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barnes-babydoll · 1 month ago

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You’re the Glue | b.b 𐙚˙⋆.˚

Pairing | New Avengers!Bucky Barnes x New Avengers!Reader

Summary | After a mission goes horribly wrong, the team ends up stewing in their own anger on the car ride home. You try to lighten the mood, but instead it makes everyone angrier. When you're down, Bucky’s there to comfort you.

Warnings/tags | Thunderbolts* spoilers?? Tower fic, fluff, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, yearning, cursing, nsfw, MDNI (18+), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, soft dom!Bucky, kissing, protective!Bucky, breast play, oral (f receiving), fingering, your honor Bucky’s obsessed with reader, no use of y/n.

Word Count | 12.3k

A/N | Baby's first fanfic!! I’ve been wanting to write for some time and how fitting that my first one is about my husband. Please have mercy on me, I write for fun. It’s not great, but I had a blast writing it. I hope you enjoy!! And if you did let me know:))

Read on AO3:)

It’s a cold day. The kind of cold that sits deep in your bones, chilling you to your very core. No snow is on the ground, but it’s getting close to that time of year. You shiver in your seat, wrapping your arms tightly around your middle to bring warmth back into your system.

The car sways slightly with the intense winds, but Bucky has a firm handle on the wheel, keeping it steady. Silence settles over the car; only the occasional groan, sigh, and low engine rumble break the quiet.

The team just completed a mission, and though everything worked out in the end, it didn’t seem to matter. Many things had gone wrong. The intel you had gathered was bad, the plan was thrown out the window, and the whole team was out of sync. All of that caused a rift between the members in the car.

Bucky’s driving, grip so tight on the wheel that his knuckles are white. You’re not sure if it’s from anger that the team had entirely ignored the meticulous plan you and Bucky had put together hours before you left, or if the uncomfortable silence is eating at him like it is you.

Yelena is in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dash, picking at the chipped polish on her nails. Her face says everything. She’s pissed. At everyone, but specifically Walker.

During the mission, he went to throw a punch, and instead of hitting his original target, he clocked Yelena right in the jaw. You don’t think she meant to get in the way, but she was just so occupied with getting the mission done that she wasn’t too keen on her surroundings. Now, a purple bloom of color is setting into her skin, along with other marks littered across her face and body, not unlike the others sitting in the car.

Walker is sitting in the bench seat ahead of you, closest to the window. He’s rubbing at his jaw, where Yelena punched him as “payback” on the walk back to the car. When Walker hit her, it was an accident. She didn’t see it that way; no one could convince her otherwise. You had to stifle a laugh when it happened because it was so abrupt, but also because of the clear shock on John’s face.

Ava’s next to him, arms crossed over her chest, and her brows drawn together. She occasionally bumps Walker with her elbow when the car drifts off its straight path, causing grunts and a string of low curses from the blonde man’s mouth.

Alexei’s eyes are closed, no doubt sleeping, next to Ava, who paid him no mind. You don’t think he’s upset with anyone, but the stillness lulled him to sleep, and you’re envious that he can nap at a time like this. But he can doze off at any time, no matter the circumstance. One time, you found him snoring upright while waiting for the microwave to beep, notifying him that his ramen was finished.

Bob is to your left on the second bench seat. You can feel the anxiety radiating off of him. Though he hadn’t helped out on the mission, he decided to come along for the ride. But he most likely regrets his decision now because he hates seeing the team like this. Bob always tries to lighten the mood, but he knows it’s useless this time.

You, on the other hand, don’t share everyone else’s sentiments. Yeah, every single thing was fucked from the start. But at least the job is done, and no one has any serious injuries, which is a win in your book.

Your head is swimming with ways to get everyone to stop sulking, but you don’t want to make an already bad situation worse. So, you settle on breaking the silence and suffering the consequences.

“Still on for movie night?” You say almost sheepishly, but there’s a hint of amusement in your tone. You’re met with silence. Only Bob looks your way briefly before his head drops between his shoulders, eyeing the floor. Instead of letting that deter you, you continue your pursuit.

“John picked last time, so it’s someone else’s turn. And I don’t think I can sit through another shit action movie. It’s just an excuse for men to blow shit up at this point.” That earns a strained laugh from the man beside you, but he doesn’t lift his head.

”Hell no.” Yelena grumbles from the front seat. “After this car ride, I am not sitting next to any of you.”

”I second that notion.” Walker pipes up, rolling his eyes in the process.

”At least there’s something we can agree on.” Ava ‘accidentally’ knocks her elbow into Walker’s arm again, and he looks like he’s seconds away from losing it.

You sit up in your seat, trying to draw their attention. “Oh, come on. We always watch a movie every other Friday. It’s tradition.”

John shakes his head. “Not happening.”

”I made homemade brownies, and I’ll make popcorn.” You put on your best smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your smile quickly fades when no one answers. You glance around the car, and not a single soul is looking your way.

You lock eyes with Bucky in the rearview mirror. He loosens his grip on the steering wheel and gives you an almost apologetic expression. Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s a simple gesture but still melts some tension away from your shoulders.

You and Bucky have become friends over the last few months, or at least that’s what you’d like to think. When you first met the super soldier, he was closed off, grumpy, and didn’t talk much outside of a mission. But if you were lucky, you’d earn a stiff nod or grunt in response.

You strangely saw him as some sort of challenge. And you never backed down from a challenge. He didn’t have to like you, but you at least wanted to get more than a gruff sound from deep in his chest.

You started to memorize his schedule. Not like a creep, you just noticed the little things he did throughout the day. He wasn’t a morning person, so you avoided him until he finished his early workout. Usually, that changed his mood drastically; his posture was less guarded, and his expression had softened slightly.

He’d come to the kitchen after exercising, and you’d always have coffee ready, offering him a cup. Plain black coffee, just the way he likes it. You’d slide the mug near him with some sweet treat you had made prior that week. He would nod as a thanks, which had already been a small victory.

The common room was a safe place for him to gather intel or scope out potential missions. Pieces of paper were sprawled out on the table, and a soft glow illuminated his face from the screen on his laptop.

You caught on pretty quickly to what he was doing and started asking if he needed help. He always looked up from his work, stormy blue eyes meeting yours, and shook his head, no. Unfortunately for him, you were persistent.

You flopped down in the seat next to him with your laptop. His dark eyebrows knit together in confusion as he stared at you from behind his screen. You propped your head in your hand while the other was busy scrolling through articles, news reports, and random findings online.

You turned your screen around, giving him the vital information you found. Soon after, you began working together as a team, granting you much more than his usual guttural noises. From then on, everything was a breeze. Well, not exactly a breeze, but you considered him your friend.

Bucky made small talk in the morning over coffee, complementing you on whatever pastry, muffin, or dessert you made. He asked you to spar with him after John had slept in one morning. You were giddy with excitement that he chose you, but that feeling disappeared when he kicked your ass that day. Your chest heaved with exertion as your body slumped down on the mat, sore and aching. You knew he wouldn’t go easy on you, which was okay with you. You just had to step up your game.

It became easier to spar with Bucky after learning his tells. He would give you a few helpful pointers, which your original sparring partner, Yelena, hadn’t cared to do.

There were plenty of late nights between the two of you. You and Bucky hunched over a laptop, leaning into each other's space while researching and losing sleep.

But, if you’re being honest, you didn’t mind being sleep-deprived because you liked being next to him. Breathing in his scent, a mix of sandalwood, musk, and a hint of spearmint. Hearing the snort he let out when you made a joke. Seeing the corner of his lip turn up when you get animated about certain information.

It had turned from friends in your head to perhaps…more. You developed a crush on the tall, dark-haired man. Of course, you knew he was handsome; you weren’t blind. But you thought maybe the butterflies dancing in your stomach from his laugh or smile would go away. Then, his metal hand brushed against your skin. You’d feel like your world was turned on its axis and knew your attraction to him wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

As you sit in the car, gaze locked on Bucky’s blue irises, you must force yourself to look away so your heart doesn’t beat out of your chest. You tell yourself to try again to shake the team out of their irritated state. Maybe that will take your mind off your intense feelings for Bucky.

”We can order in Chinese. That’s always a comfort food of mine.” You offer.

Yelena turns entirely in her seat, shooting daggers at you. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Your back hits the seat as if she stabbed you. Yelena never raises her voice at you, not even when angry, because she’s never angry at you.

You consider Yelena more of a friend than anyone in the car. You connect more deeply with her, for which you are genuinely grateful. But now, as she stares you down, you feel a sense of dread putting down roots in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” It comes out smaller than you intended, and you can hear the hurt in your voice. Bucky hears it and immediately tries to meet your gaze in the mirror, but your eyes are directly on Yelena’s. They’re usually deeply warming, but there’s only a raging fire right now.

“Not everything is a puzzle you can assemble and force the pieces to fit. You can’t make everything better. You don’t make anything better.” Yelena’s voice is booming in your ears, loud and harsh. You feel too vulnerable. Too seen. You don’t know whether to scream or cry. You decide to stay silent instead, letting the anger boil beneath the surface.

”Knock it off, Yelena.” Bucky speaks up. His jaw is clenched, as if he could say more, but he chooses not to. You’re glad he doesn’t, though, because you might just let yourself cry in front of the team. All anyone will see is just how broken and raw you feel on the inside. But the others in the car don’t seem to be paying too much attention. Either they’re trying their hardest to ignore it, or they’re determined not to get involved.

Yelena’s eyes haven’t left yours, completely ignoring Bucky’s warning. “I’m sick of you trying to fix everything. Just let it be broken for once.” The anger threatens to bubble up, but you keep it at bay.

”Enough!” Bucky seethes at Yelena, whipping his head in her direction. Yelena finally settles back into her seat, satisfied with releasing her wrath on you.

You take a deep breath in before you say a word. ”Got it. Loud and fucking clear.” Your voice is steady, firm even. You're not going to let everyone see the raw and bleeding parts of you. Not now. Not ever. You glance out the window, a storm brewing behind your eyes, focusing on how the buildings pass by in a flash.

You hear a soft groan in front of you, but you don’t look for the source of the sound, too busy stewing in your irritation. “Did I fall asleep?” You recognize the voice as Alexei’s. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and pats his thighs, sitting up in his seat. “Well, what did I miss?”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Everyone breaks off in different directions once they’re back at the Tower. No one has said a word. Maybe it’s better that way so that everyone can cool down. Bucky follows behind you, keeping just enough distance for it not to be noticeable. He wants to check on you but isn’t quite sure how.

You’re quiet, and your muscles are taut, which is unlike you. Bucky knows all your intricate details, and you are far from a quiet person. Sure, there’s a gentleness about you, but you’re also lively. Especially when it comes to you talking about your passions. Your face lights up, and it’s as if the colors around you are suddenly brighter.

One of his favorite things is to catch you in the kitchen, hips swaying to the smooth music drifting through the speakers. You always seem in your element when baking and humming along to the song while your hands are whisking. Bucky would be embarrassed if anyone caught him, but it’s addicting. You’re addicting.

When the gentle parts of you come to the surface, it’s like watching a butterfly float through the air. There’s something so delicate about that side of you, like you're made of glass.

You’re constantly checking up on the team. You make sure they’ve eaten or drank enough water, or if they need a person to talk to. You’re always there. And now, no one is there for you when you need it most, which kills Bucky.

You’re speed walking to your room, arms tucked against your chest as if you’re closing in on yourself. Bucky practically trips over his feet, trying to catch up to you. He calls your name, but you don’t seem to hear. He finally gets close enough to grab hold of your arm. Not forcefully, just a light touch against your skin to pull you out of your daze.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden contact, and you stop dead in your tracks. You glance down at where his flesh hand is and then up at his eyes. He drops his hand to rest at his side when he has your attention. His fingertips tingle from touching your skin, and it feels like tiny jolts of electricity.

There’s a beat of silence as he clenches and unclenches his fist before he clears his throat. “So, no movie night?”

”You heard them, it’s not happening.” You mumble, your voice is so soft. He might've missed it if he hadn’t been beside you.

“Right,” Bucky murmurs back, matching your tone so he doesn’t scare you away. He wants to say he’s still up for it, but then it’ll just be the two of you. Then again, is that so bad? You stare at each other without speaking. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

”Look, I’m pretty tired. I’m gonna go to bed. It’s been a long day.” You rub a hand over your arm, where he touched you, and now he’s spiraling. Maybe she didn’t want to be touched, and now she’s trying to rid her skin of any trace of me. He shakes the thought away and gives you a stiff nod.

“Of course, you must be exhausted. Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning.”

”Night.” You give him a tight-lipped smile before turning away and heading to your room, disappearing into the hallway's darkness.

Bucky stands there, one hand on his forehead, as he rubs at the growing headache. His mind is racing. He should have said so many things and asked if you were okay or wanted to talk about it. But Bucky was never truly good with feelings. He’d rather cram them deep down inside than open that Pandora’s box of issues.

He’s getting better, though, revealing the dark parts of himself. The nightmares, the memories that make his muscles tense, Hydra. Not to everyone, just to you. And you always listen. You make it your purpose to give him all your attention; he knows he doesn’t deserve that. But you give that part of yourself so freely.

He can’t just stand idly by while you’re hurting. So, he turns from his spot and wanders around the Tower to find Yelena. She’s not too hard to find. She’s standing in the kitchen watching her mug rotate around in the microwave with a cookie in her mouth. Bucky stands right behind her, hands on his hips.

”Apologize.”

Yelena spins around, clutching the spot on her chest right over her heart with her eyebrows raised. “Fuck, James. Give a girl some warning.” Her voice comes out muffled from her mouth full of crumbs.

“You’re an ex-assassin. You’re supposed to hear me coming from a mile away.” Bucky deadpans.

Yelena swallows down what’s in her mouth before speaking. ”I am off the clock. My guard is down.” She shrugs her shoulders, then points a finger at the super soldier as if scolding him. “Plus, I was chewing. I could have choked.”

Bucky ignores her dramatics and repeats himself. “Apologize.”

”No.” She whirls around as the microwave beeps and takes out the cup of hot water, placing it on the counter.

”Why?”

Yelena grabs a white packet from the cupboard, ripping off the top and shaking the contents into her mug. “Because I’m sick of her being so positive all the time.” She grabs a spoon from the drawer to stir the rich chocolate liquid.

“And? What’s wrong with that? This team needs a little fucking positivity.” Bucky snaps.

She twists to face Bucky, leaning against the counter and bringing the cup of hot chocolate to her lips. “Seems like you need a little positivity.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.” Bucky lowers his voice; his mind flicks to you and how content you make him when you’re around. “Listen, without her, this team would be nothing.”

Yelena tilts her head; her voice is thick with faux pity. “Are you saying she’s the glue that holds us together?”

“Yes,” Bucky says simply. Even if she doesn’t mean what she says, that’s precisely what he meant. You’re the glue.

Yelena quirks a brow. “Have you gone soft, Barnes?

He disregards her question and continues. “Just apologize.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I will…tomorrow.” She takes another swig of the dark liquid.

“No, right now.”

Yelena rolls her eyes and begins walking out of the kitchen, Bucky hot on her heels. “I’m tired. I’ll do it bright and early tomorrow so you can see her beautiful smile.” He pauses for a moment, caught off guard by her statement. She smirks at him over her shoulder as she strides to her room. He recovers quickly, following her again.

She snorts when he doesn’t answer. “That is what this is about, right? You can’t stand to see her sad. It’s breaking you. Making you have all kinds of feelings. Your little heart can’t take it.” Yelena opens her door, getting ready to close it behind her.

“No, that’s not-.” Before he can deny her revelation, she interrupts him.

“Goodnight, Barnes. Or should I say loverboy?” Yelena gives him a smug look, wiggling her eyebrows before closing the door in his face.

Great, he thinks, that’s what I get for prying.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It’s been a couple of hours, and you're still lying in bed, wide awake, to your dismay. You spent about an hour tossing and turning, then another hour staring at the ceiling. Now, you can’t decide between a blanket or no blanket. Maybe you need a glass of water, but no, scratch that; you need a drink.

You can’t help but play the day's events over in your head: the mission, Yelena’s words, Bucky. Your skin still prickles where he touched your arm. He was so gentle with you, as if you were fragile.

Of course, he knows you're not. You’ve tripped him up a few times while sparring, knocking him flat on his ass. That shouldn’t give you as much thrill as it does, but who can blame you?

Still, you think about his hand gingerly placed on your arm as he examined you with concern etched on his face. And, you had pushed him away. Not because you didn’t want him. Fuck, you wanted him. But you knew if you opened up and let him see how wounded you were, that would leave you more exposed than you already felt. You’re wishing you had stayed. Let him take your mind off everything, but it’s too late.

You kick your feet over the side of the bed and amble over to your bedroom door, neglecting to put on your slippers. You pad through the hallway, and a figure in the living room snags your attention.

Bucky is on the couch, a quilt draped over his legs as colors dance across his form, and he’s taking you in. You note how his shoulders drop and his features soften, almost as if he were waiting for you. But that’s absurd. You rid the thought immediately.

He pulls you out of your daze as his voice cuts through the air. “You alright?”

You shrug, gesturing to him on the sofa. “I could ask you the same question.”

His gaze flicks down as if noticing where he is and what he’s doing. “Oh, yeah, I couldn’t sleep.” He focuses back on you, no doubt wanting you to answer his question.

“Me either.” You tip your thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “You want a drink?”

“Sure, sounds good to me.”

You go to the bar, rummaging through the liquor cabinet until you find what you are searching for—a clear glass bottle with dark amber liquid. You couldn’t care less about how much it cost, but you can tell by the ornate design of the bottle that it had to cost half a fortune. It's not something you have the money for, especially before this job, but Valentina always supplied the best for appearance's sake.

You take two short whiskey glasses from the shelf, setting them on the counter before detaching the glass stopper from the geometric bottle. You fill both glasses halfway and head back to the living room.

You step around the couch and hand Bucky his. He nods in appreciation as you sink into the spot next to him. You’re close enough to feel his warmth, but there’s still some distance between you.

You take a sip of the liquid. A smooth, smoky, and vanilla flavor hits your taste buds and floods your senses—a welcoming contrast to distract from how shitty you feel.

You already feel a thousand times better, Bucky next to you, the liquor calming you, and the steady sound of the TV playing in the background. You tip your head toward the TV as you get comfortable.

You turn towards him as your arm rests on the back of the couch, elbow bent so your hand can support your head. “Having movie night without me?”

He shakes his head. ”No, never. It just happened to be on.” The corner of your lip lifts, and your chest warms. You can’t tell if it’s from the whisky heating your body temperature or the way he said never, and you think you might believe him.

”Well, you are watching a movie on movie night, so that’s a little suspicious.” You tease.

”Shit, I guess I am.” There’s amusement in his voice as a faint smile appears. He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, doll. I would’ve invited you but thought you wanted to be alone.”

You hum in response. “I thought I did, too, but I was wrong.”

Bucky’s tone turns serious as he scans your face. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

”Hell no. Distract me, please.”

“Anything for you.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You swear your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush slightly. Somehow, you know he’s not just saying that to make you feel better. You feel like you can breathe easier knowing that.

“Anything, huh?”

”Just say the words, sweetheart.”

“Care to share that blanket?” You think the whisky is calming you and giving you hidden confidence you didn’t know you had.

”I s’pose.” He drawls with a smirk on his face. You scoot closer, and he lifts the quilt, covering your legs. It was never about needing warmth, just an excuse to be near him.

“Much better.” You mumble.

Bucky stares at you, blue eyes flicking between your features like he’s trying to memorize you, and a shiver runs through you under his gaze. He clears his throat, running his metal hand through his hair.

“Right, distraction.” He leans his head back against the couch, examining the ceiling as he sifts through his brain for a topic of discussion. All you can think of is how distracted you already are.

“Oh, got it.” He locks his eyes with yours once again. “Alexei was riding the elevator this morning.”

Your eyebrows draw together, utterly confused. “That’s usually what happens.”

”For half an hour.”

You giggle at how strange that sounds. “Wait, why?”

”I don’t know. When I asked him about it, he said he was testing a theory and then swore me to secrecy. So, you can’t say anything.” He arches a brow. “I’m pretty sure he just pressed all the buttons, though.”

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth, exactly what you need. You’re hurt, and anger is a distant feeling.

“I have one.” Bucky nods his head for you to continue. “Ava phased through the bathroom the other day, and I was completely naked.”

His jaw drops, and then he proceeds to bust out laughing. It’s a sound you never get tired of hearing, probably because it’s so rare, but also from the way it makes your stomach do somersaults. “That’s the one place you shouldn’t phase into. Is she ever going to learn how to knock?”

”I wouldn’t hold out hope. She apologized profusely, but I know she won’t stop doing it.” You put your glass on the coffee table to give him your attention.

“I don’t know how to top that one.” There’s still a lingering grin fixed on his lips as he thinks for a moment. “I caught Walker watching Titanic. He kept telling me it was already on when he sat down.”

”I knew he was a sucker for romance.” You pause, tilting your head and narrowing your eyes at him. “Wait, that means you’ve watched Titanic.”

”Of course, I have. People say it’s one of the classics.”

“And, what did you think?”

“It was good.” You can hear the reluctance in his tone. You give him a look to carry on. Bucky rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it. “Jack clearly could have fit on that door.”

“Right?” Your voice goes up an octave, and you're grinning from ear to ear like a lovesick fool. “Yelena and I had a whole conversation about how they could've made it work.” Your face drops immediately after you realize what you said.

You let out a long breath, and suddenly, whatever is on the TV is extremely interesting. Your eyes are directly on the person on the screen, but you’re not paying much attention because your head is spinning again.

Why are Yelena’s words affecting you so much? You’ve never truly cared what other people think. But, then again, she’s your friend. Perhaps your best friend. Shouldn’t her opinion matter?

Bucky breaks your train of thought, not easily deceived by your sudden intrigue in the television. “She’s wrong, y’know?”

“Hmm?”

“You do make everything better.” His words are like silk, soft and comforting. You whip your head to meet his gaze. There’s a slight smile on his lips; the color in his eyes is swirling and shifting. It’s like a tide pulling you in and telling you, you’re safe. You fully trust that he will keep you safe, and you won’t overlook that.

You return his smile, and the light reaches your eyes. He parts his lips and sucks in a breath—it’s subtle, but you notice. You don’t know what to say, but settle on, “Thank you, Bucky.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

You turn your attention to the TV to hide the blush crawling up your cheeks. Then, because that liquid courage is coursing through your veins, you rest your head on his shoulder. Bucky tenses beneath you, and you internally kick yourself for making him uncomfortable. You almost pick your head up. As if he’s reading your thoughts, he relaxes, and his breathing becomes lighter.

You stay like that for a while, enjoying each other’s company as you watch the movie. Your lids feel heavy, and before you know it, they flutter shut. You’re sleeping on Bucky’s arm like you belong there.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bucky noticed your breathing even out about twenty minutes ago, but he’s still watching you like you're a masterpiece in the Louvre. He’s scrutinizing every aspect of your person as if he’ll be quizzed on it later. He wants to pull you into his arms and tuck your head under his chin as you lie on his chest, but he doesn’t want to overstep a boundary.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this calm; it’s refreshing. To forget about any piece of his past for a second and drown in you. There’s no promise of nightmares or bad memories taking shape at the forefront of his mind.

Bucky yawns and leans his head against the back of the sofa. Maybe I’ll rest my eyes for a moment, he thinks before closing them and drifting off to sleep.

The sun peeking through the curtains stirs him awake, and he reluctantly opens his eyes. Your head is still a gentle weight on his arm, which brings a sleepy smirk to his face.

It dawns on him how this must look, and he realizes he should get up before any team member sees. Yelena’s already hinting at his crush on you. He can’t have everyone on him about how dopey he must look, staring at you like you hung the stars.

Bucky slowly moves from his spot on the couch, careful not to rouse you. He takes your head in one hand and shifts to stand up. Bending over, he grabs a pillow and maneuvers it under you. He delicately pulls your legs and sets them on the couch, draping the blanket's full length over your shape. Your body twitches slightly as you settle into the new position.

He steals one last glance at your peaceful demeanor as he stretches. He groans at the sharp pain in his upper back and neck, no doubt from the way he fell asleep. But he honestly doesn’t care. He’d do it all over again to feel any part of you on him. Bucky leaves you to get some much-needed rest as he starts his morning.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You rise from sleep to the sound of clattering and blink a few times to adjust to the light. There’s a pillow under your head that you don’t remember putting there, and the quilt from last night covers the expanse of your body. You must have fallen asleep.

The recollection of last night hits you like a tidal wave. You were cuddled up on Bucky’s arm last night, which lulled you to sleep. He must have adjusted you before he went to bed. The thought gives you a fuzzy sensation in your brain.

The smell of coffee fills your nostrils, and you finally get off the couch. You drift into the kitchen. You spot Yelena and Walker talking by the counter. At least someone made up.

Walker detects you instantly. “Hey, sleepy head. How was the couch?” Yelena’s eyes dart up to meet you.

You shrug, stepping into the room. “Surprisingly, not bad.” Yelena turns around and opens the cupboard, reaching for a mug.

John nods and clears his throat. “Sorry for yesterday. Our dumb asses ruined movie night.”

You wave him off. “Don’t worry about it.” You watch Yelena bring the coffee pot to the mouth of the cup, pouring the dark liquid as steam wafts into the air.

”No, movie night is important to you. We should have sucked it up and watched it.” He reiterates.

”It’s no big deal. That just means we're watching two next Friday night.” You jokingly add.

Walker chuckles. “It’s only fair.”

Yelena turns around and hands you the cup. You must have missed her putting cream in because now it’s a swirl of tan and white. You give her a look of gratitude before bringing the warm drink to your lips.

“Can we talk?” Yelena asks with a soft expression. You can almost see her guilt on display.

”Yeah.” You murmur as your hands wrap around the mug, soaking up the heat.

”Alone, dipshit.” She adds, shooting Walker a glare over her shoulder.

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. ”I was literally in here before both of you.”

It’s your turn to glare at the blonde man. He raises his hands in surrender and wanders out of the kitchen, mumbling something about women under his breath.

Yelena flicks her gaze to you and begins. “I apologize for what I said yesterday. I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. If I could take them back, I would.”

Yelena glances around the room, trying to find the words to convey her feelings. “I wanted to stay mad, but you were changing my mind about being mad, making me more mad. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, though.”

You sigh, shaking your head. ”It’s okay. I should have read the room instead of pushing everyone to feel a certain way.”

“No, you were right. It was a stupid reason to be upset with each other. Although there’s always a good reason to be angry at Walker.” She tilts her head in the direction John went. You let out a soft chuckle. “Do you forgive me? You can punch the other side of my jaw if that makes you feel better.”

You snort. “Tempting, but no. I forgive you.”

”That’s a relief. I thought I was going to have to replace you with one of the boys, and that makes me want to vomit.”

Your jaw drops in mock horror as you clutch your chest. “You would replace me? You wound me.”

”I’m kidding. No one could replace you.” Yelena hums as a thought pops into her head. “Barnes was right; you are the glue.”

You quirk a brow. “Huh?”

”We were talking last night. He was the one who told me to apologize.” She pauses, raising a hand. “To be clear, I was going to anyway. Plus, I never let a man tell me what to do.”

That causes you to giggle, and then you gesture for her to continue. “Go on.”

”Anyways, he implied that you’re the glue that holds this team together, and I couldn’t agree more.” She softly nudges you with her elbow. You feel your cheeks warm, and you sip at your coffee to hide how those words affect you.

Yelena rolls her eyes playfully. “Man, you two are ridiculous. Just kiss already.”

”What are you talking about?” You don’t even know why you’re trying to deny it; she caught you red-handed.

”Don’t get me started. How you look at each other, and Barnes is so protective of you. I also found you both cuddled up on the couch this morning when I was on my way to apologize to you.” Yelena gives you a look that says, Don’t you dare try to gaslight me.

Cuddled up on the couch this morning? That means Bucky didn’t leave in the middle of the night like you thought. He stayed. You bite your lip to suppress a smile, but how ecstatic you are is no secret.

”Ugh, you’re so weird. Remind me never to talk about him around you again.” She turns on her heels and heads out of the room, leaving you with a mess of feelings to sort out in your head.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It’s late afternoon when you eventually get the courage to talk to Bucky. You’ve been avoiding all the usual places he goes throughout the day because you're afraid you’ll tell him how you feel. Gosh, you feel like a foolish teenager.

You want this more than anything. You want him more than anything. But there are a lot of what-ifs to consider. What if he doesn’t feel the same, and then you feel awkward? What if you do test this out and it doesn’t work out? Now you’ve ruined your friendship. And worst, what if he has feelings for you and wants you just as badly? You won’t know how to act with that last one.

You ultimately said to hell with all those questions because you need answers, and the only person who can answer them is Bucky. You won’t beat around the bush any longer; if there are consequences, so be it. You can live with whatever outcome, even if it hurts.

When you arrive at his bedroom, the door is already open a crack. You softly knock on it, causing it to swing open more. His gravelly voice comes through the door. “Come in.”

You push the door to proceed forward into his space before closing the door behind you. Bucky is leaning against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other with his laptop on his thigh. “Hey.” You mutter as you step closer to his bed.

He straightens instantly, placing his laptop next to him. “Hi.” As he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, he sucks air through his teeth and his face contorts into one of discomfort. He tries to hide how sore he is, but fails miserably. “What’s up?” His voice comes out strained.

Concern is written on your face as you examine him. “You’re in pain.” You cross the room to stand before him.

Bucky tries to brush off your worries. ”It’s nothing. I must’ve pulled something while training.”

You give him an unimpressed look and motion for him to turn. “May I?”

“Really, I’m fine.” He shrugs, but even that gesture seems to cause him more pain.

“Can I touch you or not, James?” Your tone relays a sense of authority, but your voice remains soft.

He lets out a deep sigh and reluctantly turns to the side, so you have access to his back. “Yes, ma’am. You can go ahead and touch me.”

You’ve never been one for formalities, but the way he says ma’am has you reeling. You recover, though, positioning yourself behind him, a knee propped on the bed for leverage.

You place your hands on his shoulders, lightly squeezing his muscles and working your way down his arms. He’s stiff beneath your touch, so you gently coax him by whispering in his ear.

“Relax for me.” As if you commanded him, he drops his shoulders and lets his head fall forward. You increase the pressure and start to massage the knots in his neck, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. You continue to knead his upper back, neck, and shoulder muscles until you can feel the tension melting.

”Training, huh?” You ask as you carry on with your task.

”That’s what I said.” Bucky mumbles, evidently lost in the relief you’re giving him.

”Yes, but you’re lying.”

You hear him swallow hard. “What?”

”I know you fell asleep with me on the couch last night.”

Bucky picks his head up, though he hasn’t turned to meet your gaze. “Were you awake?”

”No, Yelena told me.” You pause, rubbing at a stubborn knot in his back. “You could have gone to bed, y’know?”

He nods once. “Yeah, I know, but,” the super soldier wavers slightly, “I didn’t want to.”

The confession hits like a punch to the gut. You want to press the matter, but as your hands journey back up to his shoulders, he rests a hand over yours, and you freeze.

He pivots to face you, his flesh hand still over yours. As he turns, your other hand falls to your side, and you pick your knee off the bed. “Thank you, but why did you actually come here? Because I know you didn’t come here to take care of me, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, you’re incredibly nervous. His eyes are locked on you, and his hand's warmth causes your heart to race. “Uh…it’s something Yelena said.”

Bucky grabs your hand off his shoulder, taking it in both of his—flesh and metal. He starts to rub soothing circles into the skin. “You two made up then?”

“Yeah,” the word seems to get caught in your throat from how he’s massaging your hand.

”Good, I’m glad.” He rotates your hand, palm up, and repeats the action to that side. “So, what did she say?”

You swallow hard to regain your composure, but your heart is still rapidly beating. “She said I’m the glue that holds this team together. She mentioned that she may have gotten that from someone else.” You give him a knowing look.

Bucky halts his actions and releases your hand. Then, he moves to the other one and starts massaging it. “I wonder who.” You arch a brow, and he sighs, conceding in his efforts to deny it.

“Fine, I said it and I meant it.” He adds emphasis to the last part. “You do a lot for this team; we don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.” You quietly gasp, but he still hears it.

He drops your hand and proceeds. “You’re kind, caring, and you always listen. Even if it’s not worthy of your attention. I mean how many times have you listened to the same damn story from Alexei’s ‘glory days’?”

You giggle, light and breathy. You flush a deep red color, and there’s no use in hiding it. “I don’t mind.”

”See, that’s what I’m talking about.” Bucky braces his hands on his knees and hauls himself up to stand before you. “You care so much about everyone else, but don’t let anyone do the same for you.”

He leans in, and you sharply inhale. Your eyes dart between both his eyes before your attention dips to his parted lips briefly. He notices, because of course he does, and the corner of his lip lifts into a sly smirk. He glances down at your lips in return.

Did you die and go to heaven? Because there is no way this is happening. Are you reading this wrong, or did he honestly look at your lips? You want to close the distance, but it’s not that simple. You have to leave before you do something stupid.

You step around him and begin to book it to his door, but he’s much quicker than you. “Where are you going?” Bucky snatches your arm before you can get too far. He spins you around to scan your face.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you’re sure he’s going to drive you wild. ”I think I might do something reckless if I stay.” You murmur.

”Then, let me do it instead, doll.” Bucky’s voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

He inspects you for any sign of hesitation, but there is none. His flesh hand moves to brush your hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. Bucky lets his touch drag down your jaw, tracing the skin there. Then, he takes a firm hold of it and brings you closer, capturing your lips.

The kiss is soft and slow at first, lips moving against each other like you have all the time in the world. Bucky’s other hand finds your waist, and he pulls you closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. You melt into him, and one of your arms wraps around him as your other hand cups the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

It quickly turns hungry, your lips moving with his in a desperate dance of passion. As it starts to get heated, his tongue runs along your bottom lip, requesting access.

You part your lips immediately, and his tongue slips into your mouth. He lets out a satisfied hum when he finds your tongue. He’s completely immersed in you. His tongue explores your mouth like it’s a personal mission to taste every inch of you. Your knees buckle slightly, and his hand leaves your jaw to grab your hip, granting you stability.

Your tongues slide and swirl with one another as your hand snakes up and under his shirt, feeling his bare skin. Bucky positions his leg between your thighs, and you moan into the kiss at the contact.

He breaks the kiss and gazes down at you. You’re flushed and trembling with desire. You're both trying to slow your breathing, but it’s pointless. He dips his head to attach his lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone. You grind against his leg, needing some friction. “Bucky,” you breathe.

He growls against your skin, sending vibrations through you. He tightens his grip on your hip and begins to help guide your movement. Then, he moves to your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and licking its shell. “Tell me what you need, doll.” His tone is raspy in your ear.

Your breathing turns erratic at all the sensations, and your knees threaten to give out, but you know he has you. “I…I need you.”

“Fuck,” he drawls in your ear before pulling back to get a glimpse of you. “That’s all I want to hear. Are you going to let me take care of you?”

You open your mouth to speak, but the words won’t come. You nod in response, and he doesn’t waste any time.

“Good girl.” Bucky picks you up by your thighs effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. You realize you’ve always wanted to witness that super soldier strength firsthand, and now you have a front row seat to the show.

Bucky carries you the short distance to the bed and lays you down gingerly. He crawls onto the mattress after you and nudges your legs apart with his knee so that he can situate himself between your thighs. He braces his arm next to your head, hovering over you. You bite your lip at the sight of his bicep on full display. He lets out a low chuckle as his other hand slips under your shirt.

He lets his fingers dance across your flesh, reveling in the way you shiver. Bucky takes the hem of your shirt in both hands and pulls it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. He hums at the sight of you before making quick work of your bra. He reaches around you and unclasps it as he lowers the straps off your shoulders.

He drinks you in, naked from the waist up. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.” Bucky plunges to kiss along your sternum while his hand wanders up to cup your breast. He trails kisses to your other breast before his tongue darts out to tease your nipple.

His eyes flick up to you as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand gently squeezes and massages your other breast. You arch your back and you let out a soft whimper. You feel a heat pool in your lower stomach as the tension builds in your aching body.

“Bucky, please.” You beg while you buck your hips up into him to relieve some of that growing pressure.

He releases your nipple with a soft pop. “Shh…patience, doll. Let me take my time with this beautiful body of yours.”

Bucky switches to the other, giving each breast equal attention. You grunt in frustration, and he laughs against your skin. You begin to protest, but he bites your nipple, causing a new wave of pleasure to crash over you. You silence yourself and let him work his magic.

As he languidly kisses and sucks the opposite breast, his fingers toy with your other one. Bucky’s thumb rubs and flicks over your nipple, drawing a moan from your lips.

Once he’s satisfied, his mouth moves further down. He kisses and nips at your skin as he travels to your lower stomach. Bucky licks along the spot above your waistband, and you squirm underneath him.

“Lift your hips for me, doll.” He pats your thigh and glances up at you; his blue eyes are dark. You obey, digging your heels into the mattress to lift the lower half of your body. He hooks his thumbs into your shorts and peels them off, leaving you in just your panties.

He’s breathless as he admires the way you’re sporting those black, lace panties. Bucky licks his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth. You’re thrumming with anticipation from how he’s examining you like you’re his next meal and he’s starving. He traces the outline of your underwear with a single digit. Then, runs his finger over your core, his touch feather-light, but it still causes you to twitch.

“Mmm…so wet for me.” Bucky plants a soft kiss to your underwear clad clit. He takes the lace band and drags it down your thighs. You raise your legs, and he slips them off and stuffs them in the back pocket of his jeans. You playfully roll your eyes, and he smirks at you.

“What, I can’t have a little souvenir of our first time?” He grabs the underside of your knee and hooks it over his shoulder as he kisses your inner thigh.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I just kinda like that pair.” You jest.

”I can see why.” Bucky looks up through his lashes and winks at you. You giggle, and you’re sure that this man is going to be the death of you. “But, I gotta say, I prefer you in nothing.” He fans his hot breath across you as his mouth gets closer to where you need him most. “Such a pretty pussy.”

Yep, he’s going to kill you, and if it isn’t from that handsome face, then it will be from that filthy mouth. You smooth his hair back and out of his face, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of him. He looks like a dream. Maybe this is a dream because he’s too damn perfect.

Bucky leans into your touch as you run your fingers through his long hair. His expression softens, and he presses a lingering kiss to your thigh.

“Can I taste you, babydoll?” His voice goes deep and husky. Your breathing stutters at the nickname; he can tell you like it.

“Yes, please.” Your eyes are pleading, like you can’t wait a second longer.

”Anything for you.” He lowers his mouth to lick a strip up your center. You whine and grip his dark strands. Bucky’s tongue dives back in, devouring you. His tongue works expertly on your wet heat, licking up your juices and teasing your entrance.

You writhe and squirm under him as erotic sounds exit your wide-open mouth. “Fuck, that feels so good. Your mouth is perfection.”

Bucky groans against your pussy hearing your sounds and praises. His metal hand rises to rest on your lower stomach as the other one grabs your hip, holding you still. He flicks his tongue over your clit before lightly sucking on it. He swirls his tongue around you in tight circles. You tip your head back, letting out a loud, throaty moan.

He lets go of your hip and traces a finger around your entrance as he continues to suck and lick your bundle of nerves. Bucky dips his finger into you and steadily pumps it in and out.

You whimper at the sudden intrusion, and your free hand searches for something to grab onto. You find Bucky’s metal hand on your stomach and grasp the back of it, trying to ground yourself. He flips his hand over, holding your hand in his as he works at your cunt.

He slides a second finger in, stretching you out and pumping deeper into you. Bucky breaks away from your clit, his teeth faintly grazing it, as he comes up for air. Now that you can see his whole face, you notice the way his mouth and chin are covered in your juices. It only adds to the intense pleasure you feel from his skilled fingers.

”You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles before resting your clasped hands on your abdomen again.

You can feel the pressure building inside you with every stroke of his fingers, and it’s overwhelming. You don’t think anyone has ever made you feel this incredible, and you never want the pleasure to end.

He curls his digits inside you, caressing your walls. You squeeze around his fingers, and he picks up the pace, wanting to bring you to the edge. Your thighs begin to quiver as moans and whimpers fill the room. “Bucky…I’m so close. Please, don’t stop.”

”Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He drops his head down, mouth pushing between your slick folds. Bucky doubles down on his efforts. His fingers thrust faster while he sucks on your clit hard, then his tongue starts to move with even more purpose—swirling, flicking, and teasing.

Without warning, your orgasm wracks through your body. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing down upon you. You come undone with a strangled cry as your eyes squeeze shut. Your hand instinctively pulls on Bucky’s hair as you ride out your climax. He helps you prolong your orgasm by keeping up with his ministrations.

He slows his movements to a stop and lets you catch your breath. You shudder with aftershocks of pleasure as you come down from your high.

He unhooks your leg from his shoulder and begins to kiss and nip up the expanse of your body. He inches up your form until he’s level with your face. Your eyes are still closed, and he chuckles low at your blissed out state. He plants kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose, making you release a breathy laugh. He finally places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips before leaning back to inspect you.

“You still with me, doll?” Bucky brushes a stray damp hair out of your face. You open your eyes, giving him a soft grin. “Ah, there’s my pretty girl. You doin’ okay?”

Your smile grows wider because he looks like an angel above you and has the nerve to call you pretty. “Better than okay. That was unreal.” You grab the back of his neck as your thumb caresses the skin. “Do you eat pussy for a living?” You jokingly add.

He gives you an amused look. “I can eat your pussy for a living. Keep me down there between your thighs and I’ll be a happy man.” He pinches your thigh to emphasize his words.

You giggle and wish time would stop for a minute because you want to stay in this moment forever. You snap yourself out of your daze and gesture between the two of you. “This isn’t fair.”

”What’s not fair, doll?” He gives you a quizzical expression.

”You’re wearing too many clothes.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “I can fix that.”

Bucky climbs off the bed and reaches behind him, pulling at the collar of his black shirt until it's off. You’re faced with sharp lines and toned muscles like a fucking ancient Greek sculpture. It’s absurd how sexy he is. You don’t know if you’ve met a more attractive person.

You lean on your forearms to better view him as he continues the show. Bucky unbuckles his belt; just the clang of the metal makes a fire light within your very bones. He slips it out of the belt loops of his dark-washed jeans before tugging them and his boxers down his legs.

You cast your eyes down at where the material pools at his feet, then slowly let them glide up his figure. Fuck. You don’t know where to look. His thighs, chest, biceps, abs, dick-

He’s huge, and he looks painfully hard. Forget what you said before about his handsome face and filthy mouth, his dick will be the death of you. You’re sure that’s the best way to go, though, so you can’t find it in your heart to care much.

Bucky crawls back over top of you, settling into his original place. Your hands are instantly on him, tracing his dips and contours. His stomach muscles flex beneath your touch.

“Stunning.” You mutter. You lift your head to kiss along the spot where skin meets metal, and he quivers above you.

“Doll-“ His voice is sweet and warm like honey in your ear. You register that his cock is hard against your thigh as you trail kisses to his neck. You grip him firmly in your hand, carefully stroking his leaky cock.

He gasps softly at the feel of your soft hand on him. Bucky’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and his breathing is ragged in your ear as you continue your movements. Your thumb swipes at the precum that beads at the slit, spreading it to give you more purchase.

”Oh, sweetheart.” He growls, low and rough. “Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

You hum in agreement as you free him from your grasp. “Well then,” you move your mouth to hover beside his ear and whisper. ”Take me, baby.”

Bucky grunts and pecks your shoulder before pulling away to gaze into your eyes. His eyes are dark with desire, matching your own. He takes his dick in his hand and positions himself between your thighs. He runs the head through your slick and teases your entrance with his tip.

“Are you ready for me?”

Your free hand finds a place on his bicep in preparation, knowing you’ll need stability from his sheer size. “Yes, Bucky.”

He slides inside of you, nice and slow, taking his time to stretch you out on his cock. His entire body stiffens as he feels how tight you are. Bucky groans and his jaw clenches as if it’s taking every bit of control not to slam into you. You suck in breath and tilt your head back. He instantly takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently forcing your gaze back on him.

“Eyes on me, doll. I want to watch you as it goes in.”

Fuck. You’re so turned on that you can’t even respond to him; you just obey. Your eyes are locked on his as he pushes inside you at an achingly slow pace like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

He bottoms out inside you, and you feel impossibly full. You’re just staring at each other now, your rapid breaths mingling in the space between you. Bucky’s giving you a moment to adjust before he even thinks about moving. He also wants to take a moment to feel you surrounding him; it’s overwhelming.

You have to remind yourself to breathe. The stretch of your pussy around him is intense. His dick is buried so far into your tight warmth it’s like he’s drowning in it, but instead you're the one losing oxygen.

He moves his hand from the spot on your chin to cup your cheek, stroking the flushed skin. He leans down and captures your lips in a hungry kiss, hot and desperate, like he needs to taste you. You reciprocate with equal fervor, your hand snaking up into his hair to deepen the kiss as your tongues merge.

He moves both his hands to grab your thighs and hikes them up to wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky’s metal hand settles on your hip as the other searches for your hand on the back of his head. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls it from its place in his hair. He breaks the kiss and brings your palm to his lips, before pinning it above your head.

He leisurely starts to ease in and out of you while trying to get a read on your expression. He wants to make sure you’re feeling good or if you need more time to adjust. But, instead, you softly moan, giving him the reassurance he needs to speed up.

“Atta girl, taking me so well.” Bucky praises. It only seems to make your core wetter, making it easier for him to thrust into you. You tighten your grip on his bicep as he snaps his hips into you. His grip on your hip is bruising as he sets a rhythmic pace, steady and deep.

His hand on your wrist lets go before his fingers glide across your palm to interlock your hands, holding it against the mattress as if to say, I’m here, I’ve got you. You squeeze his hand in a silent reply to remind him that you’re here and not going anywhere.

Bucky adjusts himself as his thrusts turn erratic and sloppy as his pace quickens, slamming deeper into you. He wants to see you completely fall apart under him. You moan loudly at the new angle he’s providing you. He begins to hit that sweet spot deep inside you over and over. The tension rises sharply and quickly, like you might explode at any minute.

”Yes, Bucky. Just like that. So fucking good.” The words spew from your lips like an erupting volcano, and you can’t help the sounds you’re making, loud moans and strained whimpers.

”You sound so pretty, babydoll. Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.” He reaches between your bodies with his metal hand to rub your aching, sensitive clit with his thumb.

You arch your back into him and your hand finds purchase on the carved lines of his back, nails digging into the flesh, leaving behind little crescent moon shapes. The flood of sensations washing over you causes you to clench hard around him as you cry out in pleasure.

”Bucky, I-I’m…” You cut yourself off with a groan as he hits your cervix again.

”I know, sweetheart. I can feel you squeezin’ me.” He rubs your clit faster, applying more pressure, his thumb moving in tight circles. “Let go, doll. Come for me. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

That’s all the motivation you need as you scream his name while your pussy flutters around him. Your body is trembling as you orgasm for the second time tonight. Your vision blurs, and you’re seeing stars. The feeling is euphoric. It’s as if you’re on cloud nine, floating on ecstasy. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, but you need to watch him come undone.

He lets out a strangled moan as he feels you come. It’s the best feeling in the world, and he knows he could easily get addicted to it. He eases off your clit and returns his hold on your hip, firm as if he’s afraid to let go.

Bucky thrusts in once, twice, three times before spilling deep inside you. Hot ropes of cum filling you and coating your walls as he grunts your name, throwing his head back in pure bliss. He clutches your intertwined hands like a lifeline.

You watch in awe as he releases into you. Your mind is still in the clouds as you cup his jaw and force his head down. He opens his eyes, adoration swimming in his soft blues. He presses his forehead to yours as he works you both through your climax, pushing his cum deeper into you.

He ceases his movement, but stays buried to the hilt deep inside you. He wants to keep that connection for a bit longer. You can feel cum leaking out of you as your body goes limp. Bucky rests his weight on top of you, and you welcome it.

He nuzzles his face into your neck as you both come down from your highs, chests rising and falling rapidly. Your hand moves into his hair as you lightly scratch his scalp with your nails. Bucky groans in appreciation, and his lips brush against your neck with lazy kisses.

“Damn,” you breathe into the air. “Is it going to be like that every time?”

He chuckles into the side of your neck, vibrating your body. Bucky inclines his head back, letting go of your hand to lean on his forearm over you. His face has a soft expression, a mix of arrogance and amusement.

“I’m pretty sure it only gets better, doll. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He pinches your side, and you huff air out of your nose in laughter.

“Oh, really? You’re quite cocky, aren’t you?”

“I’m only confident in my ability to please you.” He shoots you a look like he knows how good he made you feel.

Bucky pulls out of you, causing you to softly gasp from how sensitive you are. He rolls over into the spot beside you and takes you with him, cradling you into his warm chest. He places a lingering kiss on your forehead and then tucks your head under his chin. It’s as if you belong there.

You practically melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burrowing the side of your face into his chest. Bucky hums and starts playing with your hair while his metal fingers draw meaningless patterns into your back.

”I’ll clean us up in a bit. Maybe run a bath,” he thinks out loud, making a soft smile grow on your lips. “But right now, I just want to hold my pretty girl.”

You let your eyes flutter closed, reveling in the moment and his soothing actions on your back and hair. “You won’t hear any complaints from me, handsome.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You’re in the kitchen, three different pans heating on the stove. This could potentially be a fire hazard, but it isn’t much of a concern for you. You’re cooking pancakes, eggs, and sausage as you hum to one of the songs blasting from your phone.

Your hips sway to the music, gently, because it seems every time you move, pain surges between your thighs. You don’t mind, though. It’s a reminder of Bucky and the long night you spent together. But, fuck, you’re sore.

You didn’t realize how much stamina a super soldier has, but now you are acutely aware. You thought it would be a nice, relaxing bath after your first round, but someone got a little too handsy. And as you were drying, the towel wrapped snugly around you, Bucky tore it off and had his way with you again. Hence, why you’re hurting this morning, this kind of pain is something you can and will get used to, though.

You decided to make breakfast for him as soon as the sun woke you up, and you couldn’t stop admiring his sweet, sleepy expression. Half the reason is to thank him for rocking your world last night, and the other half is for much-needed sustenance.

You use your spatula to push at the edges of your fluffy pancake to flip it eventually. As you're flipping it, warm hands envelope your waist. You jump slightly, the sudden contact startling you. Bucky rests his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear.

”Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to scare you.“ His voice is still thick with sleep; he must have just woken up.

You grin as you continue with your task. “You’re fine, I just didn’t hear you come in.”

”You left me.” Bucky murmurs against your skin as he kisses a trail down your neck to your shoulder.

”I was making you breakfast in bed, but now that you’re not in bed, it’s just breakfast.” You tease him as you check on your eggs.

He hums, clearly amused by your teasing. “Mmm…I missed you.” Bucky squeezes your torso, and you giggle. “I thought it was all a dream when I didn’t see you next to me.”

”No, not a dream. Very real. The throbbing between my legs is proof of that.”

Bucky snorts as his hands glide down your figure. “I would apologize, but I’m not that sorry. You know I can’t get enough of you.”

He dips his fingers under the hem of your oversized shirt and starts to massage your thighs as he mumbles in your ear. “I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“Bucky,” You softly moan, enjoying the sensations he’s giving you. “You’re distracting me.” Your spatula drops to the counter as you reach up to rest a hand on his cheek, keeping him close to your ear.

He lightly laughs in your ear as he pulls you by your hips, your ass flush against his growing erection. His fingers dig into your flesh, gripping and rubbing at your thighs.

”A good distraction?” Bucky nibbles on your ear.

You bite your lip to suppress another moan. You take a firm hold of his jaw and turn your head, angling your lips inches from his.

”You know it.” You mutter against his mouth before pressing your lips to his.

It’s soft and tender, lips moving unhurriedly like you're learning from every brush of each other's mouth. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and he gently bites it, tugging on it before letting go.

Bucky dives back in, kissing you deeply as his tongue pushes its way past the seam of your lips. As he slides his tongue against yours, his fingertips trace your inner thighs. Your skin dots with goosebumps from his touch. You start grinding your ass on him until-

“Ah! What the fuck?” A voice cuts through the air, and you instantly break away from Bucky’s mouth to see the source of the words.

Yelena is shielding her eyes with a repulsed expression on her face. Bucky moves away from you, adjusting himself in his sweatpants. You straighten out your oversized shirt, bunched around your torso, even though you’re wearing shorts underneath.

“Is your dick out or can I open my eyes now?” Yelena can barely get out the words because she’s gagging.

Bucky groans, rubbing at his forehead, so you answer for him. ”Holy shit, Yelena. No! We’re not animals.” You glance over to Bucky, and he shrugs with a mischievous grin as if to say, Well…

You shake your head at him. “Not helping.” You whisper.

You turn back to Yelena, and her eyes are still squeezed shut. “You can open your eyes now.”

She hesitantly peels her eyes open, peeking behind her hand. Once she knows you’re both decent, she drops her hand to her side.

”Now, I have to wash my eyes with bleach to get that image out of my head.” Yelena grumbles, advancing further into the kitchen to the coffee pot.

”We were just kissing.” You insist, though you’re blushing.

”It looked like a lot more than kissing to me.” Yelena mutters as she begins to pour herself a cup.

Bucky steps around you, a hand on the small of your back as he kisses your cheek. “Sorry, that was my fault.” He murmurs. “Guess I should have stayed in bed. I’ll see you there?” He offers you an apologetic look.

You give him a soft smile. “Yeah, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed like I originally planned.”

He nods, giving you one last kiss on the cheek like he can’t resist you. “Alright, babydoll.” The nickname melts you, and you’re beaming at him before you know it.

Bucky begins to wander out of the kitchen, but pauses to glance over his shoulder. “Smells delicious, by the way. I meant to say that, but got a little…distracted.” You giggle, and he veers right and out of the room.

You return to your cooking and notice the pancake is slightly burnt. You scoop it onto a plate with an easy grin, like it doesn’t matter to you, because Bucky’s lips were on yours as it burned.

“Cute.” Yelena's voice breaks you from your trance, and when you glance at her, she’s slanted against the counter, sipping her coffee as she stares at you.

“Sickeningly cute, but I suppose cute nonetheless.” She mutters into the mouth of her mug.

You snort as you begin to assemble the breakfast on your dishes. As you're plating the food, you catch Yelena from the corner of your eye. She’s still studying you, and it’s starting to make you uncomfortable. You turn your body towards her.

”What is it?” You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for her to spit it out.

”Although I never want to see that again,” she gestures to the air around you, referring to the make-out session she just witnessed. “I’m happy for you two.”

Her words cause you to stagger briefly. That’s not what you thought she would say, but you are pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, Yelena.”

You consider Yelena’s statement for a second. You have this weightless feeling that you’ve never had in the morning. You seem to walk with a bounce to your step. There’s a constant fluttering in your stomach. You’re happy. And it’s all because of Bucky. Even though this is new and fresh, you somehow know that feeling will never disappear.

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #avenger!bucky #avenger!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #thunderbolts #one shot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #sebastian stan

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ao3org · 6 months ago

Text

On Your Left! — Changes to Captain America Fandom Tags

Hello! In the near future, Marvel tag wranglers will be updating fandom tags on AO3 to separate the upcoming Captain America movies featuring Sam Wilson as Captain America from the trilogy of films with Steve Rogers as Captain America.

To do this, we will be renaming the fandom Captain America (Movies) to Captain America (Chris Evans Movies) and creating a new fandom named Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies). Both will be made subtags of Marvel Cinematic Universe and Captain America - All Media Types.

In summary:

Captain America (Chris Evans Movies) will refer to the 2011, 2014, and 2016 movies featuring Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, and Bucky Barnes.

Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies) will refer to the 2025 movie Brave New World featuring Sam Wilson and Joaquín Torres. This fandom tag will also refer to any sequel Captain America movies starring Sam Wilson in the title role.

Fans interested in reading about both movie series can include both Marvel Cinematic Universe and Captain America - All Media Types in tag filtering. The current fandom tag for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), which is a subtag of Marvel Cinematic Universe but not Captain America - All Media Types, will also be unaffected by these changes. We’ve included more details of our reasoning below, which better explains why we’re making this change.

Why are you making two separate fandom tags? Can’t everyone just keep using “Captain America (Movies)”?

Despite both having the superhero name “Captain America” and the same continuity, fundamentally the main character has changed between the original trilogy and the new 2025 movie. We also wanted to hopefully make it easier for fans to differentiate between which movies and continuities they’re discussing. Many Sam Wilson fans will likely want to filter for the movie where he’s the central focus; conversely, many Steve Rogers fans will likely want to filter out movies where he doesn’t appear.

We’re specifically using “Chris Evans” and “Anthony Mackie” in the fandom tags as they’re the most recognizable and consistent aspect of the movies. There’s no consistent set of directors between all Chris Evans Captain America movies, and actor names are much more recognizable than including multiple years in the fandom tags. This style of making fandom tags named after actors is similar to other fandoms on AO3. For example, there are many James Bond movie fandom tags which differentiate via the actors’ names.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe is also not the only time Captain America has been adapted to the big screen: there’s a 1944 movie starring Dick Purnell, a 1979 movie starring Reb Brown, and a 1990 movie starring Mat Salinger. The current fandom tag Captain America (Movies) is worded in a way that technically encompasses these unrelated movies as well. It doesn’t make sense for these unrelated continuities to share one fandom tag, so we would have changed the existing Captain America (Movies) tag to be more specific regardless of the release of Brave New World.

Like we mentioned above, fans interested in reading about both MCU movie series at once can filter for both Marvel Cinematic Universe and Captain America - All Media Types.

Why Mackie Movies instead of Brave New World?

The movie title has already changed several times in between promotion and release. It’s also highly likely Marvel will make sequel movies. Formatting the tag as Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies) prevents the disruption of renaming the fandom tag in the future.

We will be creating an Additional Tag for Captain America: Brave New World, similar to how there are Additional Tags for Movie: Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Movie: Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021). We hope the Additional Tag will help fans filter for specific movies within the broader series of movies.

Why does Brave New World get a separate fandom tag while First Avenger, Winter Soldier, and Civil War would still share?

Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and Captain America: Civil War all encompass the trilogy centering around Steve Rogers. While Captain America: Brave New World is also set in the same continuity, the main character and actor has changed, and the role of Sam Wilson has changed from being a supporting character to the main focus.

It’s likely that Marvel will release sequel movies to Brave New World, which will not receive separate fandom tags and would instead also be covered by the new Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies) tag. We hope that separating the fandom tags now will prevent the messiness of renaming tags again in the future, and also allow fans to filter for works that focus on the specific Captain America they are looking for.

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

#marvel #mcu #captain america #sam wilson #steve rogers #ao3 #archive of our own #tag wrangling changes

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valiasims · 23 days ago

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Sunwoven - Patio

Hey everyone!

Sorry for being a little late with this release. I originally planned to post it last weekend, but I always underestimate how much time swatches and photo editing actually take! But now it’s finally here, and I’m so happy to share it with you!

This set (and the upcoming ones in this theme) is really close to my heart. Around this same time last year, I made the Mediterranean Build Collection, and it looks like summer always brings out my Mediterranean side! I originally planned a multi-part boho collection, but I couldn’t resist mixing in those Mediterranean vibes.

If you’re curious about my thought process behind the set, I wrote more about it in an earlier WIP post—so I won’t go into all that again. But basically, I’ll be doing more parts in this series, focusing on different areas and rooms of a home. The first stop is the patio, and I got really inspired by lemon trees.

You’ll notice I included a few slightly opened doors, they function just like the regular closed ones, and Sims can walk through them without any issues.

The lemon tree has orange and lime swatches too, and some versions come without the pot, so you can use them in gardens as well!

All windows come in single and double versions, and in three sizes: small, medium (to fit kitchen counters), and tall (for short wall height only). Each one has a closed and opened version. I added slots to the window sills. They technically work, but they’re a bit fussy. From two angles you can place items just fine, but from the others, the game kind of forgets they're there and refuses to do it :D I decided to keep the slots anyway in case you still find them useful because I'm going to make some cute flowers next.

I hope you like this set, I had so much fun making pictures of it. I'm really proud of how the door turned out! Lastly I want to thank you for reaching 27 000 followers on Patreon! For me this is such a huge number, I can't believe I'm writing this post to that many people! I really hope you have fun with my items, that is my main goal! Let me know your thoughts!

The Set Includes

Rattan Armchair

Rattan Loveseat

Citrus Tree

Double Front Door (closed, ajar)

Single Front Door (closed, ajar)

Lemon Basket

Cracked Plaster Wall

Plaster Wall

Terracotta Floor Tiles

Wall Cracks Decals (4 versions)

Metal Window Guard (2 sizes)

Small Window (closed, opened)

Medium Window (closed, opened)

Tall Window (closed, opened)

Small Double Window (closed, opened)

Medium Double Window (closed, opened)

Tall Double Window (closed, opened)

-BECOME A MEMBER- Public release on the 21th of July 6PM CET

#ts4cc #ts4 maxis match #maxis match #the sims 4 cc #the sims 4 custom content #ts4ccfinds #sims 4 cc #cc #the sims cc #cc finds #sims 4 #ts4 cc #ts4 custom objects #valia #valiasims #cc download #sims4 download #ts4 download #wisteria whisk

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whos-the-seme · 5 months ago

Text

Shen Qingqiu was doomed.

He stood still, fluttering his fan nervously and trying to avoid catching his counterpart's, the real Shen Qingqiu, glaring eyes from across the room. Instead, he idly observed the other Cang Qiong Mountain Peak Lords, trying to spot the differences between the ones he knew and their alternates.

Liu Qingge had brought back a strange artifact from one of his hunts to the monthly Peak Lord meeting. It was a mirror, rimmed an ugly tarnished gold, topped with a decoration that was shaped into an unidentifiable creature with ruby red eyes.

[Important Artifact Detected: Red-Eyed Sphinx's Mirror! Quest starting...]

Shen Qingqiu had been trying to remember where it might have appeared in PIDW when the surface of the mirror suddenly began to glow a dull yellow. It quickly brightened until it obscured everyone's vision.

And then, there stood another set of peak lords across the room, facing them down.

System, what on earth is going on???

[Quest started: Lost Long Spirit in My Reflection! Other characters have been transported to this universe. Host must find a way to send them back without revealing his identity as a transmigrator.]

WTF? I didn't agree to this!

[Good luck!]

System??? Get back here!

While the two Yue Qingyuans and Xu Qinglis conversed together to try to understand what had happened, the other peak lords had begun to mingle with each other, curious about their counterparts.

Shen Qingqiu tried to suppress his panic, sticking close to Shang Qinghua. His Yue Qingyuan occasionally flicked his softened gaze towards the alternate Shen Qingqiu, likely noticing that the other still acted as he used to before his qi deviation. In fact, several of the peak lords he had gotten to know over the years were sending some looks at the other Shen Qingqiu.

With the original goods right there, how long would it be before something exposed him as a fraud?? What if he was confronted about why he acted so differently?

[Host must avoid having his identity exposed. Being revealed as a transmigrator will result in Host being immediately sent back to his old body.]

Yeah, yeah, same shit as always!

Looking to his side, Shang Qinghua seemed to be experiencing the same threats, desperately looking away from the more dead-eyed Shang Qinghua across the room who, luckily, was barely paying him any attention.

Fuck, what do we do?

---

Shen Qingqiu continued to glare at the Other Shen Qingqiu in the room. The other Shen Qingqiu was so obviously a fraud, he could tell within minutes of being here. While his alternate seemed somewhat familiar, he didn't act like him at all, his mannerisms were all off, and despite the attempt at keeping a poker face, Shen Qingqiu could tell that he was nervous. Probably at being caught out.

His alternate self had likely been replaced with a bodysnatcher or some sort of spirt, if they truly were supposed to be the same person. Was everyone else stupid, or had they had their brains sucked out by a Heart Mouthed Lobster-Squid?

Or maybe they simply like the bodysnatcher better and didn't bother to investigate.

Shen Qingqiu's face became stormier, turning his glare to the Other Yue Qingyuan, wondering if he had felt happier once his precious Xiao-Jiu had vanished. The other Yue Qingyuan's face grew even more pathetic. Tch. Typical.

"That stupid System--" Shen Qingqiu nearly snapped his neck in looking at the bodysnatcher upon hearing his murmur. The fraud, upon noticing his sudden attention, clammed back up and looked away. But Shen Qingqiu knew what he heard.

Xi Tong.

He hadn't heard those words in years, not since--

He stepped forward, scanning the other once more. Upon a second, more thorough look, Shen Qingqiu realized that he grew more familiar. He wore his hair in the way that Shen Qingqiu wore it, but looser and less severe. His eyes were clearer and lighter, with hints of a smile, despite his nerves. He occasionally quickly glanced up and to his left, as if seeing something there, before bringing his attention back to the room at large.

No. It couldn't be. He was long dead, despite Shen Qingqiu's best efforts. Even if the fake had some similar things about him, that doesn't mean--

Shen Jiu had once had a brother, besides Qi-ge. Slightly smaller than him, despite the fact that Shen Jiu passed him along as much food as he could when on the streets. He smiled so much despite their circumstances, and was so kind despite Shen Jiu constantly telling him that he was making himself a target. But he looked so, so similar to Shen Jiu himself. They could have switched their clothes and looked exactly the same, if one didn't notice the difference in their demeanors.

His brother has also always been a little odd, talking to himself and arguing with an imaginary friend that only he could see named Xi Tong. One of the reasons that they survived as long as they did on the streets was due to the inexplicable knowledge that his brother seemed to have. Somehow, his brother knew about the various plants or small animals that they could hunt and sell for a pretty coin in the markets. Shen Jiu never asked, not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

But his brother was dead. He had died years ago, in the time during when they were in Qiu's manor. During a punishment for Shen Jiu's attempt to get them both to join Wu Yanzi; he had switched their clothes and taken Shen Jiu's place and died for it. That had been the final catalyst that made him set the manor ablaze and escape, mourning his brother's death as his fault for daring to be free. Cursing Qi-ge for not coming back for them.

Dazed and his vision dim, Shen Jiu took another step forward, and another. Hope, something he thought he had killed off long ago, slowly rose in his chest.

Had his brother survived in this world? Had he managed to escape alongside Shen Jiu? Or had Shen Jiu died in his place? Dimly, he can't help but think that the world would be far kinder if that were the case. If his brother had made it to Cang Qiong Mountain and became a peak lord all on his own and still managed to keep his smile. If he didn't have Shen Jiu dragging him down with him.

The other Shen Qingqiu, not having noticed his approach, laughed at something the other Shang Qinghua said ("Wonder if Shang Qinghua is a traitor here, too," Shen Jiu thought dimly). His laugh was the same. He rose his fan to hide his face, but Shen Jiu noticed how his nose crinkled, and his eyes nearly closed in delight, exactly like--

"A-Yuan?"

#Xu Qingli is peak lord of artifact refining and from Grand Unified Theory of Shen Qingqiu btw #mxtx svsss #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #svsss #original shen qingqiu #shen jiu #airplane shooting towards the sky #peerless cucumber #scumbag self saving system #parallel universe #parallel world #shen twins #shen brothers #qiu jianluo #Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu are brothers in the parallel world but Shen Yuan is dead #I like to let Shen Jiu have a spark of happiness #Maybe that's why he's like this who knows #me when I encounter my dead brother in another universe #Shen Yuan is gonna have a tough time trying to not reveal that he is neither a transmigrator #nor this guy's dead brother #he can't win #I wonder what Alternate Yue Qingyuan is thinking #I wonder what the peak lords we know are thinking #did Shen Yuan exist in this universe? idk maybe

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cressidagrey · 1 month ago

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Love in Bubblewrap

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Felicity Piastri fixes things. Regardless of what they are. Even if they are her sister-in-law’s stolen K-Pop albums.

Warnings and Notes: I came up with while taking a shower which means the idea is either genius or horrible. Inspired by Hattie Piastri's TikTok's about her stolen TxT albums. I have never once listened to K-Pop but I did my research (aka I googled names and song titles.)

Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

Group Chat: Piastri Fam ❤️

Hattie: WHOEVER BROKE INTO MY CAR I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS WARM AND YOUR TOAST FALLS BUTTER-SIDE DOWN

Oscar: Hi to you too?

Edie: Wait. What.

Hattie: They SMASHED the driver window IN BROAD DAYLIGHT TO STEAL MY TXT ALBUMS MY ALBUMS, OSCAR. DO YOU UNDERSTAND.

Mae: Wait wait wait. They didn’t take your wallet? Just your K-pop?

Hattie: My wallet was in the glovebox. My laptop was in the boot. They took the bag with my photocard binders and albums. I HOPE THEY GET A PAPER CUT FROM YEONJUN’S EYELASHES

Chris: what is a txt album

Nicole: Chris. Not now.

Oscar: …How many albums are we talking?

Hattie: ALL OF THEM

Edie: OH MY GOD.

Mae: That’s criminal. That’s actually criminal.

Oscar: Yes. Because it is a crime.

Chris: did you call the police

Hattie: YES, DAD. They asked if there was anything of “significant personal value” missing and I almost cried telling the constable about my Soobin photocard collection.

Nicole: Oh, sweetheart 😢

Mae: Do you have any photos for insurance? Maybe we can file under collectibles?

Hattie: I had a spreadsheet. An ACTUAL spreadsheet.

Oscar: …you had a spreadsheet of your photocards?

Hattie: Yes. Because I’m an ORGANIZED YOUNG WOMAN WITH GOALS.

Edie:She learned it from Felicity.

Nicole: I’ll call the insurance tomorrow, Hattie. We’ll sort this out.

Chris: still don’t understand why they didn’t take your laptop

Mae: It was probably targeted. There’s a resale market for rare photocards.

Oscar: How do you know that.

Mae: I dabble.

Hattie: I’m going to manifest their downfall using a cursed Taehyun photocard.

Edie: You’re like a witch but with glitter and Spotify Premium.

Oscar: I’m begging someone to explain what a cursed photocard is.

Mae: It’s when someone once traded for it and got food poisoning the same day. It’s ✨infused✨.

Oscar: Okay. That’s enough internet for me today.

Chris: do you need me to fix the window

Hattie: Already booked a repair. I’m not mad about the glass. I’m mad about the betrayal.

Oscar: You make it sound like that Yeonjun guy broke into your car himself.

Hattie: He would never. Unlike SOME PEOPLE who’ve never even listened to “Blue Hour.”

Oscar: I’m not sure I even know what that is.

Edie: Uncultured.

Mae: Honestly embarrassed to share a last name with you.

Hattie: Just so everyone knows, the Spotify speaker I keep in my car still works. So if anyone wants to Venmo me emotional damages via new albums, I’ll accept.

Nicole: We’ll replace the ones we can, darling. One step at a time.

Chris: and next time don’t leave them in plain view

Hattie: They were in a tote bag under my raincoat WHAT DID THEY HAVE, X-RAY VISION AND A PERSONAL VENDETTA

Oscar: This chat is more intense than any strategy debrief I’ve had all season

Nicole: Let’s not joke. She’s upset.

Edie: We’re coping through humour, Mum.

***

Hattie wasn’t expecting a package.

She definitely wasn’t expecting that package.

It arrived two days after the break-in — dropped off by a courier who looked faintly intimidated, like whatever he was carrying had weight beyond the cardboard. Nicole opened the door, accepted the package and set it carefully on the kitchen bench like a letter bomb, then called up the stairs with the tone that meant your life is about to change, and not necessarily in a normal way.

“Hattie? Something came for you.”

Hattie padded downstairs in slippers and mild emotional ruin. Her window was still shattered. Her albums were still gone. Her Spotify had become a graveyard of songs she couldn’t listen to without hearing glass shatter.

So she wasn’t in the mood for mystery.

“It’s from Felicity,” Nicole said gently, handing it over.

That made Hattie pause.

The box was medium-sized. Not huge. Not heavy. But taped shut with a kind of efficiency that said I own a label maker and I’m not afraid to use it.

There was no note — just her name, written in neat, all-caps handwriting across the front like a letter.

Hattie opened it.

And immediately had to sit down.

Inside were her albums. All of them. The exact editions. The pre-order bonuses. Even the Target exclusive one that took Hattie six weeks to hunt down the first time.

Each was sealed in a Ziploc bag, labeled with release year and version code.

She found her photocards next. Not her originals — those were gone — but a full curated set of the most likely pulls, alongside protective sleeves and one unmistakably fake (and glittery) Yeonjun card clearly drawn by Bee in crayon. It had a tiny heart in the corner.

There was also a pack of Tim Tams, two bubble tea vouchers, and a post-it note that read:

Didn’t have time to hex the thief properly. Settled for passive-aggressive online bulk ordering instead. Let me know if there is anything specific I missed. Love, F.

Hattie stared at it for a long moment.

Then sat down, quiet and stunned, and just breathed.

Because this was the thing about Felicity — she didn’t do things halfway. Didn’t stop at oh no, that’s awful. She solved the problem. Replaced what was lost. Quietly handed you love wrapped in bubble wrap and called it nothing at all.

And Hattie thought — not for the first time — how lucky they were.

How lucky Oscar was.

Because somehow her annoying, infuriating, brilliant brother had found a woman who was all quiet fire and sharp edges and spreadsheets and garden-grown tomatoes — and who loved him so fiercely, so completely, that she extended that love to all of his family without question.

And every so often, like this — like now — Hattie remembered that Oscar didn’t just fall in love with someone wonderful.

He chose someone who made everything better just by being in it.

She blinked down at the photocards again. Ran a thumb over Bee’s glittery artwork.

Grinned.

Then she looked at her phone and typed:

Hattie: I hope you know we all know we hit the absolute jackpot when Oscar found you. I don’t know how you did this. But thank you. Tell Bee her art is perfect.

Felicity responded a minute later.

Felicity: Tell her yourself — she wants to FaceTime you. Also I expect snacks next time you go to Korea.

***

Group Chat: Piastri Fam ❤️

Hattie: oscar. your wife just avenged the txt robbery with military precision. she replaced the ENTIRE collection. INCLUDING photocards.

Oscar: …she what wait what?

Nicole: It arrived this morning. I handed Hattie the package myself.

Hattie: AND SHE SENT TIM TAMS. AND A NOTE. AND SPARKLY ART FROM BEE. who, by the way, is now my favorite niece.

Oscar:She’s your only niece.

Fliss didn’t tell me she did that i thought she was just quietly rage-baking sourdough

Mae: nah your wife was rage-sourcing Soobin photocards on eBay

Edie: this is so Felicity-coded subtle vengeance and laminated instructions

Hattie: you’re so lucky, Oscar. like genuinely. i hope you wake up every day and remember you bagged a genius wife who can fix a gearbox AND a broken heart.

Oscar: i do every single day

Chris: She really did all that? ...Remind me again why she married you?

Nicole: Christopher.

Oscar: no that’s fair actually

Mae: this is giving “he found her crying in the garden and offered her a leaf” romance energy

Edie: it’s giving “she’s the protagonist and he’s the golden retriever love interest”

Hattie: it’s giving “we are NEVER letting you mess this up”Oscar: i have no intention of ever messing this up but thank you for the terrifying support

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

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asxgard · 3 months ago

Note

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged

Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

#the pitt #jack abbott #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x you #the pitt x reader #asxgard writes

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thecoochiefairy · 3 months ago

Text

short n’ sweet. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.7K word count. blackfem!reader/original character, onyankopon, football player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, creaming, aggressive dirty talk, nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ guess who it is? yo’ favorite couple. now, lemme’ tell you. this is NOT the new fic, so look out for that in the next couple of days. this was just the nasty part of my mind wanting to put pen to paper—and i might’ve seen this video that reminded me of ole’ girl and ony real bad. so i suggest watching before reading ;) it’s nasty. sorry? kinda? not really. okay, bye.

𝓐ᥫ᭡:: your baby’s birthday is full of surprises.

visual.

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE HADN’T BEEN YOUR ONLY CHOICE. From Bratz, to Hello Kitty, the possibilities of a six month olds birthday party shouldn’t have been so complex—that was, if you weren’t dealing with your black ass family.

Driving from New Orleans to Mississippi wasn’t the issue. It was planning this party, having to take it three hours from your hometown, packing your children up for their first road trip, and making sure everything was set in stone by the time you arrived.

To top things off, you didn’t…feel well.

Once again, this was all the doing of your mother in law. You loved her, but her desires of doing everything to her perfection could be—suffocating.

It was an exciting time—your baby girl was turning six months old, and the entire family freaked out as if this weren’t you and Onyankopon’s second baby. You could appreciate everyone’s desire to celebrate—aunts, uncles, Onyankopon even had a couple of his teammates coming.

The idea of planning this whole thing was supposed to be fun. But it became less fun when you had the realization that you weren’t the one in charge. Onyankopon tried his best to tame his mother, but there wasn’t much he could do when she had her mind made up.

So you did what you always did—gave a smile, and tried not to fuss as much as you wanted to.

Strike one. You’d bought everything you wanted for your baby girl’s party to give Strawberry Shortcake down to her outfit—however, after already going over budget, you found out that your mother in law had gotten decorations professionally made, and she decided that your decorations were too “Boring.”

Strike two was when she decided to ship everything to your house and not hers, meaning that not only were you overflowing the car, but you had to pack your own stuff, your husbands, and two babies into Onyankopon’s G—Wagon.

Strike three—your breast ached from having to feed Sage within this three hour drive, you had the worst cramps on the planet—and you learned that Salem could become carsick. You stopped two times, having to change his clothes, hold him while holding Sage, and keep him from vomiting all over the seats.

When you finally made it to your mother in laws—all you wanted was a nap. Onyankopon had offered to take the kids downstairs as you slept, but Sage could be what you called a velcro baby—she’d lose her everlasting shit if you weren’t within arms reach.

You were tired, irritated, and sore more than usual. But you weren’t gonna cry.

It all led up to the day of your baby girl’s birthday—the morning was a little more chaotic than you hoped for, current focus along feeding Sage, while your mother in law ran rapidly around the house.

“Where are the cupcake toppers? Did you move them?”

Your eyes flick up to her, standing in a pale pink and red apron, looking like a mentally insane pastry chef.

Your voice is soft as you say, “Ony put everything in the garage like you asked him to, momma.”

She doesn’t waste a beat to rush out of the kitchen, leaving the scent of buttercream behind. You turn your attention down to Sage, the baby smacking her lips against your nipple as she continues to suckle.

You can’t even properly greet your husband as he enters the kitchen—not to mention, he was doing a great job of avoiding your irritation and his mother’s wrath. He’d camouflage into the wall if he could.

“Lil’ mama already lookin’ for yo’ titty this early?”

You release a soft breath, “I’m really thinkin’ about taking her off my nipple—put her on the bottle for good.”

Your eyes then narrow a bit, “And where have you been? Yo’ momma in here’ about to lose her mind because you moved the cupcake toppers.”

“That’s how you greet yo’ man? Don’t start trippin’ on me, girl. Forreal’.”

He pecks a kiss on your lips, leaning down to do the same with his baby’s forehead. Your irritation might’ve soothed a bit.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just—as little sleepy, is all. Good morning,” you pull him in for another soft peck on the lips, “Where’s Say-Say? Still sleep?”

“Yeah—lil’ nigga tried to swing on me earlier cause I told him to hand over that pacifier. But he ‘sleep—climbed his bad ass in Sage’s pack-n-play. The real question is—how you doin’?“

You can’t even answer the question. Onyankopon’s mother comes back into the kitchen as she questions, “Onyankopon—did you move the cake toppers? I told you not to touch them!”

Onyankopon raises an eyebrow, “And have you cuss’ me out? Hell nah’ I ain’t touch ‘em. They’ been in the garage since we got here.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hear me mention the attic, and that’s where you put them?”

The sound of opening and shutting doors echoes into the kitchen as she frantically pulls at the cabinets.

“Are you sure you ain’t lose em’?”

“I have a great memory!” she huffs, “If I can’t find them—the cupcakes are gonna be dull—they don’t look a lick of Strawberry Shortcake!—And y’all just sitting there, watching me freak out!”

She gives you no time to defend yourself, stomping out of the kitchen as she cusses. Your jaw is clenched a bit, turning back towards Onyankopon as you raise an eyebrow, “You wanna know how I’m doing? Forreal’? ‘Cause that might cause an argument.”

His eyes narrow, "C’mon, bro. Don’t start. You know how my momma be’."

“I ain’t even say nothing, Ony. You keep reminding me how yo’ momma acts—but you ain’t saying nothing to her.”

Your voice is a little sharp, pulling yourself back as Onyankopon tries to grab for Sage, “Stop—You know she’s gonna start crying.”

"If you 'bout to start somethin', can you do it after the party?" He takes note of your attitude, his voice more stern than usual, “We came all the way out here for lil’ mama—I ain’t about to let y’all make a scene.”

“I’m literally more calm than I should be,” you deadpan, “How you finna’ check me about my attitude but not yo’ momma? Your priorities are in the wrong place right now.”

Onyankopon smacks his lips, “I ain’t realized there was a manual on how to react when yo’ wife actin’ salty, and yo’ momma in the next room ‘bout to pop a blood vessel.”

“What you’ want me to do, Ony? How should I act?” You question, placing Sage against your shoulder, gently patting her back, even in the midst of your irritation.

“Just chill. I ain’t tryna’ click out on you and my momma.”

Onyankopon’s gaze is serious, not backing down despite your glare, “I’m so serious.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sorry that me being irritated with the fact that we drove three hours—well, let’s wrap it up to five since Salem was car sick— not to mention that I was extremely uncomfortable since we had no room in the backseat with all the extra decorations your mom decided to buy when I already bought some! I’m running off twelve hours of sleep in the past two days, and somehow your momma still thinks I’m not doing enough. My fault—let me chill.”

Sage burps, babbling as she wraps her mouth along the end of your shoulder. Your arms are sore at this point. You sigh, “Take her,” as you lean your baby girl into his arms.

Sage continues babbling, wrapping her toothless gums on the end of your husbands t-shirt, rubbing her face into his chest.

“Aight,” He nods, hearing the frustration in your voice, “I’m sorry. You’ right.”

You don’t mean to be snappy—You don’t want to be. You hate when you get like this, another exhale blowing from your lips as you’re holding that urge to cry. God, your period was definitely coming. Not only are you emotional, but even being upset with your husband, you wanna be as close to him as possible. And—were you a little horny?

You rub the muscular bicep of his tattooed arm, “You mind getting her dressed while I take a quick nap?”

He nods, “Of course. I was gon’ do that anyways.”

He takes Sage onto his shoulder, “I’ll come wake you up so you got time to get ready—just focus on sleeping, aight? I’m ‘bout to get Say-Say dressed and go help my momma with these cupcakes before dressing Sage.”

You reach for his ear, rubbing affectionately as you hum, “You’re so sweet, Daddy. Thank you.”

Onyankopon’s serious gaze eases, a smirk growing on his face.

“Aight—you know ain’t no callin’ me that if you ain’t gon’ do all the rest,” He shakes your grip from his ear, pressing a kiss on your palm.

“C’mon, ‘fore you get me worked up.”

You roll your eyes, giggling softly as you begin making your way back upstairs—but you can’t help but listen to Onyankopon talking to your daughter—as he always did.

“Don’t worry, baby. All of us gon’ be back in NOLA soon, and yo’ momma gon’ be back to herself—You gon’ get to see aunties, uncles— whatchu think? A whole lotta Strawberry Shortcake, huh? What a life you’ blessed with, pretty mama…”

Getting some type of rest definitely puts you in a better headspace, and the true realization that you were celebrating your baby’s birthday couldn’t have made you any happier. Sage’s Strawberry Shortcake Party was in full swing.

Sweets and desserts scattered across the plaid picnic table for guests to choose from. Everyone was here—family, Onyankopon’s players, even you and your mother in law were now getting along—everyone was in adoration of your baby, the celebration being better than you expected it to ever be.

Your dress matched Sage’s strawberry covered bonnet, oversized along her dark curls, her dress fluffing out from its poofy frill. The sight had you snapping a thousand pictures— however, you’re a bit distracted.

You’d redone Onyankopon’s braids for him the night before, the olive green shirt he wears clinging to his muscular frame, complimenting his brown skin that mixes with all of his tattoos. It’s something about how much of a southern man he really was—being in between New Orleans and Mississippi—he’s sporting jeans, a hefty belt shining under the natural light coming into the house, cowboy boots heavy on his feet with each step. Facial hair, face tats, it all pulls together with the print hung under his belt that he can’t seem to tuck.

God.

But you’re no better—the mini halter dress you wear molds around your full hips and ass, lace trimming along the end of the pale pink material. Your matching woven sandals show off the French tip of your toes, dark curls framing around your curvy figure.

The sight of your husband—it’s becoming a problem. Your heart swells as you hold Salem in your arms, the tune of Happy Birthday echoing to your baby girl, Onyankopon holding her up towards the cake, allowing her to tear the dessert apart piece by piece. She’s giggling, and to see Onyankopon so soft with your daughter that you created together—it made you love him even more.

Back to the point of him being a problem— now, he’s being touchy.

Salem’s a bit more independent now, running around the yard with his cousins as he screams out in excitement. You have the perfect view of your family enjoying the celebration that your mother in law put so much time and effort into—you couldn’t help but thank her, despite your differences.

Back to the point again, Onyankopon being a problem. His fingers become hooked along the waist of your dress, his face pressed in the crook of your neck as he kisses on your skin, gently nipping and licking.

You knew your husband to be affectionate, so to him, this was just showing you love in a way that he felt was innocent. But with each kiss, each compliment, your clit throbbed.

Maybe he noticed. Maybe he didn’t.

The party was now close to ending—Sage and Salem being taken upstairs to bed, leaving the rest of the adults downstairs, drinking and catching up with each other. You leaned yourself against his shoulder as he talked to his teammates, lightly padding your fingers against his lower back in the softest way. Your palms travel, finding the warmth of his ear—you start rubbing there.

Onyankopon can always sense your change in temperature. Your hands wander aimlessly on his body at this point, still giving no reaction to your touch as he occasionally takes a long swig from the bottle of beer in his hand.

You’re looking at him— his legs spread against the chair, boots flat along the ground, bulge prominent as he continuously attempts to adjust himself. Your mind won’t stop fantasizing, and you can imagine yourself just—

Dishes. You needed to do the dishes.

The moment you say your goodbyes to everyone, you’re quiet as you wash off the ceramic plates into the sink. You can hear Onyankopon throwing things in the trash behind you, a sigh parting from your lips as you ask, “That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

His palms slide up from behind, his arms enveloping your body as his hands gently rub circles along your stomach. Your body is pressed against his, warm and needy—but, was this the right time to speak up?

“My baby had a big day,” He says, his voice a low hum.

“I just wish she would be able to remember times like these, you know? She was so giggly and excited to smash her cake, and her outfit was adorable—those are times we’ll never get back with her. I’ll think about them a lot,” you softly smile, leaning yourself back against your husband's chest.

“She gon’ know how much we loved her,” He kisses on the side of your neck, “We do got’ a few more times like this before Salem hits three, so don’t beat yo’self up too much, aight? Our family is perfect.”

You press your lips together at that. Turning your head to face him, your brown eyes pool into his sight, hand reaching for his facial hair, scratching your fingers into the coils of it.

“Thank you for holding me together today. I was a little frustrated earlier—but everything turned out better than I ever thought it would. I was good, wasn’t I?”

“It’s nothing you gotta thank me for, baby. We do this as a team, aight? You was’ good, even when you had every reason to be upset. You my lil’ team player, forreal’.”

That makes you smile.

“You’ my big team player,” you softly giggle.

“I know that. C’mere.”

His hand cups the back of your head, locking your lips into a kiss, full lips overlapping yours. It removes the lip combo you wear, tongue deepening itself in your mouth.

“Yo’ ass was good today, Mama.”

You’re always ready to accept his kisses, but sometimes—between you and yourself—you couldn’t handle Onyankopon when he got like this. Not to mention that your body felt overly sensitive in the moment, so just from a kiss, you were trembling.

You’re shy within your giggle as you breathlessly muse, “T—Thank you, baby.”

“You already know I’m gon’ thank you some more in ‘bout two minutes. Take yo’ ass upstairs.”

Onyankopon was always a man of his word. Here you were now—body shuddering from his tongue previously nose deep in your pussy, heart rate pounding in your ears as you straddled your smaller frame atop of his. You loved riding him—but you loved seeing his face more, rather than facing the opposite way as you were now. On the other hand, Onyankopon loved this position just as much as seeing your pretty face— his eyes continuously traced over the ink tattooed along your back, the dark pink complimenting your caramel skin.

You whimper to him, “Wanna see you, Ony.”

His tip is already being engulfed by the pretty pink of your folds, puffy as they’re stretched by the girth of him.

Onyankopon takes a handful of your hair, giving it a tug—your body quivers the minute you feel his other palm smack your ass, “Yo’ shit too muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama. Lemme’ enjoy you like this.”

Your lashes brush against your freckled cheeks as you slowly lower your hips, every inch of him being sucked in by your pussy, the back of your thighs meeting his abdomen as you go down. The curls of your hair drape along your figure with the sway of your body dipping, your lips parting a bit, shakily gasping in the softest way.

Leaning yourself against his legs, your teeth lightly tug at your lower lip as you rock down, finding a rhythm within the angle, skin creating the tiniest clapping echo against his dick. You part a whimper from your lips.

“Goddamn, Mama—Who you doin’ allat for?”

A hand makes its way over the front of you, rubbing the middle of your stomach to feel your body shift. His touch has you arching, your soft cry of pleasure deafening to your own ears as your ass bounces on his hips. You never sounded like this so early.

“Ion’ know who you was tryna’ play,” Onyankopon grunts out—you’re like a pendulum, putting him in a trance with the way you wine your body. But that never stopped his mouth.

“A nigga gon’ know if you need him as soon as you walk inna’ room—allat’ attitude, touchin’ on me—That’s how you know a nigga love yo’ ass. You love me, huh?”

“Love you,” your voice is still soft, whimpering as you hold your ass in your own palms, spanking yourself, “Love you, Ony…”

Every time he mentions the word love, even indirectly—you’re like a puppy, willing to agree to anything that comes from his mouth. That’s how it’s always been.

“You a good lil’ bitch,” he grunts, “Keep fuckin’ me.”

His clasp at the end of your curls has your eyes rolling, your mouth pouting as he tugs you down to meet the sticky heat of your pussy becoming wetter. His palm lowers itself, gripping your ass, finding a hold there—you’re dropping, dropping, you’re groaning in the prettiest way, “Ughn, O—Ony…”

“Keep singin’, baby. Keep throwin’ that shit.”

His desire for you grew with each child, with each touch, with each word. But he would still give you the world.

Onyankopon always gave you an immense amount of pleasure—but when he wanted to reward you—god, you were lucky you weren’t a mental patient.

The positions are always dominated by him, now having you bent at the edge of the bed, body arched to perfection, legs tucked underneath his to keep you still. His fingers always find a hold of your hair, locking you in place as he’s sliding his tip up and down against your folds—slow, aching.

Your face is hidden beneath the sheets, palm finding a collection of the comforter beneath your fingers. Your pussy spreads as his tip sinks in—Onyankopon grounding his hips, allowing the weight of his dick to fill you in all one thrust.

Your mouth drops, “Damn, baby…”

It’s almost torturous—his tip goes from kissing at your folds, to the air within your chest leaving as you’re full in a milliseconds, dick curving into your walls, reaching for your cervix that eats a delicious pinch from his strokes. Again and again, the room fills with a sweet lullaby of the slaps his hips make against your ass. Each thrust is accompanied by a satisfying whine from your mouth.

“This them’ good girl strokes,” he grunts, stroking through his words, “Good ass fuckin’ girl.”

For the sake of your mother in law and children, you press your mouth into the sheets, eyes rolling as your whimpers muffle through the material—but Onyankopon could be the worst sometimes.

His favorite place to grasp—your curls, his fingers collect anything he can get his hands on, using it to drop you down in the slowest he’s ever given you a thrust, his balls rubbing against your clit, dick nearly reaching for your windpipe—he’s deep, deeper than he’s ever been before.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” his voice is dark, “Imma’ keep you here. Let you feel this big ass dick.”

“Fuckkk.”

Your eyes roll as you gasp—your pussy was’ stuffed.

“Can’t f—feel you no more,” you whimper, trying to pull yourself together through the pleasurable tears that begin to collect in your eyes. You tremble, your mouth quivering a sob, “I’m too wet, baby. Oh my g—god…”

You don’t even realize you’re cumming—squirting for that matter—only able to hear the splat, splat of your arousal gushing in between your skin colliding together. Your thighs are trembling, the vibration traveling up to your throat as you groan.

“Don’t be fuckin’ lyin’ to me—you feel my shit.”

His fingers tightened around your curls, forcing you back onto his dick after a swift jerk, making your head tilt backwards for your throat to be exposed, your lower body going numb as he fucks you into an oblivious space.

He’s close, sliding his soaked tip out to see your cum glistening down the dick, to putting you back on him—again, again, again.

You’re brain is so fried, you begin bouncing yourself back on his dick, cumming, continuously cumming—you’re whining as you turn your head back towards him, “Dick so fuckin’ big, Daddy. Just taking your pussy. Just. Take…me….”

You’re talking through the strokes you provide for yourself, you’re drooling, almost in a bimbo like state. He always took you there.

Onyankopon’s body looms over yours as he finds a place of your throat to hold, pulling your face back to watch you. The sounds you made were identical to an angel crying, prettier than ever before. His dick finds the last crevice of space left inside you—his tip resting in between your cervix, “Make a mess on this bitch. Make. A. Fuckin’. Mess,” he emphasizes his words through every. Single. Thrust.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkk.”

It happens—you scream—Onyankopon moans as you squeeze around him, pulling himself out as he cums—but he’s more worried about you. He replaces his dick with his fingers, chaotically rubbing at your clit, fingers becoming drenched as you squirt again.

His hand holds you in place as you cry, legs trembling, having one of the most intense orgasms you’d had with him. There’s more tears in your eyes, your head knocking into the sheets, hiding your flushed face as you hadn’t expected your own reaction.

His voice grumbled into the shell of your ear, “There you go, baby. You did that shit for me. Did all that shit for me, huh?”

You only have to let out a shaky exhale in response to his words, too exhausted to argue otherwise.

That’s when you both hear a knock— it startles you so bad that your entire body jolts, Onyankopon cradling you beneath his hold protectively. His voice is low as he responds, “Yeah, momma. What you’ need?”

“I heard screaming—is everything alright?

You hide your face into his arm.

Onyankopon deepens his face into your neck, chuckling before he replies, “Yeah. She—uh, saw a big ass spider. We’ good.”

“Oh—I just wanted to check. Anyways , this baby lookin’ for yo’ wife’s nipple.“

You sigh, barely able to respond, nearly halfway asleep in the seconds they conversed with each other. Your voice is soft as you reply, “I’m comin’, momma—Just give lil’ mama her binky until then.”

The silence that fills the room confirms that she left, a quiet, soft laugh coming off Onyankopon’s lips.

“You know she ain’t stupid—she finna’ get my ass, lawd.”

“No,” you cover your reddened face with his arm, “That’s so embarrassing. God, please go get Sage so I don’t have to face that conversation.”

“You heard how bad my ass was lyin’?”

He continues chuckling, the rumble of it hitting your back as you huff, “Ony.”

“Aight, aight,” He laughs, “Let me clean up ‘fore I head up there.“

The heat of the moment begins to fade away as your sobriety washes over you. The moment he goes to leave—you stop him. Turning to face him, you wrap your arms around Onyankopon’s neck as you pucker your lips out for a kiss, “I love you. You love me?”

“With my life, shawty,” He leans forward, pressing his lips into yours for a quick peck that you’ve been seeking.

“You sure?”

You didn’t mean to have the question sound worrisome, but your voice was a little—hesitant. You were hesitant.

“Baby. That’s never gon’ change. What’s going on?” he frowns, “Why’ you feelin’ like this?”

Remember all the times you said you weren’t gonna cry today?

Too late for that.

Your hands quickly cover your face as you feel your body trembling— you softly sob, hiding your cries within your palms as you release all the emotions you’d been holding for the past couple of days.

“Aye—What’s goin’ on, baby? Hey,” he takes your face into the palms of his large hand, “You can cry, forreal’, but what got you feelin’ like this? Why’ you think I wouldn’t love you? Talk to me.”

Your tears run down your face, cheeks as red as your baby girls as you continue to cry. Your voice shakes as you whimper, “You’re gonna be upset with me…”

“Aight, aight, just—,” he shakes his head, cupping your face into his hands more as he tries to figure out what to say.

“—You know I can’t stand seeing you cry. I ain’t never gon’ be mad at you for that—just talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry for being mean to you, baby. I just—I love you so much—and you told me that you wanted a big family—but we just had lil’ mama, and you’re about to get back on the field again—“

“Mama,” he cuts off, “Slow down. What you’ tryna say?—Are you pregnant again?”

“…I just—I wanted to try a new birth control because the IUD was giving me issues—and I forgot to take my pills—you probably don’t even want another baby.”

You’re crying even harder now, pressing your face into his chest.

“You—“

He sighs, not even attempting to mask his irritation, “You think I’d be upset that you’ pregnant again?”

His tone is low, “I don’t care if you get pregnant with ten of my kids. You my fuckin’ wife. We’ll have a whole muhfuckin’ football team if that’s what god blessed us with. I love you. That ain’t gon’ change.”

That makes your heart swell. You press your forehead to his, a tearful giggle falling from your lips.

“I didn’t mean to start crying,” you softly say, taking a deep breath as your fingers wrap around his necklace, “My period was supposed to be a week ago, but when I realized it was late—I thought I was being dramatic thinking I was pregnant again, so I didn’t even tell you—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be talkin’ nonsense,” He mutters, “I told you when we first started this family that the number didn’t matter to me—As long as you happy.”

“I’m more than happy,” you say, pressing your lips back into his, “I love you and our babies so much.”

Onyankopon’s smile grows into a smirk, “I got a bunch of kids runnin’ around here anyway, Salem ‘bout two in one—I’m ready when you ready, baby.”

That makes more tears pour from your eyes. You tighten your arms around his neck as you softly cry, “I love you so much, Onyankopon.”

“I love you more, baby. Ain’t that why yo’ lil’ ass cryin’?” He chuckles, gently patting and rubbing on your back, “You gon’ be a mess if you keep goin’ like this. I’m finna’ go tell my momma—MOMMA!”

You giggle as he takes off—and at this point, you’re not entirely sure why you’re still crying. You’re just sensitive, okay?

You’re sobbing, but you’re so happy. You had no idea how lucky you truly were to have this man. Your heart flutters as you try to stop your tears, but the love for your family is making it difficult. The love for him made it all the more worse.

That was never gonna change.

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