime fighting routine. You had copies of all the numbers in his contacts— classified or otherwise.

You even had pictures of him from the goddamn Capitol Hill security cameras. From his usual coffee shops. From his favourite supermarket.

His hands started shaking, because between the scribbled words, between the ink and the scratched-out sentences, there’s something familiar.

Not just in the thoughts.

But in the way they’re written. They were scrawled in a rush, like they were obsessive.

And then, just beneath one of the messier lines, there’s a word—so small, so easy to miss. ‘Mine.’

Sweet, darling, unassuming you, had a dark side.

You were just like him.

A perfect reflection. A mirror image of his own madness.

His throat felt dry. "You—" He swallowed. "You kept track of me?"

You tilted your head innocently. "Oh, sweetheart."

But if you thought that was something—

Bucky moved, crossing the room and yanked open the bottom drawer of the TV stand. His movements were almost aggressive as he pulled out a thick, leather-bound book.

Not his little notebook. 

This was different.

And then he handed it to you.

The second you flipped it open, your heart stopped.

It wasn’t names.

It wasn’t targets.

It was you.

Pages upon pages, filled with cramped, meticulous handwriting.

Your detailed wardrobe, all of your perfumes, observations of what you smelled like after a shower versus after a long day. An analysis of how your voice changed when you were lying. The exact shade your lips turned when you were cold. Your coffee orders in all the cafes you’ve ever been to, your favourite snacks. There was even a paragraph of the way you twirled your fork when you ate pasta. The names and addresses of all of your exes— where they lived, where they work, where they shop.

Your entire existence, laid bare.

A record. A worship. A fucking obsession.

Then, you both realised. 

You were just two absolute fucking lunatics, hopelessly, unhealthily obsessed with each other.

The two of you had been circling each other like predators for years— watching, tracking, leaving breadcrumbs of obsession in each other’s worlds without even realising it.

You weren’t just people to each other.

You were religion.

You were scripture.

Two minds running parallel, equally deranged, equally consumed— until you inevitably collided. 

You licked your lips slowly, the corner of your mouth curling as you looked up at him through your lashes. You knew what you were doing— of course you did.

With a voice as saccharine as it was wicked, you whispered, "I’m still your good girl."

Bucky fucking shattered.

A wrecked groan tore from his throat. His grip felt like iron chains as he gripped your waist, shoving you against the nearest surface— the kitchen counters. But you barely noticed, too focused on the way his hands clawed at you, like even after all these years, he still needed to mark you, ruin you.

His lips were on you in an instant, first on your lips, then trailing down your throat.

And then he dropped to his knees.

A fucking worshipper at your altar.

A zealot ready to die a martyr.

His hands gripped your thighs, firm enough to bruise, and he tilted his head up to look at you, pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted.

He was completely undone. Completely yours.

A satisfied smile spread across your face as you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him whimper.

"But you’re also my good boy,” you teased, “aren’t you?"

His groan was ruinous.

His eyes were wild, desperate, and fucking feral.

"Yeah, baby," he nodded, voice wrecked, hands trailing up, gripping the curve of your hips. "Yours. All yours.”

And then—

He showed you.

Because Bucky Barnes will never be a good man again.

But for you?

He’d be anything.

-end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings

far from home - I

summary: Mark Tuan had been your neighbour growing up and even when he disappeared to South Korea to become famous you two had still talked. Now, in a weird turn of events, you were following him to accept a lucrative job offer in Seoul. You expected to find a career there, to rekindle a friendship that you had missed - what you didn’t expect was Jaebeom.

warnings: eventual smut, light angst, inaccurate ideas as to how idols are able to move around the city without being mobbed by fans.

pairing: female reader/jaebeom

note: conversations fully in italics are in korean. the reader character speaks limited korean at the beginning of this story.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART TWO POINT FIVE | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT | FINALE

_______________________________________________________________________

It was 4am in Shanghai. The airport was practically empty, the only sound the distant humming of idle machinery and the occasional jarring flush of a toilet down the hall. You stared outside at the darkened tarmac, hugging your arms around your torso and trying to chase away the chill that came with being awake too early.

It didn’t quite feel like 4am to your body. It felt like early afternoon, like you should be getting something from the deli for lunch and sitting on your balcony with a glass of wine. You were glad that your phone automatically changed time zones, but it did confuse your biological clock a little.

It was another hour until your next, and final flight. Once that took off it would be about 2 hours (and one more time change) until you were in Seoul. 

You took a photo of the nearly empty airport, putting a fancy location filter onto the image before sending it to Mark. You knew he’d be awake. He had told you specifically to fly in today because he didn’t have a schedule for the next six days.

Sure enough, you watched the little red arrow turn hollow, and then he was typing something to you.

marky mark: i’m so excited! how tired are you lol

you: not at all. i’m still on l.a. time. i feel so weird.

marky mark: i bet. see you soon loser

Keep reading

Enemy - two

johnny x reader (this is mostly smut with some fluff thrown in because im soft for this man)

THIS IS BASED ON ENEMY AND WHILE YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ IT TO UNDERSTAND YOU PROBABLY SHOULD

it’s been three months since you got fucked by johnny in the elevator of your apartment building. and much to your own fault, you can’t stop thinking about him

UNEDITED

word count: 4k (this is literally so long for no reason)

warnings: language, fingering, degradation, choking, hair-pulling, overuse of the word kitten and sir and probably baby too, mentions of sex toys, vibrators, mutual masturbation for like a second, size kink if you squint, mentions of punishments, idk what to say… theres probably more because im a whore for johnny

You hadn’t spoken to Johnny since the incident. In fact, you’ve tried to avoid any encounters with him at all. You try to plan your day around whether he has already left or not, and while that’s proven rather difficult with your classes, it’s been working out ok. You had been avoiding him for a solid 3 months, only seeing him occasionally and practically sprinting away when you spotted him.

Keep reading

Prey for You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You have a thing for prey hybrids. You admit. The way they tremble under you while simultaneously baring their neck for you gets you off. It’s not your fault Chan’s friend group has so many pretty little boys that you’re constantly running south of him. You see, the wolf hybrid doesn’t very much appreciate you preying on his friends.  Warnings: switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, chan has a big dick, size kink, too much dirty talk, power dynamics, degradation, messy dirty sex so don’t @me

Credit to the gif that started my chan obsession 

Keep reading

❝thai food❞

(not my gif)

summary: you and john argue about something petty. he proceeds to fuck you into the floor.

warnings: smut, HATE SEX, oral sex m receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, arguments, pettiness, dirty talk, use of “good girl”, john cheating on his wife, etc etc etc

word count: 2.5k

a/n: *john mulaney voice* okay okay okay okay okay okay

please do not read this fic and assume that i am a john walker apologist. if you’ve been following my blog, you’ll know that i DESPISE john walker and everything he stands for, but at the same time…this is dedicated to all the people who found his descent into madness hot, i wrote this fic instead of going to therapy

(and i should really go to therapy)

so uh if this flops i was never here

Keep reading

Filthy

Summary: After a long mission, Bucky needs you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

See my Masterlist Here

"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.

You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.

That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.

You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.

Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.

The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.

One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.

He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.

You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."

Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"

Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.

You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.

"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.

Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.

He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.

He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.

You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.

"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.

"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.

His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.

His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.

You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.

He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.

He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.

He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.

His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.

His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.

His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.

He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.

He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.

His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.

You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.

You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.

Tags in the comments! ❤️

All Mine

Genre: Smutty Goodness 

Pairing: Yugyeom x Reader 

Word Count: 2000ish 

A huge round of applause for and my immense gratitude to @smuttilyeverafter for becoming my new beta writer and editing this out. 

You’re absolutely amazing <3 and I can’t thank you enough for your help 

“Yugyeom-ahh…” You exclaimed into the phone, your voice slurring from the excessive amounts of alcohol you had drank.

“Yugyeom-ahh… Come here!!” Your giggles interrupted with hiccups as you begged your boyfriend to take a break from practice and come hang out with you.

“Y/N-ah..? Are you drunk??” He asked, getting up from the dance floor, his voice laced with a mix of both concern and anger. He had been so happy to see your call but hearing your drunk voice made him infuriated and anxious beyond limits.

“Yeahh…?” You replied, still incapable of thinking properly.

“Stay where you are, I’m coming to get you” He commanded before abruptly cutting off the phone call.

You told your best friend about your leave before walking outside to get some fresh air. You knew Yugyeom was going to get beyond mad at you for getting so drunk so you decided to clear your mind a bit before talking to him again.

“Y/N-ah… Are you okay?” You heard a voice come up from behind and felt two hands resting on your shoulders.

You turned around to face whoever was behind you which brought your face inches away from Jeon Jungkook, the golden maknae of BTS.

The shy boy that had made so many advances towards you even though his entire group was extremely close with GOT7 and he knew about your relationship. But that obviously didn’t stop him from getting uncomfortably close to you whenever he got the opportunity to do so.

You backed away immediately, your cheeks flushing red after your close encounter with him.

“Yeah… I’m fine. Thanks” You responded hesitantly, your hands covering your cheeks.

He took off his jacket to provide you with some much needed warmth as he saw you shivering out in the cold.

“Oh thanks” You replied as you put on the jacket, surprised at the kind gesture.

“Come here Y/N-ah… Stay warm” He said, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer and closer to him until you could feel the heat radiating off his muscular frame.

“I don’t know when I’ll have the courage to do this again…so here it goes” He whispered into your ear, pulling your face to his as close as possible before leaning into a kiss. Your hands pushed at his chest while your eyes closed shut and all you could think about was Yugyeom.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re touching, Jeon Jungkook?” You heard a voice roar as Jungkook was literally teared away from you and landed on the ground while you were pulled into the other man’s embrace.

You looked up to see a very annoyed and highly infuriated Yugyeom. His hands stroking your hair and then cupping your cheeks to make sure you were okay.

“Jagiya… Are you okay?” He asked, his eyes should’ve been showing worry, concern but all you could see was anger and irritation. But the alcohol you had consumed, which was now circulating throughout your body, was starting to take a toll on your consciousness.

“Everything is spinning…Oppa… I think I’m gonna faint…” You wheezed before slipping out of consciousness and collapsing into Yugyeom’s arms.

When you regained your consciousness after a while, you found yourself sitting on a bed in what you presumed to be a very expensive hotel room. You heard the digits of the room’s password being pressed in before the door swung open and your boyfriend stormed inside with a drink in his hand.

He placed the glass on the bedside table with a loud thud before climbing on top of you, furiously entangling his fingers in your hair, pulling harshly as his lips kissed yours with intense fervor and desire.

“I don’t ever want you getting that drunk again… Am I clear?” He spoke in between kisses, his teeth biting your bottom lip each time.

His tongue sliding down to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting it, bruising it harsh enough for everyone to see the marks he left.

“Ye-Yes Op-Oppa—” You stuttered, your voice whimpering and moaning at his touch, your head arching back from the pleasure you felt, the alcohol still surging through your veins but now only hightening your senses with every touch.

He put his hands in the back pocket of his jeans, taking out handcuffs with which he bound you to the headboard of the bed and a velvety blindfold that robbed you of your sight.

His lips melted yours once again as he sat on top of you, his arms moving behind your back to unzip your rather short dress and dropping it on the floor without any further regard, leaving you only in your black lace underwear.

In between you could swear that you heard a faint gasp but you attributed that to the delicious haze inside your head.

“Aish… You look so fucking irresistible. So irresistible and all mine baby girl…” He cooed sweetly in your ear before unclasping your bra and throwing it somewhere on the floor. As much as he loved to adorn you in such exquisite pieces of clothing, you were so much more magnificent without them.  

“I don’t want you to make any sound Jagi” He commanded, your head nodding to it before you could even think about it.

He took off his shirt that was drenched in his sweat, throwing it onto the floor to join your other pieces of clothing.

He took the glass that had his drink from the bedside table, taking all of the clear liquid into his mouth before placing the empty glass back on the table.  

He sat down on you, his lips pressing against yours as he let the liquid seep out of his mouth and into yours, your mouth taking in each drop of water that left your throat with a soothing feeling, your tongue licking your lips clean to make sure you got each and every drop of it in your mouth. He stretched out his arm to take an ice cube from the glass and place it in his mouth.

His mouth leaned down to press the cold ice on your lips before dragging it down your neck, making you moan and whimper from the sweet pleasure. He brought the ice to your nipples, making you bite down on your lip as you tried your best to hold yourself back from moaning his name. The cool sensation of the ice on your sensitive skin making you rub your thighs as you felt your arousal dripping down on them, soaking the sheets underneath you. Your back arched from the divine lust that surged through your whole body.

He slid the ice cube over your stomach before dropping it in your belly button, having you writhe in pleasure.

“Good girl….. And all good girls deserve to be rewarded.” He whispered into your ear, his teeth moving down to your underwear that he pulled down all the way to your ankles. His soft lips pressing on your inner thighs, marking your clear skin with deep red bruises before his tongue finally licked a single stripe over your dripping folds, thrusting two of his fingers into you while his tongue licked away at your clit.

“Ahhh… Yugyeom-ah…” You moaned out at his skillful ministrations. The way he arched his fingers to hit your sweet spot over and over had you turning into a moaning mess.

“Yes baby girl… Tell me who is making you feel so good” He chuckled before thrusting his fingers inside you as deep as he could while sucking harshly on your clit, relishing in your taste. His hands held your trembling legs apart as you felt the adrenaline rush through your body.

“K-Kim.. Y-Yugyeom…” You were barely able to get those two words out of your mouth as you felt your body overcome with the pleasure you felt, the intense pleasure that your boyfriend was drawing out steadily to build up your orgasm and make it that much better for you.

He could eat you for each and every single meal of the day and still be not even close to getting tired of your divine taste but the intense craving of his cock for your hot and wet tightness couldn’t be held back anymore.

He pulled away from you, making you whimper at the sudden loss of heat but you were promptly turned on your back, the palm of his hand lightly smacking your ass as he lifted you by the waist such that your heated core was pressing on his hard bulge.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting it drop to his knees along with his boxers before thrusting into you in one go, making you cry out his name as you were thrusted forward. His cock filled you up entirely, hitting your deepest and sweetest spots that made you moan so loudly. His mouth moving to nibble at your shoulder as he pounded hard and fast into you.

“Oppa… I… I’m close”

You were panting, moaning as you could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly and your walls clenching down on his cock as harshly as it possibly could.

“Me too Jagi… Just a little…more” He moaned into your ear before moving his fingers to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb vigorously, making your nails harshly dig into the palm of your hand.

Soon, you were knocked out with your orgasm, the overwhelming bliss that had your mind filled with the satisfaction of your release.

His fingers dug into your hips with his final thrusts as he pushed his entire length deeper and deeper into you until he finally came, filling you up with his white, hot fluid. He thrusted into you a few more times to make sure that every drop of his release was inside you, your tight walls milking his cock for all it had left.  

You could hear a faint moan and whimper from the corner of the room but you were too exhausted to question it as you collapsed on the bed, Yugyeom’s release seeping down your thighs and onto the sheets.

He undid your handcuffs and let you lay down on the bed before going to grab a cloth with which he cleaned you up with. He sat on the bed, placing you on his lap as he stroked your hair and cheeks, pressing light kisses on your lips that made you smile.

“Jagi… You can take off your blindfold now” He whispered into your ear before biting down on your earlobe.

You slowly moved your hands up to take the blindfold off, dropping that velvety piece of cloth onto the bed before entwining your fingers in his hair as you kissed him. You only stopped when you caught a glimpse of someone sitting by the couch that faced the bed.

It was Jeon Jungkook.

And he just saw you having sex with your boyfriend.

You looked at the poor boy, his forehead drenched in sweat as his trembling hand was wrapped around his hard dick and his pure black jeans stained in what you assumed to be his cum.

“Jungkook-ah?” You questioned before hiding yourself under the blanket.

“No need to hide yourself Jagiya… I like showing you off…” Yugyeom licked his lips darkly before hungrily devouring your neck that was already covered in his bruises.

“Y/N-ah…” Jungkook’s soft, broken voice trailed off, his hand still languidly pumping his cock as he saw your flushed red cheeks and sweat covered body.

“And she’s all mine…” Yugyeom smirked as he kissed you passionately, his tongue moving into your mouth to elicit all sorts of moans and whimpers from you. His hand moving to your ass before giving it another loud smack.

“And this is as far as you can possibly get concerning fucking my girlfriend hyung” he directed his warning at the other male, his tone void of any emotion other than posessiveness as his eyes shot daggers at Jungkook. His mouth moved to nibble on your sensitive ears that had you gasping for air and your nails digging into his shoulder as you rocked your hips over his crotch again, covering it in your juices once more.

“Now let me etch into your mind how divine my Y/N-ah looks getting fucked…By me.” Yugyeom pushed you on all fours again but this time you were facing Jungkook.

With that you knew that this was going to be an exceedingly long night.

And all you could do was lick your lips in lustful anticipation of what Yugyeom had planned for you, for both you and Jungkook.

Written By: Admin Sangria~

Dating L Would Include:

-Lots of cuddling… when you guys get the chance

-This boy is touch starved as hell from working so hard all the time

-So when he has a break, you bet he’ll be at your side in a moment

-Likes to be the small spoon while cuddling because surprisingly, it gets tiring ordering everyone around and being in charge all the time

-Also loves to pull you on top of him and hold you to his chest just to feel the weight of you on him and sort of making him feel protected for a bit

-Honestly L just wants to act like a little kid and depend on someone else for a little while

-Will live you forever if you run your hands through his hair while he’s cuddled up in your side

-”Y-/N? What… what are you doing?” He’ll ask the first time you are playing with his soft locks of black hair

-”Nothing… it’s just so soft~” You laugh, trying to play off your embarrassment 

-”Hmm…” he hums in thought, “It’s nice.” He decides and lets you continue

-Now it’s just a sort of comforting thing for him

-Every once in awhile when he’s dealing with an especially difficult case he’ll simply pull you into his lap and pull your hands up into his hair, silently asking for you to play with his hair and maybe manage his head a bit

-It really helps him relax and he loves you for having this effect on him

-He’ll take you with him on his trips around the world, wanting to keep you as close to him as possible the whole time 

-”To keep you as safe as possible my love.” he claims with a small smirk as he pulls you closer to him

-Not that you’re complaining… you’d like to stay close to him as well

-Due to his work there would probably be times… or days you would go without seeing him while he interrogates someone or checking out some evidence or some crime scene somewhere that is too dangerous to take you to

-But trust me, he’ll make it up to you

-One specific time he was gone for almost a week and you were starting to get worried

-Just as you were about to contact Watari to get some answers the door to your bedroom opened

-Your eyes landed immediately on the huge box of cake with the words “I’m sorry” written across the top in big sugary frosting letters

-The box lowered and you almost cried tears of relief at the sight of your boyfriend’s stupid face  

-”I know… I should have called and told you I was alright, but I didn’t want to risk putting you in danger-”

-”It doesn’t matter now… all that matters is that you’re okay!” You run and pull him into a hug 

-Cue cake eating party for two while binging comedy movies all night

-Apology accepted

-Kissing this boy would be a bit awkward at first

-He would know what to do but wouldn’t be sure that YOU knew what to do

-Keeps his eyes open for the first few just to see your reaction… it’s for research

-But after awhile he’ll get used to this closing his eyes thing and get more into the kisses

-They’re usually soft and slow, hands roaming everywhere because he just wants to feel you to make sure you’re really here… that you’re really his and this is actually happening

-L loves you to death (pun not intended)

-Expect there to be a plate of sweets everywhere you go because L is addicted to sugar

-At this point in the relationship you probably are too

-Oh well… constant sweets… what could be better?

-Dates will probably only happen inside your apartment/house or hotel room at the time

-If you haven’t noticed, L is kinda anti-social

-Because of this he would probably prefer to have a at home date with you

-Cuddling while eating sweets that you guys baked together then binge watching shows and movies together for the rest of the time? Sign me up!

-Nicknames with L are super pure and cute

-His favorite one to use for you is probably “my love”

-Other nicknames include: “my partner in crime”, “sweet cheeks”, and “baby doll”

-Sometimes L will have nightmares where you died or something else horrible happened and you’ll have to be there to reassure him that nothing’s going to happen will probably end in a make-out session to prove your point

-L probably sleep talks during said nightmares, leading to you confronting him about the nightmares and just being there for him to vent and hug him close once he admits he’s afraid of losing you

-Like that’s ever going to happen

-This boy has tighter security on you than the president of the United States… or the queen of England even!

-Claims he just wants to protect you but you know it’s because of the nightmares so you just let it slide

-Honestly this relationship is just full of pure love for one another

-Please just hurry up and marry him, you’re not going to get better then this honestly

-”I love you L~”

-”I love you too Y/N… so much my love~”