☁︎ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Milk (M)

Summary: When trying to deal with your hybrid’s sudden obssesion with milk, you would have never guessed that things would turn out so differently. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, hybrid!au, fluff

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is a two-shot! So please keep in mind that there will be a second part to this story! Any who, this fic contains heavy dom/sub undertones, graphic descriptions of sex, degrading names, slight milk/lactation kink… urmm if you don’t know what that is, maybe this fic isn’t for you :’) Also breeding/mating kink. The majority of the smut will be in the second part! Thus, you have been warned!

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“If you’re looking for the milk, you’re not allowed to have any.”

“Excuse me?” the hybrid questioned, almost sounding like he was mocking you.

You sighed as you looked up from your spot on the couch, to see Yoongi standing still at the refrigerator, with his head craned towards you, waiting for your replying.

You knew by the way his long black tail snapping up and down behind him in harsh movements, was an indication of how annoyed he was. You couldn’t even see his dark eyes properly since his black fringe was covering them partially, but you could already just imagine the intimidating glare upon them.

You could easily read his emotions because you’ve been living with him since you were only 7 years old. At the time, you were mindlessly on the carpet playing with your stuffed animals, when your parents came home with your mother holding the hand of a young boy. He looked close to your age, maybe a couple of years older. He had porcelain like skin, which contracted his dark black hair. And you remembered the look of excitement that graced your chubby face when you saw two furry white ears atop of his head, and a long furry tail that swayed slowly behind him.

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Pregnancy Headcannons - Simon Basset

• Far from happy when you told him

• He had tried really hard so you wouldn't get pregnant

• "No, no, no, we were careful. I-I-I..."

• It was a complete accident

• He was furious

• His temper got the better of him and he blamed you

• Stormed off

• He went to the bar and drank the day away

• But he refused to abandon his child like his father did

• Simon was distant and unhappy but promised to raise this child

• He knew he was harsh but he made it clear this was a mistake...your "first and only child"

• Simon told Lady Danbury through gritted teeth

• "We're in a bit of a predicament...she's with child."

• He told you he didn't care about the gender at all

• "I don't care what the bloody child is, as long as they aren't a brat."

• Deep down though he wanted a girl, in hopes of destroying the Hastings name

• Simon's icy facade started to melt when your bump starting showing

• He was only human after all

• The sight of the woman he loves glowing with love and happiness was almost too much for him

• It made him want to go back on everything he ever said and have as many children as possible with you

• It was no longer possible for him to distance himself from you

• He would run to your aid when you tried to lift something heavy

• Or make sure the maids were getting you enough water, vitamins, and drinks

• Started listening in on your doctor check ups, which he'd previously ignored

• Simon rarely touched your bump

• Even with Simon warming up to the idea of your pregnancy he still made it clear he would support this child, but you'd never carry another

• That was until you were about 5 months pregnant

• One night you and Simon were out at some dinner you forced him to go to. He had been grumpy the whole night, so you went outside at one moment to avoid his attitude. Your outfit was a fairly nice one with some nice jewelry, which some drunk man across the road had realized, so he lunged at you, hoping to grab your necklace. You screamed and before you knew it the man was knocked to the ground Simon gripping your shaking frame. You sobbed and sobbed, so Simon called the carriage and you made your way home. It occurred to Simon how out of hand the situation could've gotten. And for the first time Simon's shaky hands rested protectively over your bump the rest of the ride home.

• "It's okay, y-you're okay. I'm here, I'll keep your safe...b-both of you."

• That night after you'd finally calmed down he broke down

• "I could've lost you both. I'm the luckiest man on earth. A child with the woman I love and I've been a complete dick."

• He knew he couldn't make up for the way he acted the last few months, so he told you he wanted to be as involved as you'd let him be

• Simon opened up to you and explained why he'd been so upset about the pregnancy

• Of course you forgave him, after that the two of you really began life as a growing family

• Simon constantly had a protective arm wrapped around your bump

• "Your mother says you can hear me. Personally, I don't believe her but I'd like to live long enough to meet you, so I won't argue. Well, um, hello I suppose. I-I, um, love you."

• The first time your baby kicked was when he was "pointlessly" taking to them

• He had been rambling in a bored voice, but he perked up immediately after the kick

• "Can you hear me! (Y/n), I'm not necessarily saying you're right but maybe they can hear me."

• He talked to the baby a lot more after that

• Simon didn't make you go to any balls

• He didn't like them and you got tired after staying on your feet too long

• You still threw a party at the end of the season because Simon is a duke after all

• Simon hates parties but he loves you so much he did most of the set-up so you could rest

• When you went into labor Simon was calm and collected

• Simon almost choked the doctor when they told him he should wait outside

• He let you squeeze the life out of his hand

• When cries filled the room his face was a mixture of complete joy and fear

• It was a boy

• You could tell that rattle him a little but he was happy nonetheless

• "Hello." Simon looked at the child awkwardly. "I'm your father." The baby cuddled closer to Simon and he seemed to relax. "You have nothing to worry about. I'll always keep you safe, and I'll never leave you. I would never leave my son."

Study Buddy- Billy Hargrove X Reader

Summary: After being paired up with Billy Hargrove on a project for school, all you want to do is get a good grade and get it over with. Knowing full well his reputation, you do your best to focus on the project when he comes over after school to help. But it’s rather hard when he won’t do any work and won’t stop looking at you like that. 

*Warnings: Smut 18+, Unprotected Sex (please use protection. this is fiction.), a lil dry humping, mention of oral sex (m receiving), Billy being a flirty fuck, Billy being obsessed with you, he has a staring problem, cursing, hickeys, mention of divorce, fluffy ending *

It had been a regular day of school when Billy Hargrove first arrived. You had went to your first period as usual. Hearing excited whispers from various classmates. 

You had furrowed your brows and asked Nancy what was going on. She told you simply that ‘Apparently a new guy moved to Hawkins. He is supposed to be really hot. His name is Billy Hargrove.’

You had rolled your eyes and went back to your work. You felt as if you left your interest in boys back in Sophomore year when this boy named Alex broke your heart. Now, it was all books and movies. No extra drama. No boyfriends, no flings, nothing.

You were still a teenager. You went to parties and had fun. You just had to roll your eyes every time a stinky, acne faced boy would attempt to get with you. As if.

You had gone onto your second period without giving the rumors another thought. You sat in your normal seat and got out your binder. 

The bell rung and your teacher started babbling on about the test tomorrow. Nancy tapped your shoulder from the seat behind you and asked silently if you would help her study. You agreed. Like she even had to ask anymore. 

The classroom door opened, signaling the arrival of a late student. 

You had to do a double take.

You could tell by the cocky way he walked in and smirked at the teacher that he was the new kid everyone was talking about. But he didn’t look like a kid. No… he looked like a man. A model. Something you only saw on the covers of magazines and in TV shows. 

Let’s just say he stood out among the other boys at your school.

They weren’t wrong about his looks. He was incredibly attractive. Curly, dirty blonde hair that framed his face well. You had never liked the idea of a mullet but damn, he made it look good. 

He had the most beautiful eyes, blue like the sea. Eyelashes that any girl would be jealous of. Eyes that darted around the classroom in search of an empty seat. 

Of course, he’d spot the one next to you. 

His gaze met yours and you quickly averted your gaze back to the teacher who went back to lecturing.

 He sat down and you could hear the whispers coming from the back of the class.

It annoyed you that everyone seemed so obsessed with him all of the sudden. He was the talk of the school. You could tell why. But just because he was attractive didn’t mean you had to like him.

You tried your best to keep your eyes forward. And you succeeded. 

Until you felt a tap on your shoulder, “Hey, could I borrow a pencil?”

You got out an extra pencil and handed it to him, trying to ignore the low timber of his voice. 

You felt your confidence shrink as his eyes raked over you, taking the pencil from between your fingers. 

He smirked, “Thanks, doll.”

You went back to your notes, ignoring the nickname, all too aware that his stare lingered. You could see him staring from your peripheral. 

You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from making some smart ass comment to him about it.

You could make out the pearly whites of his teeth. Smiling like he knew his mere existence was bothering you.

You swear he didn’t even write anything down with the pencil he borrowed from you. 

You felt Nancy tap on your shoulder and pass you a note when the teacher’s back was turned.

You unfolded the ripped piece of paper and froze at its contents, ‘He’s totally checking you out.’

You sighed and chewed on the inside of your cheek while scribbling out your response, ‘Good for him.’

‘You’re crazy! The hot new guy is totally staring and you won’t even give him a second glance!’

You rolled your eyes, of course she would encourage this. 

‘I’ve given him plenty of glances. And I’ve seen enough to know that a dude that hot can only bring trouble.’

You heard her chuckle under her breath. 

You spared a glance to your right, only to be met by his sapphire eyes again. 

He had the nerve to wink at you.

This time, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

-

You were grateful when the bell rang. You swiftly gathered your things. 

Nancy was quick to catch your eye. Ready to talk about him.

She motioned towards Billy and you scoffed in response. You were not going to talk to him any more than you had to. 

You quickly linked arms with her and ushered her out the door. As soon as you reached the hall, there was a tap on your shoulder. 

You gave Nancy a look, knowing full well who it was. She smiled at you and bid you goodbye, leaving you to deal with him.

You turned and raised your brows expectantly, “Can I help you?”

Billy chuckled and held up your pencil, “Thought you might want this back.”

You eyed the pencil warily, “You keep it. You’ll probably need it.”

Who didn’t bring a pencil on their first day of school?

He grinned, “You’re probably right. Thank you… by the way.” he squinted, “I don’t think I caught your name…?”

“You’re welcome. And it’s Y/n.” you wanted to cut this short.

“So… Y/n, I’m obviously new here and I was wondering if maybe… you’d wanna show me around sometime?”

You wanted to laugh. Of course he was asking you out. “I don’t think so. It was nice meeting you though.”

You turned on your heel, heading to your locker. Nancy would have a hissy fit when she found out you turned him down. She was always on you about getting back out there. About wanting you to find someone so you could go on a double date with her and Jonathon. 

But you didn’t care. Billy could, and probably would, find someone else to show him around. 

-

You had gone through the rest of that day, only to find that Billy was not only in your last class, but to find that he was sitting next to you yet again. You swore the universe had it out for you or something. 

You had made it a point to ignore him for the whole period. 

But again, the cosmos had it out for you. The teacher announced a project in his nasally voice. 

You rolled your eyes as he stated he would be picking partners for the class.

You clenched your jaw in anger when he read out your name.

Great. Your least favorite teacher happened to pair you up with your least favorite person in the room.

You couldn’t believe this shit. You wanted to protest. To ask for a different partner. Anyone else. But you knew that this teacher already gave you a hard time so it would’ve been for nothing anyways. 

You sighed and finally acknowledged Billy’s presence, “Looks like I’m stuck with you.”

He chuckled, “It must be fate.” He smiled charmingly at you. 

“Something…” you muttered under your breath. 

You would think he would be deterred after an obvious turn down. Guess not. He seemed elated to be working with you.

He managed to stay silent for a few minutes and let you re-explain the project to him since he wasn’t paying attention when the teacher did the first time. 

You had a feeling you were going to be doing this one by yourself. And that was fine by you. You preferred it that way. “If you want me to do it and then just put your name on it, I can.”

He raised his brows at your offer, “Now, why would I make you do all the work?”

“Trust me, it’ll be easier that way.” you didn’t mean it to come out so rude, “I mean… you just got here and I know more about this anyways… and-”

He laughed, “I know what you mean, dollface.”

You pursed your lips at the nickname. 

He just licked his lips, amused at your reaction. 

“I’ll help. I insist.” his eyes sparkled with mischief. 

You knew this wasn’t going to be an in-class assignment so that would mean you two would have to meet up outside of school. Just your luck. 

“Fine. Are you free right after school?” you hesitantly asked.

The corners of his mouth quirked up a little, “I have to take my step sister home first but after, yeah.”

Stepsister? You definitely wouldn’t have pegged him for the older brother type.

You ripped off a piece of paper from your notebook and wrote your phone number and address on it. You hesitantly handed it to him, “Okay, here’s my number and address. Just come over when you’re done.”

The grin he gave you told you that he thought he just scored.

“Now don’t think you can just call or show up whenever you want.” you warned, knowing where his mind was going.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” he folded the scrap of paper and tucked it away in his jacket pocket, smiling like the cat who got the canary.

You had a feeling this was a bad idea.

-

As soon as you got home, you were antsy. Looking around the house, cleaning up a bit. Not because you cared what Billy thought. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You halfway wished your mother would come home. But she wouldn’t be much protection anyways.

Your single mom was always working and when she wasn’t the two of you were hanging out. She was more of a friend than a mother. Worse than Nancy at pressuring you into going on dates. Encouraging you to live your teenage years to the fullest. To love any chance you got. 

You could tell she wished she’d done the same.

She wouldn’t be home until later that night. 

Leaving you all alone in a house where you would be spending the next few hours with a boy you just met, who was clearly into you as more than just a friend or classmate.

You sighed and sat on the couch, waiting for the moment when he would arrive.

-

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when the doorbell sounded. 

You opened the door to see him standing on your doorstep, hands in his pockets, car parked out front. 

The sunlight illuminated him. Bounced of his golden hair and made the curls shine. Brought out the tanned hue of his skin and emphasized how tall he was compared to you.

You gave him a friendly smile, which he returned. 

“Come on in…” you invited, making way for him to enter.

You watched as he looked around your house. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” You shut the door and kept your eyes trained on him as he observed the place. 

“Looking for something?” you asked quietly

He turned and tilted his head, “Your parents? Siblings? Pets?”

“Oh, uh… it’s just my Mom and I. She won’t be home till later…”

You were nervous as you saw his eyes light up, “Good to know.”

“Right… well my room is upstairs so…” you led him up to your room.

You cursed as you realized your record player was still playing AC/DC from when you were cleaning your room earlier, “Shit, sorry.” You went to turn it off. 

“Leave it.” Billy looked impressed, “Didn’t think you’d be a Rock N’ Roll kinda girl.”

You turned the volume down a little and got out your supplies for the project, “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me. One of them being that I actually do my schoolwork. Now… I could use your help with this.”

He took a seat next to you on your bed, looking at the rough sketch you drew before he got there, “How can I be of service?”

“I need your input on the layout. Where do you think this should go? I was thinking up here…”

When he didn’t respond you turned your head to look at him, only to find him inches away from your face, staring at your lips.

“Billy.” You glared at him.

He blinked a few times, “Sorry, what did you say?”

You repeated yourself. He gave a noncommittal answer.

You sighed and decided you were gonna have to take the reins on this project anyways. 

You avoided asking him any questions. Every time you did, he wouldn’t be paying attention.

Always staring at you in a trance.

You huffed as he, yet again, was not helping. “Are you actually gonna help me or are you just gonna keep spacing out the whole time?”

He looked back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “I’ll pay attention if you do something for me.”

“And what is that?” you asked sarcastically. 

“Kiss me.” he said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Your heart skipped a beat, “Excuse me?”

“Kiss me.” he prompted.

Your heart fluttered again like a thousand butterflies in your rib cage. He couldn’t be serious. 

You knew he was though.

You shook your head, laughing, “Forget it, Hargrove.”

“Come on… what’s the harm?” 

You swallowed and kept your eyes on the project. The harm is that you knew if you kissed him, it wouldn’t be a one time thing. You didn’t want to get involved. He would just end up breaking your heart in the end.

You just kept shaking your head, determined to do this project all by yourself if you had to. 

He turned your face toward his, making you look at him.

You were scared. Scared of how handsome he was. Especially up close. 

You were scared of how good he smelled and how dark his eyes were when they looked at you.

You were terrified at how quickly he seduced you. 

You were inches away from those perfectly shaped lips that were literally calling your name.

“Y/n…” he purred, “I know you want to.” he teased.

“And how do you know that?” You practically whispered.

He smirked, “Because you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you. I see the way you look at me… and we both know I have a staring problem. There’s a good reason for that. You’re… distracting…”

Did he just call you distracting?

You sighed and looked down, no longer having the willpower to deny it. You couldn’t deny that you were attracted to him.

He had a certain pull. Something you couldn’t explain. A sexual heat that radiated off of him. There was a thousand times more chemistry between the two of you than there ever was with your ex.

And it was obvious he was attracted to you too.

It was impossible not to feel it.

He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. You met his gaze again.

He was so close. Leaning in, a final whisper on those full lips, “Please…”

How could you deny him? Deny yourself? What’s one kiss?

You turned to him and closed your eyes, sucking in a sharp breath through your nose when your lips finally met his.

Your heart was hammering against your chest. A jolt of hot white lightning struck your heart and traveled all the way down to your core. 

Your lips molded against his perfectly. 

His hand came up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss. Leaning closer, he captured your lips again and again. 

He ran his tongue over your bottom lip and nipped at it.

You let his tongue tangle with yours. Both of you moaning into the kiss.

It was hot. Both of you eager to taste one another.

You pulled back to breathe, but it was hard. You could feel your heart beat in your ears, your lips tingled.

He stayed close, breathing the same air as you and gazed deep in your eyes. You felt… connected.

You had never felt anything so intense. No one had ever kissed you like that. You trembled as he leaned in again. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as his plump lips moved in sync with yours. 

Your hand came up on its own and tangled in his hair. His curls were soft as you pulled him closer to you. Letting your tongue circle his in a dance the two of you seemed to already know.

The taste of him was enough to make you moan into his mouth. He echoed you in response and shoved your project off the bed and onto the floor in an effort to get closer to you. 

You broke the kiss, gasping at his actions, “Billy!”

He chuckled, “Screw the project. The only thing I want to do right now is you.”

You rolled your eyes yet smiled at his antics. You knew this would happen. Oh well. Kissing Billy was so much better than schoolwork.

He positioned himself in between your legs and attached his mouth to yours once more. He seemingly couldn’t get enough of you. The feeling was mutual.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. You could feel his bulge pressing up against you through his jeans. 

His hips were pressed flush up against yours as you made out. Your core clenched at the thought of making him hard. At the thought of what was in those pants. 

You wanted it. You wanted him. Fuck it.

Your hands went to unbutton his shirt, lips still busy. Once you successfully got it unbuttoned, he took it off and threw it elsewhere. The tank top underneath soon following it. 

You didn’t mean to stare but fuck. He was a specimen. He was ripped. Arms that bulged, big and strong. Smooth, tan skin. Buff chest leading down, down, down. You let your eyes rake over him, landing on that little trail of hair that lead into his pants.

You would’ve squeezed your thighs had he not been between them. You licked your lips, wanting to kiss every inch of him. 

Wetness flooded at the sight of him as he leaned back over you, smirking, “See something you like, babydoll?”

You bit your lip and nodded. He ground his hips into yours, going to your neck to leave little kisses down the length of it. You happily titled your head to the side to let him. 

You couldn’t help but buck your hips into his when he bit down, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin. Tongue soothing the sting.

He hummed against you and ground his hips in circles, sucking hickeys all over your neck and collarbone. Marking you as his.

He pulled back when your shirt stopped his path. 

You sat up and gladly threw it on top of the long forgotten project. 

His lips immediately fastened themselves to the newly exposed skin. Eager to leave marks everywhere he could. You reached back and unclasped your bra, throwing it with your shirt. 

His eyes widened an inch and he took a deep breath. He groaned at the sight of your bare breasts. Stunned. “Jesus, Y/n. You’re gorgeous.” 

You giggled, “See something you like?” You repeated his words from earlier.

He answered you with a growl and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking and circling it with his tongue. His hands groped your boobs as he littered them with hickeys.

You let out a breathy moan. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy giving them attention. Your nipples were so sensitive and his erection was moving so deliciously over your clothed core as he humped into you. You could probably cum just like this. 

But you wanted him inside you. Wanted to feel him in every way possible. Wanted to feel good for once. Allow yourself to give into your desires.

You brought his lips back up to yours and went to unbutton your pants. 

His kisses became greedier as if he knew what was to come. 

He unbuttoned his own pants and quickly discarded them as you did too. 

Billy bit his lip and admired you, a hand coming down to cup his bulge. 

You felt wetness pool in your panties at the sight of him touching himself. 

You hooked your fingers in his underwear and pulled him closer to you. Kissing him, you ran your hand over his hard on. His hips bucked into your hand, he groaned as you grabbed him through the thin fabric.

You slowly pulled them down, longing to see underneath. As soon as his length sprang from its confines, your mouth watered. He was perfect. In every way. 

Long and thick, everything your ex was not. Your mouth hung open as you stared hungrily at his member. 

It twitched under your gaze and you glanced back up to see Billy smirking lightly at you. His own eyes staring hungrily back at you. 

You licked your lips, wanting him in your mouth. You wanted to taste him. You wanted to make him feel good. You wanted to lick every inch of him.

He chuckled breathlessly. As if he could read your mind, he spoke in a low voice, “I know that look, doll. And fuck, do I want you to. But I also know that I won’t last if you wrap those perfect lips around me.”

You smirked and took him into your hand, stroking him up and down, “Maybe next time, then.”

You winked at him as his eyes went hooded. “Next time?”

You chuckled and kissed him, all tongues and teeth.

You shimmied your panties down your legs and spread them wide for him.

He looked down and let out a moan when he saw you bare and dripping for him.

His fingers trailed over your clit lightly, circling it slowly. You whined as they spread your slick, “Billy…”

He made a noise deep in his throat, unable to tear his eyes away from your entrance. He slid one of his fingers inside, then two. “Fuck baby… all this for me?”

“For you…” you whispered as he pumped them.

He took them out and gaped at the glistening arousal on his fingers. He circled them over the head of his cock before wrapping his hand around himself. A broken moan escaped his mouth.

It was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. Ever heard. You couldn’t help but moan along with him. 

He bent down to deliver a quick yet heated kiss to your lips. 

“Billy please…” you ached for him. You could feel your sex throbbing with need.

He positioned himself closer in between your legs, running his weeping tip over your clit. Then, up and down the length of your slit. Making his cock even wetter with your juices. You groaned in unison. 

You spread your legs even wider as he carefully slipped the head inside you.

He hissed through his teeth, pausing, sweat upon his brow. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You clenched around him as he steadily pushed all the way in. He watched, mouth hung open in a continuous moan as inch after inch disappeared inside of you.

He bottomed out, pressing his forehead against yours. You cursed at the feeling of him stretching you.

“Fuck…” you leaned up to kiss him, “You feel so good.”

He let out a mixture of an incredulous laugh and a moan. “You feel so fucking good, Y/n. Oh my fucking god.” 

He slid out slowly, pumping his hips forward as soon as he got halfway out. He breathed heavily, thrusting at a faster pace. 

He was torn between looking at where you two were joined, to your marked up tits, to your face that was scrunched beautifully in pleasure. 

“So wet…” he murmured under his breath. “So gorgeous…”

You turned your head so you could nip at his neck as he plowed into you. This only seemed to spur him on, his thrusts gaining speed. “Fuck, Y/n-”

You hummed, his salty skin between your teeth. The taste of him was heady. Pheromones released rapidly, making you feel high.

You were certain he was feeling it too, pupils blown, filthy noises coming from those sinful lips as you worked on his neck.

You watched in awe at his muscles shifting under his sweaty skin with every movement. Every thrust hitting your g-spot, his pelvis rubbing against your nub. Cries of pleasure escaped you. 

You clasped your hands around his neck, overcome by the pleasure he was sending through your body. He grunted loudly into your neck, “Fuck, you are such a good girl. So good for me.”

His words of praise made you clench around him, your orgasm was building fast. He pulled you flush against his sweaty body and slammed into you over and over, making your eyes roll back.

“Billy… baby I’m gonna cum.” you whimpered, the pressure building.

“Fuck yes princess, I want you to cum for me,” he moaned into your neck, never ceasing his relentless pace. “Let me hear you…feel your sweet fucking pussy squeeze me…”

You were going to cum and you knew it would be intense. You braced yourself as he pounded into you. 

You threw your head back as pure ecstasy flooded through your entire body. Your stomach contracted and you moaned with every hot pulse of your climax. 

You screamed Billy’s name, your walls squeezing hard around his length.

It was unlike any sensation you had ever felt before. Pure euphoria. 

He let out a guttural moan, his own orgasm hitting him hard. His noises were enough to send you spiraling once more.

His thrusts became sloppier and his groans and whimpers became quieter as the two of you slowly rode out your highs together. 

He sucked a bruise on your shoulder, aftershocks flowing through both of you.

You stayed connected for a minute. You bit your lip, feeling his breaths fan over your skin as he panted, catching his breath.

Your eyes widened as you just realized what you had done.

You just had sex with Billy Hargrove. And you loved every second of it. You never knew it could be this good. This passionate. This satisfying. 

You wanted to laugh as you spotted your half finished project laying on the floor. 

He pulled out slowly, head turning to rest on your chest. His weight was grounding as he wrapped himself around you.

You lay content. Billy started to draw patterns on your skin, brush his fingers lightly over the marks he made. 

You could feel him smile against you. 

You rolled your eyes, but smiled fondly. “You never had any intention of helping me with the project, did you?”

He was silent for a moment, but looked up at you with a pouty lip and glittering eyes, “If I said ‘no’, would you be pissed?”

You shook your head, “No. I figured as much.” 

He chuckled against you.

The question of ‘What happens next?’ lingered in the air like the aroma of sex.

You didn’t want to ask it. You wanted this moment to last forever. All you wanted was to lay there with him. 

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

The pair of you startled as a loud crack of lightning sounded from outside. Thunder rumbled and rain started to pour. 

You could feel Billy’s heartbeat increase against you.

The drops of water pattered against your window. A surprise storm raging outside.

You went to sit up. Billy reluctantly rolled off of you.

Getting up from the bed, you reached for your clothes.

“Hey…”

You turned to Billy and caught the shirt he threw you. His.

You tried not to smile as you slipped it on, suddenly enveloped by his scent. 

“Thanks.” you went to exit the bedroom.

He quickly slipped on his underwear and grabbed your hand, “Where are you going?”

His eyes were wide. Was he scared? You fought back a smile at the thought of a guy as tough as Billy, scared of a little thunder.

“I’m going to call my mom, she definitely won’t drive in this shit.” you laced your fingers with his and pulled him closer, “You should probably call someone too… it doesn’t look like the storm’s gonna give out any time soon.”

He raised his brows, “You’re letting me stay?”

“You can stay the night if you’d like. Wouldn’t want you to get caught out in the rain.” you winked at him.

He smiled wide and let you lead him to the phone downstairs.

After calling your mom, she stated that there was a warning out anyways and that she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow morning. 

You let Billy use the phone, sitting on the couch to give him some privacy.

His conversation was short and he was back with you in minutes. You tried not to stare when he waltzed into the room in just his undies. 

He plopped down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder. He sighed but you could hear the smile in his voice, “I guess you’re stuck with me. Again.”

You chuckled, “That’s fine by me. Maybe we can actually get some work done on our project.”

 He groaned at the thought. Like he would be doing any of the work anyways.

-

The next morning, the sun was shining and Billy’s body was still pressed up against yours. Naked of course, due to another round of not being able to keep his hands to himself. 

You slipped out from under his grasp and started getting ready for school. Pulling out some of your over-sized clothes that you assumed would fit him, you set them on the bed for Billy to wear.

Once you were ready, slowly laid back down next to him. You admired his features. Appreciating the fact that he looked so relaxed. So at peace.

You ran a hand through his hair and stroked the side of his face softly, “Billy boy… it’s time to get up.”

He groaned and hid his face in your pillow. 

You rolled your eyes and rubbed a hand over his back, “Billy…”

He grunted in response. Obviously he wasn’t a morning person.

“Come on, we gotta get to school.” you prompted.

He rolled over and eyed you, “Fuck school.”

“It’s your second day.” 

“Still.”

You sighed, “Would you get up if I told you I made you breakfast?”

He sat up, intrigued, “For real?”

You nodded, heading downstairs to eat your own. Knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.

-

A few minutes later, he stomped down the stairs wearing your clothes you had set out for him.

You paused, fork halfway to your mouth. He looked good. 

It was a simple black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants but fuck.

“You look nice…” you complimented. “Glad they fit.”

He rolled his eyes and took a seat next to you, grabbing a piece of toast and munching on it. “They smell like you.”

You laughed, “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, except for the fact that I’m gonna be smelling you all day and I’ll start to miss you…and these pants don’t exactly look like they’d be good at hiding a boner.”

You shook with laughter. “I’d love to see that.”

-

When you arrived at school, you felt like you had this huge secret. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell anyone about what happened. Although you were sure someone would find out sooner or later. 

Specifically Nancy. She kept glancing at you during first period.  She was suspicious no doubt.

Halfway through, she nudged you, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem… different. Distracted. I don’t know.”

You shrugged your shoulders and pushed your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her face dropped. She gasped. “Y/n!” she whisper-yelled.

“What?”

You realized she could see the hickeys that littered your neck. You were quick to cover them, “Shit…”

“Looks like someone had fun last night. Who was it?” she demanded an answer.

You kept your lips sealed.

As soon as she saw Billy the next period, she put two and and two together. 

She gasped and leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “Is he wearing…?”

You shushed her, trying to suppress a blush that was surely rising.

You heard her tear a piece of paper from her notebook. Writing fast.

‘You have to tell me everything!’

‘I’ll tell you during lunch.’

You were low-key excited to talk about it. To talk about him. Talk about the whole experience. 

You bit your lip and tried to pay attention to whatever the teacher was saying. But your thoughts kept drifting back to last night. 

Another piece of paper landed on your desk. Nancy was insatiable. 

You furrowed your brows when the note had different handwriting on it.

A messy, yet unique sprawl that had a simple message on it. 

‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. You glanced up to find Billy already staring at you, a grin of his own on his face. 

A warm feeling erupted in your chest. Maybe being stuck with him wasn’t such a bad thing.

 (Feedback is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know if you have anything you’d like to see me write.)

Stormy Night

Authors Note: Hey guys!! It’s finally here, my first fic to post! AANNND ITS SEUNGMIN SMUT YOU’RE WELCOME this probably seems very rough and rushed and I’m sorry lol it’s my first time writing smut and my first time in a few years writing a fic, but I’m really happy with it!

Characters: Seungmin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k (oops lol) 

Type: Friends to Lovers, An equal amount of fluff as there is smut “There’s enough room on the bed for both of us”, somewhat of a buildup

This piece of fiction is intended for adult audiences, 18+ ONLY 

Watching the rain as it hits the windshield, a mild feeling of panic starts to wash over you. The storm was getting bad, and it would be getting dark pretty soon. Looking back on it, maybe taking the 18 hour road trip home with Seungmin wasn’t the smartest idea you’d had. You were nearly half way there, so close but so far to your hometown, where you insisted–no, begged for Seungmin to come with you due to a family wedding that you wanted no part in, but were obligated to be at. Not to mention, your cousins had been pestering you about when you were finally going to bring a plus one to such important family gatherings.

Keep reading

overhear ; Kim Namjoon

pairing: kim namjoon x female reader

words: 1,470

genre: angst, fluff??

summary: you accidentally hear namjoon call you clingy.

a/n: i missed writing again. yooo im so mad bec i had to write this twice bec my laptop suddenly shut down, its so annoying bec i liked the first version better :<

masterlist

(gif not mine)

You pushed open the front door to the boys’ apartment. Hoping to visit your boyfriend, Namjoon, who you haven’t seen in about a week. Voices echoed throughout the house, confirming that the boys were indeed home. You clutched the bags of food in your hands, figuring that they were probably hungry so you bought some on your way here. As you neared the living room, where they were all staying, you heard Namjoon’s voice. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop but his voice was booming loud.

“I’m so sick and tired of her!” Namjoon’s voice yelled out, making you halt and frown. “I can’t go through an hour without Y/N spamming me with texts and calls. She uses my clothes all the time as if she doesn’t have her own. It’s starting to annoy me,” You almost dropped the bags you were holding but you stopped yourself before anyone would notice you were standing just outside of the room they are in, “I just want my own space and time but she’s just so clingy. I wished she would just stop.” You heard him mumble the last part. Your eyes brimmed up with tears upon hearing his statement. You had no idea he felt this way.

You heard enough so you decided to creep into the kitchen and leave the food atop of the counter, leaving a small note saying to enjoy the meal. You left the dorm without further notice.

You made your way home, shutting yourself into your bedroom before letting your held back tears fall down. You had no idea Namjoon felt this way about your affection. You thought back about the days where you would question him how he was doing or if he was getting enough sleep and rest. You grabbed your phone, deciding to read all the texts you’ve been sending for the past week. Frowning, finally seeing why he called you clingy. You sighed, calming down, deciding to switch things up.

You stood up, heading to your closet, removing all of Namjoon’s article of clothing from your cabinet. Folding each and one neatly before returning it back to his closet. You tucked your phone away, not wanting to be tempted to message him once more today.

Namjoon came home later that night, dead tired from all the practicing he was required to do. The house was quiet and dark which was very unusual but he decided to shrug it off, thinking that maybe you were in the shower or sleeping. He silently made his way towards your shared bedroom, in case you were indeed sleeping, he didn’t want to bother you. Pushing the door open to the bedroom he saw your figured hunched up at your side of  the bed completely. Scared that you would almost fall off if you moved one inch, he dropped his bag on the floor before approaching your frame. Namjoon wrapped his arms around your body, fixating you so that you would be able to get proper slumber by having a better posture. His actions caused you to jerk awake, eyes fluttering open.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, letting out a small yawn. Namjoon smiled at your sleepy state, pressing a light kiss on top of your head.

“You were almost falling, baby.” He informed you, letting go of your body to change his clothes into much comfortable ones. As he opened his closet, he saw how his clothes were neatly folded and piled upon each other, he thought of it as you just clearing out his clothing so he let it go. Once Namjoon was done preparing for bed, he saw you trying to fumble away from his side of the bed which made him confused so he walked towards the bed, sliding in. Expecting for you to climb in his arms, but you didn’t which was odd. “Are you okay?” He asked, worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it. Namjoon once again shrugged it off, grabbing onto you before pulling you close to his chest. His movements made you let out a tiny yelp at the suddenness. His words earlier once again echoed through your mind, “Uh, Joon, can you let me go? I-it’s too hot for me.” You excused.

“What?” Namjoon frowned at your words.

“Please.” You whispered, trying not to be too loud because you knew he had a tiring day. He listened to your command, letting you go of his arms. Once he did, you moved further away from him, clutching your pillow instead, “Goodnight.” Your back facing him.

Namjoon didn’t reply, instead he watched as your back greeted him instead of seeing your lovely face like always.

A week has gone by and you were astounded with how well you were on being less clingy. You had work almost everyday so it helped on being a distraction. Sending Namjoon a simple ‘good morning’ text when you saw that he left for work in the morning. Greeting him with a kiss on the cheek when he arrived home and preparing a small meal for him to consume before disappearing into the bedroom to give him enough space and time for himself.

Namjoon was starting to notice the sudden change of your behavior. He sometimes caught himself staring at his phone, waiting for your affectionate texts as usual. Staring at the studio door, hoping for you to walk right in. His expectations got his hopes up and only to be left disappointed when you weren’t appearing. Once Namjoon arrives home at your apartment, he expected for you to bounce right at him to engulf him with a hug and pamper him with kisses like how you usually do, but instead he was greeted by silence and cold air.

“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” Namjoon finally piped out once you left a meal on the table and was about to head out, to leave him alone again. You froze on your spot, thinking of the right words to say.

You let out a small laugh, back still facing him, “Of course not.” You shrugged before continuing to walk once again but you were pulled back by his hand on your arm making you jump at the sudden contact.

“Stop that.” You studied his face, noticing how he had a stressed look plastered on.

“Stop what?” You questioned.

“Stop leaving me alone!” Namjoon’s hands went up to his hair, gripping on it lightly. “I miss you so much and I know something has changed. You barely speak to me anymore, you don’t cuddle with me when we’re about to sleep. You don’t even tell me you love me anymore.” He mumbled the last part, arms falling down to reach for you, encasing you with his arms. “Please tell me what I did wrong, Y/N. I want to fix everything.”

Tears started forming in your eyes at his words, “I-I overheard you telling the boys how clingy and annoying I was,” You started, “so I decided that maybe I should lessen my affection so I could give you the space you needed.” You felt a tear slip down your face. “I, uh, also stopped wearing your clothes as you were complaining that I wore them all the time.” You let out a shaky breathe, “I’m sorry if I smothered you too much.”

“No! No no no.” Namjoon lets out rapidly, “That was so fucking stupid of me to say. I was so stressed and I know that shouldn’t be an excuse for me to speak of you that way. I’m so sorry Y/N.” His hands reached up to caress your back softly. “I love your constant affection, it makes me feel so special and loved. I love seeing you pass by the studio just to make sure we all have proper meals, and I absolutely love seeing you wearing my clothes, you look adorable in them. Please don’t take my words from that day so seriously. I’m sorry I hurt you, my queen, I promise to never hurt your feelings ever again. I love you so fucking much.”

You both agreed to head to bed after the small talk you had. As you were getting ready, Namjoon handed you his hoodie that had his all familiar scent on it, “Wear it, you look lovely.” Was all he said before he returned the bathroom to do his nightly routine. You did what he told you to, slipping the hoodie on your body before climbing into the bed.

Namjoon shortly slipped beside you and you let him hold you in his arms once again, “I missed this, I missed you.” You heard him mutter quietly.

“I missed you too.” You admitted, snuggling closer to him. “I love you, Joonie.”

“I love you so much more than you imagine, Y/N.”

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

Got7 Reaction- BFF to lovers

Hello again! I’m back from my unofficial hiatus! @ilikeeverythingonmypizza  I really hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you wanted ♥  I made some of them fluffier and others smuttier ;)  (sorry, I know it took me forever to get to :( )

Mark

Mark had promised to call you whenever he could while he was away on vacation. You had hardly spent any time separated for the last few months, so you had a hard time waiting for his calls. When you opened your phone to video call him, it started ringing. 

Mork😁 is calling you - accept or deny call? 

You quickly swiped to answer and were met by your friend’s wide smile. It was still pretty early where he was and he apparently took a shower, but hadn’t dried his hair yet. 

“Hi (y/n)! How are you?”

“Great! And you? I like the hairstyle, by the way.”

You both giggled as you continued talking about the previous few days, until you mentioned a name.

“Who?” Was that annoyance you heard in his voice?

“You know, the guy who was flirting with me at Bambam’s birthday party…”

You heard him mutter under his breath. “This guy, really…”

“What, you’re jealous? Because I talk about him often?” You weren’t expecting his answer at all.

“No, I’m jealous because you talk about kissing him all the time”

“Wait, are you saying you’d like to kiss me?”

“Oh, not just kiss you, cutie, but…sorry, I have to go!”

You tried to process what had just happened and you only had the time to finish half of your sentence before he ended the call.

“Mark Tuan, you can’t just say that and go away!”

Jaebeom

It was late when you came into the studio. Tears ran along your cheeks as you explained your family issue to Jaebum. You were really grateful that he was always there to listen to you and help you out when your relationship with your family got worse. He hugged you close before calming you down. 

“Don’t cry, you’ll be alright. You can sleep here if you want and if it’s better for you that way.”

His hand was lightly cupping your cheek as you calmed down and closed you eyes with a deep breath. He leaned toward your lips, but shifted to kiss your forehead instead, which clearly wasn’t his first intention. As he backed away, you grabbed his arm to bring him closer. 

“Jae…I don’t know why but…”

“I know, (y/n), I know, I’ve been feeling it for quite some time now.”

And with that he kissed you, sweet and slow, making you wonder why you never realized that you loved him more than just as you best friend. But you were glad you found out.

Jackson

It was late when you came back to your apartment from your friend’s house. You were supposed to stay over but she had an emergency and you unfortunately had to get back home. When you pushed the door open, careful not to wake up you best friend, you hear some sound coming from the living room. You sighed, thinking that he had left the TV on, like he always did since you became roommates. He never turned it off before going to sleep, leaving it until it annoyed you enough for you to do it instead. Maybe he did it out of habit, you though. 

When you got near the door, you froze.That sound wasn’t the usual plain voice of the news announcer, which usually was the only thing on at midnight. They were moans. You held your breath, not knowing what to do. 

“Fuck…yes” 

His grunt startled you, but you couldn’t deny the fact that hearing his voice this low turned you on. So much.

“Y/n…mmmmh” 

You chocked back a gasp. Was he really jerking off to the thought of you? You moved so you could see through the opening of the door, making the floor creak, and found out that he was sitting on the couch, his back turned to you. After a few quiet seconds, you hear his voice again.

“Since you heard me and didn’t go away, I assume you enjoyed this, didn’t you? Do you like hearing your best friend moan your name? Because I would love to.”

Jinyoung

You entered the hallway to Jaebum’s studio, only to hear you best friend’s voice arguing with the leader, who was getting clearly annoyed with him.

“It’s fine, Jinyoung. Just tell her! You’ll see.”

“Hyung, you don’t get it. It’s driving me crazy! I don’t even know if she likes me! I came here for advice and you’re not helping me at all!” 

You didn’t want to interrupt their argument, so you waited outside with the snacks you brought for them. It was so weird, hearing them like that. They would hardly ever have talks like this, so you wondered why Jinyoung seemed so irritated. Until you hear them say it clearly.

“It’s just… I can’t do this anymore. She’s always on my mind, but I can’t do anything about it! I even imagine her when I have to do kiss scenes for dramas…”

“She’s your best friend, I’m sure it won’t ruin your friendship if it doesn’t work out! Just tell her when she gets here okay?”

You hear a small m’kay before you decided to push the door and walk in, not really thinking about anything but the fact that he liked you back. You definitely weren’t thinking when you rushed to him to plant a small kiss to his lips.

“Listen to Jaebum for once. Of course I love you, idiot.”

Youngjae

You sent the meme you had been laughing at to the group chat. As expected, Jackson and Bambam were the first ones to answer, spamming emojis and even more memes. Yugyeom even sent a video of him recreating it and you could hear Youngjae’s signature laugh in the room next to you. 

He had came back to the dorm from an appointment and he kept singing “Lullaby” without any restraints, so you figured he didn’t know you were there. You goofed around with the boys for a few minutes before settling on reading a book you started earlier that week and didn’t have time to finish. 

You loved hearing him, so you simply listened to his sweet voice while you read. Somewhere around the 150th page, he stopped and you hear him softly humming to “Confession song”. You were surprised to hear him slightly change the lyrics.

“I love you, baby I, I love you…I love you, (y/n) I, I love you”

He giggled shyly right after and you suddenly felt the urge to let him know that you were there. Upon entering his room, you smiled as he looked back to you, startled.

“Oh, uh…hello (y/n)! Did you…? Of course you heard. Well, this is a weird way to announce it to you, but I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time now…Now you know, I guess…”

Bambam

You knew you should have never said yes to that game as the bottle spun around. Especially after seeing how disheveled Jinyoung’s was after coming back from the closet, Jaebum following him with a smug look. You had been lucky enough not to get picked until now and you secretly hoped the game would stop before the bottle pointed at you. 

“Aaaaaaaand…….Bam! It’s your turn! I’m curious now, who’s going to be the unlucky fool that will have to go with him?” Yugyeom laughed as his friend pushed him. 

“Unlucky??? Let me remind you that I have the best lips around here!”

His false offended tone made everyone chuckle as they encouraged him to spin the bottle again. You heart stopped when it stilled, pointing directly at you. You saw a small smile forming on Bambam’s lips.

“Well? We’re not going to wait forever, get in there you two!” 

After Jackson closed the door, you stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. It was your best friend who talked first. 

“(Y/n)…since it’s kinda, you know, the whole point of the game…would you mind if I…kiss you?” He sounded abnormally shy, his cocky appearance disapearing.

 As you took his hands in yours, giving him the confidence to lean in and connect your lips, you realized how long you had been waiting for this. You wrapped you arms around is neck and he backed you up against the closet wall. As the kiss became more and more heated, you were certain that it was exactly what he was thinking too.

Yugyeom

Your eyes were glued on him as he danced around the studio. The way he moved with such power and precision blew you away every time you came here with him. You were hyping him up during the entire routine and clapped when he ended the dance, complimenting him on how smoother his movements had became over the past few weeks.

“I can’t believe how much you improved, Gyeomie! You’re going to have to teach me how you do it!” You spoke your last words with a pinch of humor, but he took our hand and tugged you from your chair. 

“You always say that but you never actually dance with me! Come on! Wait, let me put on some music…” He put his playlist on shuffle before getting back next to you. 

“Just one song and I’ll never bother you again! Please, (y/n).”

You faked a sigh before beginning to move to the tropical beat that played through the speakers. You enjoyed this song and let go, dancing freely to the music. It took you a while to realize that he seemed very interested by the movement of your hips. You decided to tease him a little.

“What a way to look at your friend…is there something between us that I should be aware of?” Your choked back your smile when he took a step toward you and answered with the most serious look on his face.

“You should be aware that your dancing is making it very hard for me be a good friend and not hold those hips to back you up against that mirror.”

The only response you could word out was “But what if I want you to?”

Bag of Tricks pt 2 | Bang Chan (m)

Summary:

After losing your job and moving in with Chris, you are forced to face your feelings. Will he love you back? Or are you just a toy to him?

Pairings: Dom Christopher Bang x Sub Female Reader

Genre: Smut (fluff if you blink fast)

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Dom/sub, oral (m/f), spanking, sensory deprivation, unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol, bound (wrists being tied), public humiliation, forceful gag used. I know I forgot some stuff. You’ll be SURPRISED I guess.

A/N: This is part two, please read part one before reading this. Thank you @particularemu​ for your amazing skills. I love you 

Part ONE

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ride my thigh

Son Hyunwoo x Chae Hyungwon (Showhyung / Hyungnu) | saw a gif and tweet and had to write this | Thigh Riding | wc: 1.8k

Warnings: thigh riding, language, smut references

Summary: Hyungwon accidentally let it slip to Hyunwoo that he has great thighs, and it’s not Hyunwoo’s fault that he offers Hyungwon a ride.

 a/n: i saw a tweet about that gif saying that hyungwon definitely wants to ride shownu’s thighs, and i agree. so here. i wrote this. this is not the gif btw, but if u watched weekly idol then u know that part where shownu hyungwon clings onto shownu? yes that part.

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|| sugarbaby.com || bang chan

Summary: Struggling college student Y/n is on her last year of college as the bills stack she’s in a tough situation. Her roommate recommends her a website for local sugar daddies. That’s where she meets Mr. Bang Chan a producer who is just a nice guy that has a lot of money.  

word count: 5.1k || genre: smut, lots of smut, kissing, dry humping, light choking, praise kink, soft dom chan, like soft, like he’s a caring daddy btw, light barely their daddy kink. 

a/ n: the end plot is so sloppyyyy but I put lots of plot and love and smut this could be better but its 5k of hard work so enjoy yall~

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