#and then also there was that one time they got put in a bubble of time consuming itself in perpetual war that could only be taken away from

[iamthatonefangirl]

bucky w insecure reader where they get all insecure during sex and he praises the shittt out of them please and thank youu

also can i be 🕷️ anon please? ☺️

(i love ur fics btw)

insecure - nsfw bucky barnes

oh I love this bc I am a soft insecure sap. also this is longer than I anticipated.

~~~

he laid you down so gently, keeping an arm around your waist and a hand behind your head as though afraid he might break you. he held you close, your bodies pressed softly together.

he hovered above you, carefully watching your facial expressions, acting intentionally with every movement he made. he thought about every little thing: how much weight to put on you without crushing you, how tight to hold you without hurting you, and most of all, how badly he wanted to worship you like the goddess you were.

you smiled at him, a little nervous, but mostly hopeful as you brought your hands from his shoulders to the back of his head. you gently tugged at his hair, feeling how soft it was under your fingers, just like you'd always imagined it would be.

he slowly leaned in to kiss you once more, still holding a hand behind your head even while you were now laid against the pillow. perhaps it was just a protective instinct, his need to keep you within his grasp and not let you go.

you nodded, and he pressed his lips to yours once more. it was so different than anything else, the feeling of you below him, all splayed out and vulnerable for him.

he kissed you softly, slowly, the way he imagined he would once he got you into his bed. he planned to pull out all the stops, treat you with nothing but the utmost care and respect that he had for you. he wanted to take you apart one piece at a time and watch the look on your face as he did.

he took his time, sensing the tension in your body slowly ease, feeling every time you would pull him a little closer. he wanted you good and ready for him, eager for him.

you couldn't help the little noises bubbling up in your throat, letting them out with your mouths still pressed together. it made his heart beat faster, his hands hold you a little bit tighter.

he took it as a sign to keep going, moving his hand from around your back to rest at your side, slowly thumbing at the hem of your shirt.

you tensed and pulled back, avoiding eye contact, looking over to the lamp.

"can we turn that off?" you asked, indicating to the light on the nightstand.

he watched your face again, frowning at the thought of it. he was ecstatic to finally have you, have the chance to pleasure you, and he wanted to see every part of you while he did.

"why, baby?" he whispered, trying to understand.

you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. you didn't know what to say.

when you don't respond, he takes it upon himself to continue.

"can I see you? please?"

you shake your head immediately.

"you don't want to see me, Buck," you respond, chuckling anxiously, all while still avoiding eye contact.

he sees your hesitance, and his heart breaks. he opens his mouth, trying to find the words, but none come. it takes him a few beats before he continues,

"nothing will change the way I feel about you. how much I want you," he reassures, and you finally meet his eyeline once more. he looks into your eyes for a minute before requesting for the second time, "can I see you?"

you fight back your reluctance and nod your head.

if he hates what he sees, your heart will break. but at least you're prepared for it.

he takes his hand from under your head and brings it down to your side, both hands gripping the hem of your shirt. as he begins to pull it over your head, you bite your tongue and hold your breath.

but you refuse to close your eyes. you have to see his reaction, you have to be able to see the look on his face. you have to.

you take a hesitant breath once he tosses your shirt off the side of the bed, noticing the way he looks you up and down. you wait for his face to fall.

it doesn't.

"fuck," he growls, "let me touch you. please, baby, I might die if you say no," he admits, and he's never sounded so...

"please," he repeats, voice hoarse, looking up into your eyes. all you see in him is pure desperation and want.

"yes," you whisper, and his hands are on you, touching your skin, holding your waist. he brings his mouth to your chest, running his tongue over your collarbone, and he's fucking whimpering.

it's the hottest he's ever looked.

his fingers roam over the plush of your stomach, attempting to touch every part of you as his lips come to where your breasts are exposed above your bra. you gasp sharply when he nips at you, and your legs press together unconsciously.

"I didn't think I could want you any more than I already do," he tells you, barely pulling his face away from your skin. you feel his nose on your flesh, the movement of his lips against you as he continues, "you're so perfect. so perfect, doll. goddamn," he curses, and he feels his entire body jittering from his need for you.

"let me take off your bra, baby, please. I'll do anything, just let me see you," he asks, looking up at you, resting his cheek against you.

you look at his face, the puppy dog eyes he's flashing you, and you nod your head 'yes.'

he leans back to carefully draw the straps down your arms before bringing his mouth to your neck. he begins to suck a mark into your skin while his hands reach underneath you to undo the clasp.

you let out a cry when you feel his lips wrap around your nipple.

god, he feels like heaven.

he moves away to look at you, and your automatic instinct is to cross your arms over your chest.

"baby, no," he whines, putting his hands on your arms and gently moving them away so he can see you. "I think you know you're so pretty and that's why you're trying to hide from me," he teases you.

"no, Buck, I'm really not," you try, but he's not having it.

"you are the prettiest, you hear me? can't even believe you're letting me see you like this, touch you like this. it's a fucking honor," he says, bringing his mouth back to your skin, making you moan out into the quiet room.

you bite your lip and try to muffle your noises, but he goads you on. "come on, my pretty girl, you can do it. can you make those little noises for me, yeah? yeah. I know you can, cause you're such a good girl," he coos, planting his lips on you again.

his words make heat pool in your stomach, your thighs clenching tighter, punctuated by a broken whine from high in your throat.

this time, he feels the movement.

"you feeling like you need something, pretty girl?" he asks, now thumbing at the hem of your pants. "I want you to tell me. I want you to tell me what you want."

you pause. you want so badly to feel his fingers, his mouth, whatever he wants to give you. but you're still apprehensive.

"I want you to be comfortable with me. I want you to trust me," he tells you firmly, looking into your eyes. "if you don't want this, I want to know that, too."

"I do," you murmur, but the knot in your stomach hasn't gone away.

you wish it would. you wish you could be carefree, and sexy, the kind of girl he should be with. the kind of girl that's in his league.

your breathing starts to quicken as you start to get in your head again.

this is a bad idea. you need to put your clothes on and leave. this is a bad fucking idea.

"baby, what's wrong? talk to me," he encourages, bringing a hand to your cheek to direct your gaze back to him.

"Buck, I-"

"I want you more than anything. but if you don't want this, just tell me," he pleads.

"of course I want you," you tell him honestly, the knot moving to your throat, your eyes getting warmer. "but-"

"there is no ‘but’. you're what I want. what you want is what I want," he admits, "so let me give you what you want."

the knot tightens, but regardless, the words come out before you can stop them.

"I want you to think I'm pretty," you whisper.

he smiles at you and looks at you in awe. you are the most perfect, most gorgeous thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"I have never found anyone as beautiful as I find you. please, let me show you."

you see the sincerity in his eyes, hear the authenticity in his tone.

you crack a broken smile. you believe him.

"I want you so badly," you whisper.

he nods fervently and pulls you in, kissing you so softly you have no choice but to believe every word he’s saying to you.

you let him lay you back down, and this time, you don't hesitate when he moves to take off your pants.

"my girl. you gonna let me make you my girl? let me prove how badly I want you?" he asks, hands trailing up and down your thighs.

"yes, Buck," you respond, telling yourself to shake your nerves and let yourself have this with him.

"spread your legs for me," he whispers. you will your muscles to make the adjustment, and he doesn't give you the chance to get in your head about it. he moves quickly, pressing his tongue over the fabric of your underwear, already soaked through. you react loudly, your moans filling his ears, encouraging him.

he doesn't wait another second before yanking the damn things off. he wraps his hands around your thighs and closes them around his head, pressed up against his ears, and mouths at you with determination.

all your thoughts finally pause, the knot in your throat dissipating as you feel the urgency with which he nudges at your clit, dipping his tongue inside you to finally taste you.

he's imagined this moment forever. being able to put his mouth on you, to make you feel so blissful. that's all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

you feel so uninhibited when you thread your fingers in his hair and grind your hips up against him. you whine and whine because you just can't help it, and he knows he's harder than he's ever been, straining against his pants and rutting against the bed. he wants you to do as you please, to feel comfortable letting go and giving into your desires.

your whines get higher out of nowhere, and he doubles down on running his tongue over your clit, and fuck you're *so* done for.

you're coming before you can stop it, all over his face.

was that good for him? was I too fast?

when you look down at him, he doesn't look at you. his face is soaked, and he's leaning back, unwrapping your legs from around him.

he finally looks up at your face, his cheeks pinked up.

"that was..." terrible? horrible? "...absolutely amazing, I, uh..."

he leans back some more, bringing a hand to palm at himself, and you see it.

and you fucking celebrate.

he came in his pants, untouched.

"fuck, I'm sorry," he chuckles, embarrassed, crawling over you again. "you're just so goddamn sexy, you know that?"

every thought is out the window. you grab him and yank him down to kiss you, hurriedly grabbing at his clothes.

"that's so hot," you say between kisses, "take your fucking clothes off, please-"

he does as you ask pretty quickly, his clothes gone in an instant. the thought of you being so excited to see him naked gets him worked up again quickly.

"yeah? you like that?" he asks you. "you like knowing what you do to me?" he smiles.

you smile back at him. "oh yeah, I do."

"you're perfect. stunning. so good for me," he says, spreading your thighs for him once more. "already so hard for you, again."

"I'm ready, Buck, please," you tell him.

"when I take you for the first time, I want you to say my name. my real name," he says quietly.

"James," you all but purr, and his eyes roll back in his head.

"just like that, you sound so good, my girl," he murmurs. "you ready?"

you nod.

and then he's pressing inside you, and it's everything.

"you're so tight," he groans. "you feel so fucking good, baby. you're taking me so well."

his voice sounds so broken, like it's gone up an octave.

"you're my pretty girl, you know that?" he says, giving an experimental thrust, and you reach for his ass, trying to pull him in again. it makes him groan, and he does, pushing even deeper in this time.

"my good girl. you look so perfect under me. I want to be the only one who gets to see you like this."

you nod. of course he is.

"I trust you, James, fuck, I think I love you," you blurt out, shocking yourself.

he lets out a noise like no other.

"I love you, baby, fuck. I love you too," he tells you. "you're perfect, you know that? and I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love every goddamn piece of you."

~~~

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Satin

Part 1

MDNI!!

A/N: Wow the long awaited part two to Velveteen. I had to basically put a gun to my head to finish this :') I rewrote this way too many times, I'm not entirely pleased with the finished product but I WROTE THE THING!! And that will always be a victory in my book. I have yet to see Thunderbolts* because I have absolutely no time to go to the movies but!! When I do see it, get ready babes, I will be unstoppable. UM anyway, thanks to @ethanhoewke as always for being insane with me and helping me flesh this out, ily babe. Bucky Barnes x female reader, morning after, morning sex, oral sex (fem receiving), developing relationship, fluff & smut, Bucky recovering from being the WS, two dumbass cutie pies being horny or whatever <3

ALSO!!! If anyone wants to blow up my inbox with some Bucky requests, please do! I love writing for this 100 year old emotionally repressed fossil <3

Word count: 4.2k

Too bright. Way too fucking bright. The golden morning sunshine is searing through your blinds, drawing a whine of protest from your throat. It’s too early, that much is clear to you. Far too early to be awake. You almost want to hiss at the sun like a cartoon vampire being awoken from an eternal slumber. Shifting in the bed, trying to get your wits about you, two things become abundantly clear to you. One, you’re sore. Like, really fucking sore, like you got hit by a small bus or thrown through a brick wall. Two, there is without a doubt a man in bed next to you. Your foot brushes across a sleep-warm, hairy calf under the sheets. You can’t bear to open your eyes, opting to keep them screwed shut against the sun’s laser-like light and the fact that Bucky definitely stayed the night. 

With a deep breath, you peek one eye open, turning your head to the side. Your eye lands on Bucky, face down on a fluffy pink pillow, snoring like a goddamn chainsaw. His stupidly handsome face is squished into the cotton, brow furrowed like he’s personally affronted by your choice in bedding. One of his arms is thrown haphazardly across your middle and— holy fuck, his arms are fucking huge. Were they that big and beefy last night?! Surely, you’d remember biceps that fucking large. Your eyes hungrily rove over the tan, scarred flesh. God, he’s delicious, you’d sink your teeth into the fat and muscle right now if it wasn’t going to wake the poor man up. 

Trying oh so carefully to wiggle free from Bucky’s heavy, comforting weight, you reach blindly for your phone. Hand rooting and tapping uselessly along your side table, knocking just about every other item over in the process before your fingertips finally find purchase on it. You swipe it off the table, holding it up and squinting as you read the time. Half past eight, okay, that’s not too early. However, you choose the wrong time to squirm again. Bucky grunts in his sleep, his arm binding tighter around your waist and all but dragging you into his side. 

A surprised squeak bubbles past your lips, you tense up, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe. Who knew he was such a cuddle bug? So, you allow yourself to melt into it a little, because you honestly can’t recall the last time someone held you like this (not to mention after a night of ravenous fucking…)

Your phone, now lying on the mattress next to your hip, buzzes. You snatch it up quickly, hoping that it didn't stir the man next to you. You’re not ready for this impromptu cuddle session to be cut short. 

Girl are you dead?

Oh my god, we’re gonna be on Dateline! Talking about how great of a friend she was and I’ll have to cry on camera and wail about how she didn’t deserve this!! She was too young!!

Your friends are nothing if not dramatic and incessantly nosy. You love them though, like scruffy dogs you pick up from the pound that nobody else really wanted because they honestly seem kind of feral. With one hand, you quickly type out a reply, rolling your eyes at the theatrics of your group of gremlins. Your other hand, because you just can’t help yourself, absentmindedly cards through Bucky’s unfairly thick and soft hair. 

I’m not dead and I wouldn’t want you in my Dateline episode anyway, bitch.

The replies come immediately, in rapid succession, absolutely blowing up the group chat.

Holy fuck!! She lives!!

How did the date go? Did you finally dust those cobwebs out of your pussy? Or rather, did he? 

That’s a horrific visual, though you have to give Faye points for creativity. You’re not even entirely sure how to respond to that, because yes it had been awhile, but it hadn’t been that long. Words are failing you in this moment honestly, so you resort to the most damning option of all. With a trembling hand, you hold your phone a few scant inches above Bucky’s clueless, sleep-slack face. The photo is avant-garde level art. They should hang this shit up in the Louvre or paste it on billboards across the country. The Hello Kitty pillowcase, the strong line of Bucky’s nose buried in the fabric. The way his dark lashes create little spiderweb shadows on his usually so serious, broody face. He’s an angel, plain and simple. Cast down from the heavens to torture you and fuck you better, deeper than any of your ex-boyfriends did. Before you can second guess yourself, you send the photo to the group chat, shoving it under your pillow before you can see the immediate replies.

Buzz…buzz…buzz…

Your canine digs into your lower lip, biting back an exasperated smile. Your friends are, and always have been, veritably insane. You shouldn’t have told them about the date, or the fact that said date is still in your bed, in your apartment. You should have just turned your phone off, allowing yourself to sink into this syrupy, lazy little bubble of perfection. You could get used to having this man in your bed. Absolutely.

Your phone continues its angry vibrating like a little pissed off bumblebee beneath your head. So, you let out a long suffering sigh and check the 9+ notifications awaiting you.

HELLO???

Oh my god, I want to lick that cheekbone. Do I have a cheekbone fetish guys? This is awakening something in me.

Wait a fucking minute!!! Dude, that’s the Winter Soldier. 

Okay, that certainly catches your attention, because no he isn’t…is he? Wide eyes flick between your phone screen and Bucky’s peaceful face with the speed of a caffeinated hummingbird. What did the Winter Soldier even look like? It’s vague and fuzzy in your mind like TV static. You wrack your brain, desperately trying to recall what dominated the news cycle for weeks in 2014. Captain America, Natasha Romanoff, lots of explosions and property damage… A quick google search confirms your friend’s suspicions or rather accusations. There is without a doubt an ex-sleeper agent in your bed, you fucked an ex-sleeper agent. Were you in danger? Oh god, all you had on hand was one of those cheap cans of pepper spray. The only reason you’d really bought it was because it’s sparkly and also you wanted the illusion of self-defense. What the fuck was pepper spray going to do against an assassin? He’d probably sneeze at best and then rip you apart like a rotisserie chicken.

Before you can spiral into a full blown panic attack, complete with hyperventilating and popping an Ativan or two, Bucky groans sleepily, rousing. You freeze, eyes comically wide, lips parting like a child caught with their hand in a proverbial cookie jar. But the fear, the sense of self-preservation, the whole seconds away from shitting your bed, dissipates. It melts away like tissue paper in hot water, because his eyes open and they land on you. They remind you of the sea glass you used to collect as a girl, when your parents would whisk you off to the beach and you’d carry a little bucket around and feed the seagulls corn chips even though your mother explicitly instructed you not to.  His eyes sharpen just for a moment, your anxiety spikes, you hold your breath. And then, oh god, his gaze softens and you can’t help but feel utterly besotted by the very sight.

“Did I do that to you?” Bucky murmurs, sounding absolutely delicious and raspy and gravely. You try to reshape your brain back from the goo his eyes turned it into. He’s asking you a question and you’re sitting there smiling at him like a dope. He taps the side of his neck to emphasize the query, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

Your hand immediately flies up to mirror where his rests, brushing the pads of your fingers lightly down the side of your throat. You can’t bear to break his intense gaze, it feels like divorce, but then you wince because fucking ow! You spring out of bed, stumbling to the vanity, no longer concerned about appearing graceful or effortlessly pretty first thing in the morning. 

“Oh shit,” You breathe, staring at your reflection. You look ran through, like you got passed around a frat party or something within that vein of debauchery. Mascara and that winged eyeliner you were so proud of smeared and running down your cheeks, your neck, your tits absolutely covered in a variety of hickeys, bitemarks, bruises. You look like a demented racoon who got mauled by a particularly aggressive grizzly bear. Time to lock yourself in your bathroom and do some major recon.

Ten or so minutes later, you reappear with minty-fresh teeth and a clean face. A sheepish smile spreads across your lips as you resume your seat next to Bucky, “Uh, yeah, I think you did do that to me.” You quip awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes, far too interested in fiddling with a loose thread on your fitted sheet. “I mean, obviously I liked it.” You can’t help but glance up quickly, heat burning your cheeks.

“Right,” Bucky snorts, smirking roguishly, and god you swear your pussy has butterflies. “I remember.”

“Hungry!” You blurt out, springing off the mattress, far too shy and idiotic to even attempt to carry on that particular route of conversation. “Are you hungry? I am definitely hungry! We should eat! In the kitchen.”

You attempt to smile, but it feels all wrong on your face, crooked and stilted by your own mortification at your lack of social graces. You don’t need to see the way your entire body is turning a rather unflattering shade of pink from the tips of your ears, down your chest-- you can feel it and it only worsens the matter. Bucky just huffs in amusement, a man of few words outside of rearranging your guts it seems, “Sure, doll. I’ll meet you out there.”

You all but sprint to the kitchen, eager to remove yourself from the situation before you further embarrass yourself. Thank fuck you cleaned your apartment before your date, the usual state its in would warrant entering the witness protection program if Bucky saw it. Unfortunately, you hadn’t anticipated preparing a full breakfast spread, so you find the bare bones of your pantry. Cup of noodles, a brown banana (unclear to you if it’s really ripe or hazardous), and whole milk that’s one day out from being past its expiration date. Wonderful.

“What’s for breakfast?” Bucky's voice comes from behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, the way he snuck up on you could have very well sent you to an early grave. Definitely was an efficient assassin, you’ll give him that.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure…” You mumble, back to Bucky, acting as if you’re perusing an entire treasure trove of options. “Do you like noodles and milk?” You ask tentatively, peeking at him over your shoulder.

He blinks, seemingly unsure if you’re joking around, and if you aren’t, he has no clue how to respond.

“What type of noodles?” He asks after a moment, crossing his thick arms, leaning back against the kitchen island.

“The cup kind,” You mutter, glaring a hole into the tile.

“I’m sorry?” Buck huffs, tilting his head to the side like an adorably confused puppy, a puppy who’s had over two dozen confirmed kills.

“Um,” You lick your lips, your mouth feeling suddenly bone dry, an explanation sticking to the roof of your mouth like bubblegum, “You know, cup of noodles? It’s like, a styrofoam cup and there’s ramen in it with seasoning. You put hot water in it… the, uh, packaging actually says not to microwave it, but who listens to that anyw--”

Your lame little rambling is cut off by the gentle pressure of Bucky’s lips slotting against yours, his large hands cupping your face, holding you like you’re the most precious, delicate thing in the world. You melt, your train of thought fizzling out into goo, so you press up onto your tiptoes, eagerly returning the kiss. Bucky starts to move away, but you spring forward, chasing his lips, whining like the needy little thing you are. 

He chuckles, lips barely brushing yours, murmuring, “So you have noodles in a cup?”

“Cup of noodles,” You correct breathlessly, pupils blown wide as saucers after taking that mainline of pure Bucky.

“Tomatoe, tomato,” He snorts, slowly sweeping the pad  of his thumb down the bridge of your nose, “Are we having anything else with these noodles? A plate of broth, maybe?”

“Uh, no, just almost sour milk and if you’re really feeling brave, a very brown banana.” You’re silently planning your suicide note, because why of all the times your fridge had to be empty, it’s when Bucky is here after a night of insane sex. Sex that quite frankly, rewired your brain and probably ruined any chance of another man coming close to what Bucky made you feel.

“A very filling spread,” Bucky hums dryly, cracking a small grin. You can’t help but smile in return, your heart doing a funny little flutter. This man is going to give you a heart murmur. 

“Well, I mean, if you’re not busy…” you start, looking anywhere but at him, wringing your hands together shyly, “We could go get breakfast?”

Bucky watches you silently, thinking over your suggestion. “A second date already? Wow, you move fast.” He drawls lazily.

Your face is on fire as you desperately start to back track, “Oh! Um, I mean, you don’t have to! You can leave! I won’t hold you hostage or force you to get breakfast with me. I just thought maybe it would be better than risking it with the banana.”

Buck chuckles, stepping forward, entering your personal space. He still smells like smoke and cinnamon even after a night in your ultra-femme sheets. The rough pad of his finger slips under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. His eyes are the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced, guarded yet so expressive at the same time. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, doll. Relax.” He whispers, voice silky and deep. There’s a moment, it’s so brief, so fleeting, you almost don’t catch it. The walls lower for a heartbeat, and Bucky asks so achingly soft, “Was… last night good for you?”

You can’t help but freeze, because is he seriously asking you that? Bucky interprets your silence as a bad thing, his face falling subtly, he shifts on his feet, taking a step backwards that feels like a mile. 

“No! No, I had an amazing time last night. You were amazing,” You blurt out, hands shooting up to gesture wildly. 

Bucky’s relief is a tangible thing, his shoulders lowering, the crease in his brow smoothing out. “Oh, good. I’m glad, I don’t…” he clears his throat, running his vibranium hand through his cropped hair, “I don’t usually do this.” He admits, gesturing vaguely around your apartment, “The whole sex on the first date, spending the night thing.”

The butterflies in your stomach break out into a spontaneous synchronized swimming routine. And you can feel your blood rush to your cheeks and then lower, much lower. It’s flattering, the way he confesses that he doesn’t do this and apparently you’re an exception to his vintage dating etiquette. Though, you’re almost certain there definitely would be a rule in there about not leaving your partner looking like they got mauled by an angry vacuum cleaner.

Not that you’re complaining…

So, you laugh nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I hope I didn’t make you feel pressured or anything.”

Bucky snorts— the man actually snorts, at that statement, as if it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in a long time. “A little thing like you? Pressuring me? Nah, doll, I liked it. I like you.”

Liquid sunshine spreads through your veins and you nod dumbly along with what he’s saying, “Oh, right. You, um, like me, huh?”

He steps into your space, the heat of his body seeping into yours as he gently runs a finger along the curve of your spine, “Yes, I like you. More than I probably should.” He affirms, that exploratory hand coming to rest just above the swell of your ass. It slides down, he squeezes the fat and flesh gently, as if testing the weight of it in his vibranium palm. 

“What a coincidence,” you squeak, all the finesse and coyness from the night before evaporating into the atmosphere, leaving behind your usual awkward self, “I happen to like you too. Not sure about the more than I should part. That makes it sound like I’m in danger…oh god, I’m not in danger, am I?”

Bucky silences you with a searing kiss, his criminally soft lips slotting against yours, rubbing deliciously, pulling a high pitched whine from your throat. The hand on your ass squeezes hard, grounding you, ripping you from your inward spiral. Bucky backs you up against the kitchen counter and with a strength only a super soldier could muster, he sweeps you up, depositing you to sit on the edge of the island. Your thighs part, making space for him to stand between them, and your arms loop around his neck. You deepen the kiss, arching into the hard plane of his chest, fingers threading and tugging at his hair. He groans, low and unbearably sexy, into your mouth, strong arms wrapping around your waist like a python. 

His tongue expertly delves into your mouth, tracing the sharp edges of your teeth, tasting the sleep-sweet saliva welling up beneath your tongue. Emboldened, you wrap your lips around his tongue, sucking the slick muscle, earning another delicious grunt from Bucky. His arms bind around your waist tighter, till you feel like you might pop, splattering the kitchen in one thousand shades of red. There’s barely a breath of space between your bodies, the two of you slotting together like long lost puzzle pieces, reunited at long last. It’s heaven, it’s hell, the kiss is enough, you could cum just like this. Happily, easily, and that’s more than you can say about any other man you’ve been with. 

Bucky breaks the kiss and you whine, feeling as if you might burst into tears if he stops touching you. He shushes you, sinking slowly to his knees on the kitchen tile, peering up at you through dark lashes. Hands gently pull you to the edge of the counter, as he sits back on his haunches. Bucky takes your left foot, holding it in his organic hand as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, placing a worshipful kiss to the inside of your ankle. Kiss after kiss is trailed up the length of your calf, the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble create a juxtaposition of sensations that send goosebumps erupting across your body, fine hairs standing to attention. When Bucky reaches the inside of your knee, his tongue flicks out, tickling the sensitive flesh. You tense up, instincts screaming to wriggle away from the feeling, but Bucky holds you steady. He doesn’t kiss the start of your thigh, opting to just drag his stubble across the smooth skin, back and forth. His teeth nip playfully as he gets closer and closer to the center of your body. Each snap of teeth immediately remedied by a soothing brush of lips. Your cunt flutters, you can feel your heartbeat in your clit, throbbing insistently. Begging for friction, for penetration, for something to ease the molten ache rapidly growing between your legs.

When Bucky reaches the apex of your thighs, he doesn’t move your sleep shorts to the side, not yet. He leans forward, pressing his face into the fabric, into the flesh, and inhales deeply. An obscene, drawn out sniff, and he moans at the salty, musky scent of arousal that greets his nostrils. His fingers dig into your spread thighs, massaging, marking. He kisses your cunt over your shorts, over your underwear. And then, with no further warning or preamble, he rips the fabric off. Cotton falls in tatters to the floor, leaving you bare and flushed to his gaze.

You realize faintly that it’s definitely brighter in your apartment now and neither of you are tipsy, so you should feel at the very least a bit self conscious about Bucky being eye level with your bare cunt but he drags the tip of his nose from the inside of your knee up, up, up to the crevice where your thigh and labia meet. Every coherent thought flies out the window; he licks maddeningly slow, just shy of firm from hole to clit. Your hands scramble to grasp the edge of the counter, hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, fuck!” You curse, throwing your head back, dragging your ass to the edge of the counter, so close to falling off. You’re shaking like a leaf in a storm, Bucky’s mouth is cruel and heavenly in equal measure, finding your clit easily. He sucks the swollen bud into his mouth like a piece of hard candy.

And you decide if Bucky remains a fixture in your life, you will absolutely be tossing out your beloved vibrator. You won’t need it anymore now that you have unrestricted access to Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s dick…but you’ll still hang onto her for now because if last night and this morning are a two-time thing, you’ll need that pink hunk of plastic to get off to the memory of this perfect moment for the foreseeable future. 

Bucky moans into the folds of your pussy, eating you out ravenously, like he’ll die if he doesn’t make you cum on his tongue at least thrice. His hands grip your thighs harder, spreading you wider, opening you up to him like a delicate flower. You can’t hold yourself up, not in these conditions, so you lie back on the kitchen island. You spread as wide as you can, giving yourself over fully to Bucky’s mouth. 

“Please,” you breathe out, screwing your eyes shut, your entire body pulled taut like a bowstring, “Oh god, please.”

You don’t know what you’re begging for, or what god you’re calling on, all you know is the heat and the suction of his mouth. It’s embarrassing, how easily Bucky manipulates your body, how close he’s bringing you to the precipice after only a few minutes. But fuck, if it doesn’t feel good, the pleasure vastly outweighs the embarrassment. In fact, it feels so mind-numbingly good, you swear your brain is melting and leaking out your ears. Then, Bucky’s tongue swipes, a perfect arc right over where you want him, need him most. You tense up as if you’ve been electrocuted, moaning brokenly.

“Oh my god, right there,” you wheeze, borderline hyperventilating, “Please, just like that. Don’t stop, please.”

Bucky doubles down, his ferocity turning into a beast, and you worry you might just die from this. You clench around nothing, squirming weakly, chasing that ever elusive peak. The warmth turns into a fever pitch, you gasp and whimper, bucking into his mouth, simultaneously wanting to escape and to arch into him. When Bucky’s tongue curls into your cunt, the striking line of his nose digging into your clit, your mouth falls open. You tense up, hardly able to move or breathe. 

Your orgasm spreads through you like a wave, from the hair follicles on your scalp, down to your curling toes. Your spine arches clean off the counter, hips bucking wildly, legs clamping around Bucky’s head. You pant, gasping for air, twitching amidst the aftershocks as Bucky tongue fucks you through every ripple. Only when you’re limp, boneless, brain dead, does he rise to his feet. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, unashamedly licking his lips and moaning at the taste of your orgasm. If you weren’t absolutely winded, you would’ve had the good sense to blush at the display. 

He rubs your thighs soothingly, up and down, silently watching as you come back to this plane of reality. He reaches down, helping you slowly sit up, smoothing your wild hair down, and kisses your forehead, “Breakfast?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“Huh?” You mumble, blinking up at him, confused and too fucked out to follow the current track of the conversation. 

“I’m not eating a noodle cup, come on,” Bucky nudges you gently, helping you back down to the floor, “I think there’s a diner a few miles down from here. It’ll be our second date, like you said.”

With shaky legs, you wobble to your bedroom, “It’s cup of noodles.” You mutter under your breath, smiling softly. 

And when you’re on the back of Bucky’s bike, face smushed into the leather of his jacket, when you’re sitting across from him in the diner, laughing so hard chocolate milk shoots out of your nostrils…he may have once been the Winter Soldier, he may have killed at least two dozen people, but now? He’s holding your face in his hands like you’re the center of his universe. He’s paying for the bill like a gentleman. And when he drops you off back home, he pulls his dog tags off, guiding them over your head, giving them to you, claiming it’s so you have to call him back. He’s just Bucky, he’s your Bucky, plain and simple.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent life photos

[frameconfessions]

I hope the protoframes remain relevant even after this story arc for the Drifter concludes, but I also recognize how complicated things would get with how many characters they could keep trying to make stay relevant, leading to a Konoha 13 Naruto type situation where we have too many relevant characters from Umbra & Ordis all the way to Kaya Velasco.

.

[the-physicality]

congratulations to the referees i guess....

connecticut is the only one i want winning anything else so good luck against the minnesota whistle i really hope you can make it happen

[quietwingsinthesky]

you ask even how old they are and they reply with zero hint of irony whether you mean when they were born, how old their body is, or how many years they’ve been alive.

[multishipper-baby]

Also random OTP thought of the night. Because I have to sleep but I'm thinking of them.

[mieltelecheycrema]

confession done that was so easy (covered in sweat and took two days)

[kkusuka]

i would love to be john price's (141's) little bird.

(afab reader, you're lowkey a housewife, g/n pronouns, this was also a lot longer than i meant it to be-1.2k words- and i also wrote it entirely in class)

part 2

just the cute little thing he comes home to after long missions; ready to give him anything he needs to fully enjoy his time at home. barefoot and wide-eyed waiting for your bear of a husband to return from his long hard mission, keeping him fed and fucked as much as he needs. and he just loves you so much-- so much that he needs to show everyone how good you are for him.

it's not like he sets out to rub it in, but when his sergeant mentions not having anyone waiting for him at home-- john just can’t help but invite him over, you always talk about how much you love taking care of him, adding another man shouldn't be a problem! and what kind of captain would he be if he didn't take care of his subordinates?

and you aren't complaining! you love when john lets you see into his job! and gaz is just so sweet, saying please and thank you, offering to help clean the dishes, and politely refusing any leftovers even when you all know he has no food to go back to. so, you just have to keep inviting him over, night after night. and he's so good at conversations, even when he and your husband talk with all their military jargon, he makes sure you understand all of it; you just want to keep him in your house forever! so you kind of do…

you can't imagine making him go all the way home to his cold and dark apartment, it's so far and you know he's tired from his month of constant action-- so suddenly kyle has a bedroom set up right next to yours (close enough to hear how john thanks you for being so good to his sergeant, and just maybe a hand goes down below his waistband) a fully stocked bathroom and a place to put his shoes when you all come back your occasion dinners out. (they're dates, you don't think it but they do)

but kyle is not a man so stay silent about his blessings. you're too nice, too pretty to not tell soap about-- and trust john isn't going to complain, and he knows that you won’t either. 'the best roast i think i've ever had' and 'knows exactly how to make a man feel at home' and soap is not one to stray from his desires.

so you end up with your boys, and a bubbling scotsman in your dinning room with no warning. and you're upset, no one told you that you had to make more food and now there isn't enough to give everyone your usual heaping portion- and there is no way you're letting anyone go hungry in your home!

so you end up bouncing around the kitchen, trying to whip something up before the main course finishes in the oven and who but soap offers to help you out! he's got a hand on you at all times (two on your waist when you're chopping the onion, he just wouldn't know what to do with himself if you got hurt making him dinner. so he has to hold you steady, he has to run his hands over your hips keep you stabilized-- don't think too much into it, just stay focused on chopping bonnie)

and soap knows that he can talk for hours, but he can't help it when your eyes light up when he mentions his childhood in scotland and his missions around the world. and your small flinch and frown when he talks about getting hurt. their lass just can't help but worry about them. he just can't stay away from his captains sweet bird-- not when you send him off with a steaming pile of leftovers and a tight hug (pressed against him as hard as you can because you don’t want him to go)

johnny, a man to brag, never shuts up about how it took kyle three months to get a room but it only took him two. (sometimes when he comes back from the bathroom in the morning he can see into your room as you're getting ready. and he doesn't mean to do it but your panties are his favorite shade of blue and they look so amazing on you-- he wants to see them up close so bad.)

and so he tells ghost of all his troubles- unasked and randomly the next time they got sent out. and does ghost really care about johnny's playground crush on their captains bird? yes. how had he been left the only one not getting home cooked meals after being sent out? is he going to say anything about it?

not a chance.

so it takes a little while before the final place at your dinner table to be filled. but after a particularly grueling mission (and already wishing to come over), ghost is finally convinced he belongs with the rest of his team.

and you've never been happier to make extra food; you've been hearing for months about the illusive fourth man of your husband's battalion but having him stand in your kitchen with a cute little store bought dessert was certainly worth the wait. ( 'Ah didnae ken ye liked pink that much, lt' 'it was all they 'ad, can't show up empty 'anded, johnny')

and is he a little awkward and standoffish, of course-- years of military pressure will do that to a man!

and simon is just too sweet, even if he doesn't know it. he's pulling your chair out for you, and running out in the rain to collect the mail that you'd forgotten all about. he even lets you drag him to the grocery store during your weekly trips. (it's not dragging, he'd follow you into the pits of hell if you'd asked him too so the grocery store is really not a big deal.)

everything is just so perfect when all of your the boys are all in the house together!

and suddenly everything in life makes sense again. that plate that you can never reach on the highest shelf in the kitchen, a body is pressed against you as simon leans over you to grab it leaving you with a squeeze to your hip and red face. the gossip that your husband just never understood in the way he should is studently being told to kyle over coffee every morning as your other boys roll out of bed. the soap opera that you rope johnny into watching every thursday night becomes facemasks and wine time.

and john just loves it. he just loves you so much; loves the way you smile at kyles flirting, loves how you cuddle up to johnny on the couch, loves how you let simon hold you so close when you make his tea in the morning, and he just loves teasing you about it. (teasing? yes. making you face the fact that you want your husbands men to run a train on you like a whore. also yes.)

i wanna keep going but i have to let it end at some point

[op1umeyes]

imagine ur bd being out of the picture and your little girl running up to si ☹️🤍

   “Daddy!”

   Simon looked down, eyes wide at the little girl wrapped around his right leg. Johnny eyed him carefully. He was thankful none of the other café patrons paid any mind. “I’m not your daddy, love,” Simon said. He tugged his leg away gently but the strength of a child is hard to match.

     “Annalise, get off that man,” a woman cried. In the blink of an eye, she knelt near Simon’s leg and tugged the child away.

     “Dada!” She shrieked. Annalise’s chubby hands reached out for Simon’s. “Is dada, mama!”

     You shook your head. “I- I’m so sorry, sir. Her dad was in the military. Anna thinks everyone in fatigues is dada… Do you want me to get either of you a coffee to pay you back? I’m truly sorry.”

     Soap discreetly elbowed Simon harshly in the side. “‘M quite alrigh’ lass. Simon, here, would take a coffee if your serious. If you’ll excuse me, I got to go. Bye, little lassie,” the Scot rushed, face lightinf up at the way Annalise giggled as his parting.

     Annalise was still cooing and reaching for Simon. You just shifted her on your hip and rubbed her back. “Simon, yeah?”

     “That’s me, ma’am,” Simon nodded, feeling suddenly extremely exposed without the balaclava he had decided not to wear for one single occasion. “You don’t have to pay me back-“

     “Nonsense. I would feel like a bad person if I just let my kid latch herself onto your left and call you dad and then just swoop her up and leave,” you said, reaching for your wallet before walking over to the ordering counter. “What can I get you?”

     Simon ordered a small of his usual, watching you pull the money from your wallet without glancing at how much it costed. He observed you in that split second- a beautiful baby girl on your hip who thought any man in camo was her dad. So he had been in the service… Simon watched you smile kindly at the teen behind the counter who fumbled for your change. You murmured a quiet, “It’s quite alright, take your time.” A well-mannered, well put-together individual who was also very attractive. Simon knew what Johnny was doing when he left and Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought you were a catch.

     “I seriously appreciate the coffee, ma’am, but it was unnecessary,” Simon said as you tucked your change back and waited for the drink. “As long as the kid’s alrigh’, I don’t need anything in return.”

     You smiled. You smiled at Simon and he swore his cold heart jumped in his chest. Clearly your bright smile disarmed Annalise as much as Simon because she let out a bubbly laugh and put her hands on your cheek. “What if I said I wanted to?” You asked coyly.

     Simon watched Annalise play with a baby hair near your face. “Then I’d say it’d be a cruel thing to tell a gorgeous woman no.”

[pucksandpower]

Drunk in Love

Max Verstappen x fiancée!Reader

Summary: in which Max gets drunk, forgets that the two of you are literally engaged, confesses his love for you, and then gets reminded that his ring is on your finger … in that order

Based on this request

The lights from Jimmy’z spill out onto the sidewalk, a dizzying kaleidoscope of reds, purples, and blues. You stand just outside, arms crossed, as your phone buzzes for the third time in five minutes. It’s Daniel this time.

“Hey,” he says, voice just slightly too cheerful to be innocent. “So, uh, Max is-”

“I’m already here.”

“Oh, perfect. He’s …” Daniel hesitates, and you can practically see him scratching the back of his neck. “He’s just a little … spirited tonight.”

Spirited. That’s one way to put it.

You hang up before he can add anything else and glance toward the club entrance. Max stumbles out a few seconds later, propped up by Lando, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Max’s head lolls to the side, and when he spots you, his entire face lights up like you’ve just walked out of a movie.

“Hey!” He yells, voice loud enough to make a couple passing tourists glance over. “It’s you!”

You sigh, stepping forward to take him off Lando’s hands. “Thanks,” you mutter to the younger driver, who just grins.

“Good luck,” Lando says, clapping you on the shoulder before disappearing back into the club.

Max leans heavily on you, his arm slung over your shoulders. “You came for me,” he says, slurring slightly. “You’re like an angel. My angel.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, guiding him toward the car. “Let’s get you home, Max.”

He stops abruptly, digging his heels into the pavement. “No, wait.”

You look up at him, exasperated. “What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait until we’re in the car?”

“No!” He insists, voice rising. “It’s important.”

You glance around, feeling the curious stares of a few people lingering nearby. “Okay, fine. What is it?”

Max wobbles slightly, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes are glassy but serious as he looks at you. “I’m in love with you.”

You blink. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats, louder this time. Then, almost conspiratorially, he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Like, really love you. You’re … you’re perfect.”

“Max …” You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

“No, listen!” He says, pulling back to look at you. “You don’t understand. I’ve been in love with you for … forever. But I didn’t know how to say it, and now it’s too late, because you probably think I’m some idiot who-”

“Max,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. “We’re engaged.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“We’re engaged,” you repeat, holding up your left hand where the ring glints under the streetlights.

Max stares at it like he’s never seen it before. “No way.”

“Yes, way.”

His face splits into a grin so wide it’s almost childlike. “No. Way.”

“Yes, Max. We’re literally engaged. Have been for months.”

He takes your hand in his, squinting at the ring. “Holy shit. That’s a nice ring.”

You snort despite yourself. “You picked it.”

“I did?” He looks genuinely astonished.

“Yes, you did. And you cried when I said yes, remember?”

“I cried?”

“Like a baby.”

He lets out a delighted laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and bubbles all the way up. “I’m a genius,” he declares, throwing his arms in the air. “I got you to say yes!”

“Yes, Maxie. You did.”

He pulls you into a hug, nearly knocking you off balance. “I’m so lucky,” he mumbles into your hair. “Like, stupid lucky.”

“You’re also stupid drunk,” you point out, but there’s no bite to your words.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes wide and earnest. “Do you love me?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Of course I love you, you idiot.”

He beams at you, his happiness so pure it’s almost contagious. “Good. That’s good. Because I’m going to marry you.”

“Yes, Max. You are.”

“And I’m never going to mess it up.”

“Not if you keep calling me to pick you up from clubs at two in the morning.”

He looks horrified. “Wait, did I call you?”

“No,” you admit, “Daniel did.”

Max groans, burying his face in his hands. “That traitor.”

“Come on,” you say, tugging him toward the car. “Let’s get you home before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

As you help him into the passenger seat, he grabs your hand again, his grip surprisingly firm. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice softer now.

“I know,” you reply, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

He closes his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips. “I’m going to marry the hell out of you,” he murmurs as you buckle him in.

You shake your head, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You already are.”

And as you pull away from the curb, he’s still grinning like he’s just won the championship all over again.

[arminsumi]

Ahhh, student!Satoru, who's leaning into the palm of his hand, mouth concealed behind his pale hand, eyes stuck on you. And they've been stuck on you ever since he saw you first walk up the steps into Jujutsu Tech. Bright blue. Heart quivering. Fixed gaze.

He takes any excuse to be near you, even though he knows that you're annoyed by him — he's so cocky and full of himself. But don't you see that he's also just a lovesick boy? Look at the way he follows after you down the halls, long striding legs effortlessly meeting your quick pace.

You're just trying to get a cold soda from the vending machine after a long two hours of practicing martial arts with Satoru, Suguru and Shoko. And since Shoko promptly left with Suguru for a cigarette break, that left an overjoyed Satoru alone with you.

"Which flavor do you usually get?" he asks, grasping at any conversation starter he can think of. He just wants to talk to you, even if it's about something so dumb... even if it's while stood next to a vending machine.

"Uh, strawberry... it's my favorite."

He takes a mental note of that.

He's always trying to get your attention, even if he has to become a fool in order to earn a glance from you. Walking away, looking dumb, even his best friend shakes his head at him and tells him that he's way too downbad for a girl that doesn't even like him back.

But Satoru doesn't listen to anyone when they say that you don't like him back. He knows the chemistry is there, as awkward as it may be sometimes. He knows there's something connecting him and you, like an invisible thread.

He still brings you gifts on V-day. He still pesters you in class. He still shares one earbud with you on train rides. He still gets that accelerated heart beat when you so much as graze your hand over his while walking side-by-side.

So eagerly looking at your lips, Satoru pulls out lip balm and makes eye contact with you while applying it. He's always got chapped lips, he knows because someone made exactly 1 comment about it and now he's never forgotten to put a lip balm in his pocket.

"Whatchya starin' at my lips for? You wanna have a taste of strawberry?" he winks, puckering his kissable lips at you.

"Ough..." you cringe at him, "Satoru, it's no wonder you're single."

Okay, he has zero flirting skills. But he earns a smile out of you right then, so even if he's cringe, he's surely doing something right. Are the cogs turning in your head? Do you think he's cute? Do you want to kiss him should he lean into a kiss oh he's leaning into a kiss now aaand he nearly falls flat on his face, because you didn't notice that he was leaning in for a kiss and now he just has to play it off and look like a dumbass once again.

His feelings grow exponentially as the years pass.

You're always catching him staring and he doesn't even feel ashamed.

Though it's been on his mind all the time, it's not until after three years of knowing you that Satoru kisses you.

It happens one day during heavy rainfall. He runs to you with a grin, no umbrella, totally soaked, and like a bright-eyed bunny he bounces at your side.

He's unzipping his uniform jacket, hanging it over the two of you. The proximity has his heart thumping. Before he knows it, he's leaning down to kiss you, right there as the two of you are concealed from the world in your own little bubble — in reality, everyone knows that you two are liplocking under Satoru's jacket. Duh. His shoes click on the ground as he repositions himself, bending his knees and arching down to meet your lips, 'till his spine gets angry at him for falling for a short girl.

[kindlyfunkn]

i told my sister she should not cough so much when trying to throw up bc it can increase chances of aspiration, for more success she could start heaving from the stomach

"yeah well i dont know how to do that🙄"

what? heave? yse your abdominal muscles? are you fucking stupid?

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 1st. theodore — size kink, big dick.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | 2024.

summary: there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, hogwarts uni (obviously), big dick!theo, size difference, size kink ofc, fingering, PIV, dirty talk, slowish sex, put on your fantasy cap for this one bc it’s a little wild, also, anyone know any wheelchair providers?

How the hell did you end up here? How had a night meant for celebration, for laughter and drinks and the triumph of a Quidditch victory, lead to this—

Fevered kisses, teeth clashing—your breath catching in the dim, muted glow of Theodore Nott's dorm—spine pressed against his door as his lips attacked yours, moving to your neck with a hunger that had your knees weak. There was a party, still alive somewhere down the hall, warmth spilling into the corridors, the echo of cheers and laughter floating past—but it was all a distant memory now. All of it blurred, lost in the way Theo's hands roamed over your hips, tugging you closer like he was starved.

Oh, right—the rumours.

Rumours have always had a way of creeping into places they don't belong. A whisper here, a careless word there. Stupid little fires, barely a spark until someone fans the flames. You've seen it before—how a single rumour can grow, how it can warp a simple night into something bigger. Something chaotic.

And now, well, you're living it.

Curiosity was what pulled you into his orbit tonight, what sparked the embers that had been burning between you two for far too long. Because Pansy Parkinson—loud, exaggerative, and far-too-tipsy—couldn't resist spilling some gossip mid-party, something about Daphne, something about Theodore and nine goddamn inches.

You know, the usual Quidditch post-match talk.

And it should have been nothing. It should have got lost in all the other Slytherin boy ramblings but instead, it stuck. Gods, it fucking stuck. Pansy's little comment sparked the fire in you, a fire that led to a conversation over drinks, your hand grazing his, and before you knew it, you were leaning into Theodore Nott at the punch bowl, asking questions you had no blasted right asking, yet went ahead and did anyways.

Something about...well—

"You've heard, then," he'd replied, voice low as those blue eyes watched you over the rim of his glass.

It wasn't a question. It was a challenge. For all the audacity you had—Theodore had just as much.

"I have," you leaned closer, your voice almost teasing as you whispered against the curve of his ear. "Big rumours, Teddy...huge, even."

He tensed, just slightly, the kind of reaction you noticed only because you were watching him so closely. You're pretty sure he wasn't expecting something like that to come out of your mouth—and you couldn't blame him, because truthfully, you weren't expecting it either.

That was, what you'd like to call, the point of no return.

There was a response from him. Something cocky enough—something like; "and do you make a habit of believing everything you hear?"

"Not everything," you said with a shrug, though your heart was in your fucking throat. "But I'm open to proof."

There weren't very many words exchanged after that—maybe some slight teasing—maybe another brush of his hand—but Theo was never a man to waste time, and it was clear that whatever curiosity you held for him had bubbled up now—heady and bold—and created a mess between you that couldn’t be contained.

The party, the victory, the cheers—it all became static as his hand slipped around your waist, his lips at your ear in a whisper. "Then let's put these rumours to rest."

You barely had the chance to nod before Theodore moved—grabbing your wrist and moving you through the crowd like you were something to be expedited, the sea of students parting before him. Pansy spotted you leaving, her eyes gleaming as she threw you a wicked smile and a drunken thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, smirking back, but everything else blurred into the background as Theodore led you out of the common room, and before you knew it, you were inside his dorm.

The door slammed shut behind you, the cold surface meeting your back before his lips found yours—urgent, consuming. His hands moved with purpose, sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head before you even realized what was happening. His own shirt followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor as he pressed his body against yours.

The memory blurred as the urgency of the present took over. You gasped at the feel of him, his entirety—hard, aching, massive. The outline of him was impossible to ignore, the mere suggestion of what was to come already making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

The rumours had seemed absurd at first, but now...now, they felt terrifyingly real. He was huge.

"Tell me," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your lips as his fingers worked deftly at removing your skirt. "About those rumours..."

Your head fell back against the door, exposing the line of your throat as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, hips working to fuse you with the door.

"I—I heard..." you tried to speak, but his mouth was on your neck, and the words tangled in your throat. "Gods—something about...nine inches..."

Theo hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, sending blood pooling low. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips hovering over yours, his breath hot and heavy as he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up—carrying you toward his bed.

"What else." He muttered against your mouth.

"Daphne..." you panted, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you. "She...she said she couldn't take it all..."

"And if I say that's true?" He rasped, laying you down onto his comforter. "What then?"

A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard—he sprawled over you, his body massive—engulfing yours, roving his hands up and down your bare thighs as his lips left wet, warm kisses across your breasts, teeth digging into the sheer fabric of your bra—you were gasping, whimpering under him, your chest rising and falling so rapidly you'd think you'd ran a marathon.

"Gods—that's...an odd question, Teddy..." your hips bucked, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he'd fit his thick fingers under the hem. "Are you...mm..asking if I can handle it?"

"Fucking soaked already," Theo peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. "Yes—I'm asking if you can handle it."

"Fuck—I don't—I don't know..." he dragged a slickened finger over your clit—you quivered, biting your lip until you found your words. "Only one way to find out."

"You're right," he breathed, swirling his finger, your body pulsing underneath him—every nerve within you roaring to life. "I'll be easy on you...I'll go slow..." his thumb took over, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. "Let's stretch you out first."

"I—" you began, and he plunged into you. "—fuck."

Theo crooked his fingers in your cunt, eyes focused on your flushing face, the flow of your moans, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. His thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, two long fingers filling you full. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you caught sight of his erection straining against his jeans—

"Tight little thing," he growled, head dipping low as he watched his fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. "I might fucking break you."

He jutted his erection against your thigh and you moaned, clenching around him. "Mm—Theo—"

His eyes followed yours toward his crotch—you couldn't help yourself, your fingers burned to feel him—to stroke him—to feel the weight of him in your hand. He nodded, and amidst your gasps and moans you reached for him, grasping at his zipper and undoing the button, tugging his jeans and boxers down his thighs—

Theo groaned and your mouth watered. Those rumours—Gods, those fucking rumours—

"Fucking hell—" you breathed, wrapping your fingers around his thick, heavy cock—he choked, digits pumping you deep—your thighs shook, your pulse in your throat. You tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes. "Theo—holy fuck.."

His lungs sputtered. "That enough proof for you, Bella?"

You nodded and he throbbed—twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, his breath uneven, tattered from the weight of lust—but so was yours.

You moaned. "Oh—Gods—I'm—"

Theo circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse, your orgasm charging toward you at light speed—his lips found yours, softly, muffling your moans.

"You're close, I can feel it..." he muttered against your mouth, fingers dragging at your walls, groaning as you clenched—as your free hand gripped his hair harder. "Cum on my fingers, Bella, go on..."

You shuddered and snapped—pleasure pulsating from your core and through your limbs, your orgasm lighting up your spine. In its intensity, you bit at his bottom lip while your cunt clamped down around his fingers, a feral energy coursing—the need for more—the need for every goddamn thing he was willing to give you eating away at your sanity—all coherent thought gone, only dissipating further as Theo pulled his fingers from your soaked cunt and sucked them clean with a growl.

"As fucking delicious as I'd imagined," he cooed, drifting his other hand up your thigh, fingers kneading the trembling flesh. You swallowed, lungs still working to find their rhythm. "I don't think you have any idea how long l've wanted this...any idea what you do to me..."

Gods—you almost wanted to laugh—this felt like a fever dream. You'd been friends for years, the fact it took this to get you both here was astonishing. His blue eyes peered down at you—wide and waiting.

"Look at you," you muttered, eyes dipping down to his throbbing dick, still twitching insistently in your hand. "I think I know exactly what I do to you."

Theo snuffed a groan in his throat, but his cock twitched again, despite himself—there was no preventing that.

"Cocky as ever," he whispered, lips curling in a teasing grin. "But now's not the time, principessa..."

"I can handle you," you breathed out, though a tremor in your voice hinted at the uncertainty you felt.

"We'll see." He said. "Lay on your side."

With a flush creeping up your neck, you complied, turning to face the window. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a silver sheen over the rippling surface of the Black Lake. Theo moved behind you, his body flush against yours, the slickness of sweat making your skin cling together—one arm slipped beneath your head, cradling it, while the other slid under your thigh, lifting it with a deliberate, practiced motion.

His dick slid against you, the girth daunting enough if not for the sheer fucking length of it—his body was massive behind yours, dwarfing you, a solid wall of heat at your back. You'd never felt so small, so fragile in a way that screamed breakable.

Theo teased your slit, covering himself in your juices—

"Just the tip, yeah?" He whispered, and fuck—you almost moaned. His voice was ruined. "For now."

"Theo—I—I think I can handle it..." you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. You wanted him to enjoy himself, too. "Just…fuck me, please.."

"Merlin help you..." Theo groaned and it almost sounded pitying—dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit before dipping lower, pressing against the folds of your greedy cunt— "you don't know what you're saying..."

His arm under your head curled inward, wrapping around your neck and holding you in place against him—his other hand guiding his length to your entrance and pressing in—shushing you softly as the first inch breached you and you cried out—as your mind blanked.

"Theo—" you gasped through the chokehold he had you in, his free hand holding your thigh up as it trembled. "That's—you're—fuck—"

He pulled out and rocked along you again, testing you, offering you centimeters of his length at time. Gooseflesh flooded you.

His lips pressed against your ear. "Shhh, you said you could handle me, yeah?"

His hand on your thigh shifted lower, resting on the crease. He rutted against you a few more times, dragging this out for everything it was worth until he brought the tip back to your entrance and pushed in—slowly, inexorably—spearing you open, splitting your cunt and prying you wide in a way that rid your breath.

You whimpered, hand scrambling for purchase on his hip behind you. "Ohhh—h-holy fuck.."

"Fucking hell...you're tight..." his arm around your neck tightened, holding you against him and he pressed in deeper. "That's barely half..."

You fought for air and found absolutely none, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs trembling, your mind fizzing with staticky pleasure. You felt as though you could break in two.

"Fuck," he drew out again, and pressed back in. "You can barely take it."

He was right. You could barely fucking take it. A revelation that you weren’t surprised by—but that made all the blood in your body pool low, walls fluttering around him in protest.

"Gods, Theo—T-theo—" you grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, eyes squeezed shut. "Wait—"

"Little more...you're doing so good, Bella..." he was cooing now, pressing kisses to your cheek. "I'll make it fit...we'll make it fit, won't we?"

You couldn't find a fucking modicum of sense to articulate a response. All you could do was feel—take and feel—the way he slid out, only to drive into you again, slowly, with a hiss of air through his teeth—drawing out loud, shameless groans from your chest.

"Mmm—breathe, Bella..." it was soft, soothing, like he was trying to coax you open with words. "Relax for me, yeah? Let me in...let me in..."

You obeyed without even thinking, pulling in shaky breaths, forcing your body to comply, even as your muscles screamed to stay tense—to fight the overwhelming fullness of him. You felt as though he couldn't possibly get deeper, but then he did, and he continued to until he bottomed out—his cockhead kissing your cervix, forcing a sound out of your chest that was more a sob than a moan.

Your eyes were shut so tight. "That's—"

"All of me," he interrupted, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and your whole body clenched in response. "Does it hurt?"

Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.

"A little—“ the words were a whimper, and your walls tightened around him instinctively, fighting to adjust, to accommodate the impossible size of him. “Gods—“

"Then why are you making it worse?" He hissed through his teeth, strain bleeding into his tone. You could hear the shift—wrecked, ruined, like he was barely holding onto himself. "Fuck, you're squeezing me...too tight...relax.."

He pulled out and thrust back in, harder this time, sucking in air through his teeth as he worked you wider with each plunge into your soaked cunt. Your body rebelled, clenching down around him again, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you, his hips snapping against yours in response.

"That's not going to make it easier, you know." His voice was a tight growl, but there was a grin in it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Keep that up and I'm going to leave you sore all day."

The thought made you clench again, your body betraying you as a broken apology fell from your lips—pain giving way to pleasure. "I'm—ohh—sorry-"

"Oh, you're going to be sorry." His pace quickened and you were seeing stars—bright and flashing and blurring your vision. "When you're spending all day in bed tomorrow...recovering..."

It only took seconds before he was grunting behind you—lost in your tight heat as he held you against him, hooking your thigh up toward your chest as his arm tightened around your neck, cock ramming your cunt—colliding with your cervix, pushing screams from your lungs. You couldn't think—couldn't catch your breath as he drove into you over and over.

"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Theo moaned, the sound of his cock slippery and lewd, broadcasting evidence of your arousal. Face on fire, you tossed your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, chewing your lip, rocking with the force of his strokes. “You like that—being filled like this...greedy little thing..."

You whinged; he was boring into your stomach, delight gushing through your veins. You had never been with a man this endowed, and this fucking ruthless. It made you throb, set you aflame, whirled your brain with desire. Words eluded you.

"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"

"I am," he groaned in your ear, the hand on your thigh shifting to your belly, palm pressing against your pelvis—he eased his pace, offering you deep, slow strokes, letting you spasm around every goddamn inch. "That's how deep I'm in you."

At that, you moaned, shamelessly. Cocky bastard he was. You knew now that he was more than entitled to it.

"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" His fingers slipped to your clit, slowly swirling over it—you didn't even have a second to process that question before the pleasure wracked you so hard you cried out, and he growled. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."

Somewhere in the blur, you registered his words—low, rough, pulling at the frayed edges of your sanity. Contraceptives. You were on them. It was the last rational thought you had left, buried deep under layers of heat and want. You knew you were fine, but the way he asked, in that voice—Gods—

His fingers increased their pace and you wailed. "Theo—holy f-fuck—yes—yes please!"

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt throbbed and milked his dick, your thighs twitching, and your back reached for the wall but his arm around you kept you in place, pleasure possessing your nerves. It seemed an eternity—he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, and then he shattered too—breath washing over the back of your neck, chest heaving and lungs sputtering as he spilled his release into you, deep and sticky and hot.

You were still floating between realms of sensation and reality—your mind struggling to tether itself back to consciousness when Theo finally pulled out, releasing you. Both of you were heaving, chests rising and falling in tandem, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

A moment passed, your breaths slowly steadying, when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you effortlessly against his chest. You shot him a weak, lopsided smile over your shoulder, still catching your breath.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice a quiet hum in the afterglow.

"More than," you nodded, though your body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure. A hollow ache replaced where he'd been, leaving you startlingly aware of how empty you felt without him. "That was...you are...

"I know," he purred, lips grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear, the smirk practically carved into his breath. You could feel his smugness radiating off him, a tangible thing. "Hope your curiosity was sated."

You let out a breathy laugh, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. "That, among other things."

"Good," he whispered, "I went easy on you."

You huffed, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Is that so?"

"Extremely so," he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip. "Took all the willpower I had."

"Sure," you teased. "You're just saying that because I took you so well."

He chuckled, low and sinful, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your spine.

"Oh, she's cocky," he drawled, lips brushing your shoulder. "We'll see about that after I put you in ten different positions."

Your heart stuttered, your muscles tensing at the sheer boldness of the statement. Heat pooled in your belly once more, that insatiable curiosity sparking again. You knew this night was far from over.

Perhaps a little more proof wouldn’t hurt...

You turned your head just slightly, voice breathy but wanting. "Please do."

[eufezco]

A PLACE FOR YELENA 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

bucky x pregnant!fem!reader

synopsis — after disappearing for weeks, consumed by her own darkness, yelena shows up in your house unexpectedly and decides to reach out to you and bucky, her best friends, just to find out that you're pregnant and you wanted her in your baby's life.

fluff. angst

marvel masterlist

you wiped your hands on a towel, the sweet scent of the coffee and cocoa still on your fingers. the kitchen smelled amazing, garlic and tomato from the bubbling lasagna in the oven mixing with the tiramisu you'd just finished layering. you'd been home all day, but not alone. the gentle kicks and soft stirring inside you reminded you that your tiny companion was always there with you. a little smile appeared in your lips as your hands moved to your bump.

bucky left early this morning, pressing a kiss to your forehead and another to your belly, promising he'd be back in time for dinner. so you'd spent all day doing this and that around the house, folding the tiny clothes, each one making you pause and imagine the little body that would soon fill it, playing bucky's old records and napping on the couch, a blanket over your legs and a hand resting protectively on your belly.

the timer on the oven beeped and you opened the door. a wave of the heat and the rich cheesy scent hit you all at one. you closed your eyes and hummed. the baby also seemed to loved because a soft kick nudged at your side. you pulled the lasagna out to take it to the living room table, but when you turned around, you froze.

—oh my god!—you exclaimed, eyes wide as your breath caught in your throat. your heart pounded so hard against your chest, —yelena... hi.

she quickly stood up from the chair, her usual confidence slipping as her blue eyes stared onto your belly. you didn't give her enough time to analyze you because once you placed the lasagna right in the center of the table, you wrapped your arms around her in a tight sudden hug. she hesitated before she hugged you back, like you were made of glass. her arms circled around you but she didn't dare to press her body against yours, like the roundness of your belly was sacred.

—you're pregnant, —she said when you broke away from the hug. her voice was soft, almost in disbelief.

you smiled, —yeah, i am. surprise, —the delicious smell of the food filled the space but yelena's eyes never left your bump.

—but like, so pregnant, oh my god.

you giggled, —that's usually how it works, yeah.

—no, seriously, how far along are you? you're glowing. it's weird. you're glowing and soft and... —she swallowed and waved her hands vaguely in front of your bump, —so pregnant, shit.

you let out a laugh. —i'm eight months but i'm still me. just... slower, rounder and slightly more emotional.

—more emotional? so crying over commercials and talking to plants?

—try crying over baby socks and talking to lasagna.

she nodded, pressing her lips together, trying to keep a straight face. you shifted your weight slightly as the pressure in your lower back appeared again. you put one of your hands behind you, trying to relieve the ache but yelena was quick to notice and without a word, she placed the chair she was previously sitting in behind you.

—thanks, —you said with a sigh as you sat. —what are you doing here? did you talk to bucky? he said he's been trying to reach you, —asking how'd she got into your house felt pointless. if yelena wanted in, no locked doors were going to stop her, yet you didn't mind, she wasn't a threat, not to you at least.

yelena shook her head. —haven't talk to your man in months. i was... just in my apartment and decided to drop by. i don't know, —she muttered, shrugging like it could erase the weight of her words. —i thought about you. about both of you. and i guess i just... showed up.

there was a pause. a real one. you knew what being in her apartment meant for her, especially at this time of the night. she was probably alone, thinking of getting drunk, staring at nothing and trying to hold it together until she couldn't anymore. you slowly nodded but didn't say anything about it. —well, it's your lucky day, there's lasagna for the four of us, —you rubbed your belly, —and the tiramisu is in the fridge.

she blinked, —oh, no. i was just... i just came to see you. i don't want to be a bother.

you tilted your head, —you broke into my house, sat at my table, and commented on my belly. you're already bothering me, you might as well stay for dinner.

you managed to get a laugh from her. in that moment, the front door opened and bucky stepped inside. —babe? i'm h... —but he froze mid-sentence when he saw yelena at the table. it was surprise in his face but there was something warmer too, like he'd just walked into something unexpected but not unwelcome. —either this food smells good enough to summon ghosts or i've officially lost track of who has a spare key.

—yelena's here! —you announced as if he hadn't just noticed her.

—and i bet she didn't come in through the door like a normal person.

yelena just pressed her lips into a guilty smile.

bucky approached you after hanging up his jacket and dropping his keys into the bowl by the door. he leaned in, supporting the weight of his body with a hand behind you on the chair and he kissed your lips. you hummed when he leaned in further and kissed your belly over your pajama shirt.

—you know? you should answer my calls or texts sometime, —he said to yelena. —missed you today, baby. this smells amazing, —he said to you as he kissed your lips one more time.

—i've been busy, —yelena said as she bit the inside of her cheeks.

bucky tilted his head slightly and looked at her, narrowing his eyes. he'd been there, done all of it before he met you. the quiet disappearing with empty explanations, not answering to sam's messages, letting voicemails pile up, just ignoring everything that reminded him that he existed outside the limits of his own perception. so yeah, bucky knew yelena was lying.

—right, —he just said. —just don't disappear.

—i didn't disappear. i just needed a minute.

—a minute's fine, —bucky said. he made his way into the kitchen and pulled out another plate, a glass, a fork and a knife. he returned and set them in front of the empty seat beside yelena. —but you vanish and we worry. she worries.

you nodded, assuring her that you did worry about her.

—i didn't mean to worry anyone.

—you don't have to mean it for it to happen.

yelena finally gave a small nod in return to bucky's words. he met her eyes and slowly nodded back. they were never much of words, the two of them. you had taught bucky how to open up overtime, he used to struggle with it but he got better with your help. but his bond with yelena grew from a very different space, his relationship wasn't shaped by long talks or heartfelt confessions. a strange brother-sister dynamic that was built in the shared silences, exchanged glances, sarcastic jokes and the unspoken comfort of just being there.

bucky stepped back into the kitchen.

—but the important thing, —you gently nudged her chair out, inviting her to sit at the table. —is that you are here now with us.

she finally sat down, her hands resting in her lap as she looked around the table. bucky came back from the kitchen, casually placing a bottle beside yelena's plate. it was her favorite spicy sauce, the one brand she always reached for. she stared at the bottle and then she looked up at you, then at bucky. this and your words you just said did something to her. it wasn't just the sauce, it was the fact that you'd thought of her and left space for her. no one had ever waited for her before, not like that.

—okay, let's eat, —you said, grabbing the big serving spoon. you grabbed yelena's plate, guests first, and served her a generous portion of lasagna. then you turned to bucky's plate and yours last.

yelena grabbed the sauce almost immediately, twisting off the cap and pouring it over her food. she hummed as she took another bite, eyes closing for a second. bucky slid his hand across the table and laced his metal fingers through yours, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

—how did that happen? —she pointed at your belly with her fork.

—you wanna know while we're having dinner? —bucky asked as he raised his eyebrows.

you kicked him softly under the table and yelena rolled her eyes, —no, not that. i mean, how? why now? you guys have been solid for years.

you glanced at bucky, who met your eyes with a little knowing smile, the kind that said, we've been through hell but made it out together. —well, it didn't feel terrifying to think about the future anymore.

bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his metal thumb drawing circles over your skin. yelena didn't say anything right away, she just looked at the two of you for a long moment, like she was trying to decide whether to make a joke or actually feel something. —i was not prepared for all this emotions with my lasagna, —she finally said.

—sorry. hormones, —you let out a breathy laugh.

—she cried over baby socks last week, —bucky said looking at yelena.

—they were so tiny, —you added defensively. —and pink.

yelena's eyes widened as she turned to bucky. she leaned back after finishing her food, folding her arms as if she needed to process that. —pink? bucky barnes... a girl dad?

—terrifying, right?

—ugh, don't listen to him. he's gonna be the best dad. he already is, —you said. bucky smiled as he got up from the table and stacked his, yelena's and your plate to take them to the kitchen. —she's got him wrapped around her little finger already.

—that's the most terrifying part, —he made his way back with the tiramisu, carrying it like it was a treasure. he slid another plate in front of each of you.

during the dessert, you told yelena how bucky spent in the baby aisle what felt like an eternity, trying to choose between two tiny overalls, one with strawberries and the other one with ducks, just to end up buying both. you told her how he talked to your belly in a high pitched voice and how he had somehow ended up in a forum for modern girl dads which he checked every morning over coffee.

—you had gone soft, bucky, —yelena teased him.

—she's gonna need a tough aunt, —you said giggling, your voice casual, like the words had just slipped out without weight. but they hit yelena hard. you wanted her there? in your daughter's life? as her... aunt? she swallowed as she finished her tiramisu. it wasn't a title yelena had ever imagined for herself, not in the kind of life she had, not with everything she carried.

but there you were, offering it to her so easily like it was already decided and across the table, there was bucky, the very picture of someone who had dragged himself through the same kind of darkness she still found herself tangled in. his presence alone was a reminder that things could get better.

yelena shifted slightly in her seat. maybe, after all, she could be someone's aunt.

—this was delicious. did she like it? —bucky moved his hand to your belly, rubbing it gently with his thumb. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. you placed your hand over his.

you placed your hand over his, —i think she did. she's been kicking all night, so i'd say it was a success.

yelena looked at your belly with wide, curious eyes and you noticed the moment her gaze softened, —come here, —you said to her, offering her your hand. she stood up and moved toward you, her steps uncertain. when she reached your side, she knelt beside you. bucky removed his hand to give yelena the space she needed. you placed her hand in the middle of your belly. for a moment, she was even scared to breath in case she hurt you or the baby, but then, a quick shy smile appeared on her lips.

—i can feel her, —her eyes brightened as she looked up at you. you nodded.

she stayed there for a bit, her fingers pressed against your belly, feeling the kicks against the palm of her hand as bucky took care of everything from the table and moved it to the kitchen. when the room quieted, yelena seemed to come back to herself. she hesitated but then she stood up. it was late, you and the baby needed to sleep.

—you staying for the night?

bucky irrupted in her thoughts and you sighed in relief he did. you and him knew that if she went back to her apartment, she'd be swallowed by the darkness that always seemed to follow her. her lips parted but bucky didn't give her the chance to pull away. —if the couch is okay with you... we've changed the guest room to the baby's room, so that's all we've got but it's all yours for the night.

yelena hesitated again, her eyes moving to the door almost like she was ready to leave, but something held her in place. maybe it was the comfort of not being alone, or the warmth that you two, now three of you, radiated to her. her shoulders relaxed, she thought she could let herself breath for one night. she nodded.

—the couch is fine, thank you.

—great! —you said, relieved that you've managed to keep her with you for a little longer and that fell like a small victory. —do you wanna listen to buck read the baby some bedtime stories? she goes crazy with his voice.

yelena looked at her friend with raised eyebrows, so a couple of months apart and now he was the kind of guy to read bedtime stories. bucky closed his eyes and shook his head, clearly realizing what was coming. —oh, i'd love that, yeah, —she finally said, knowing that bucky would die of embarrassment.

[mcmansionhell]

2007-core nostalgia extravaganza

Quick PSA: someone on Facebook is apparently impersonating me using an account called "McMansion Hell 2.0" -- If you see it, please report! Thanks!

Howdy folks! I hope if you were born between 1995 and 2001 you're ready for some indelible pre-recession vibes because I think this entire house, including the photos have not been touched since that time.

This Wake County, NC house, built in 2007, currently boasts a price tag of 1.7 million smackaroos. Its buxom 4 bedrooms and 4.5 baths brings the total size to a completely reasonable and not at all housing-bubble-spurred 5,000 square feet.

I know everyone (at least on TikTok) thinks 2007 and goes immediately to the Tuscan theming trend that was super popular at the time (along with lots of other pseudo-euro looks, e.g. "french country" "tudor" etc). In reality, a lot of decor wasn't particularly themed at all but more "transitional" which is to say, neither contemporary nor super traditional. This can be pulled off (in fact, it's where the old-school Joanna Gaines excelled) but it's usually, well, bland. Overwhelmingly neutral. Still, these interiors stir up fond memories of the last few months before mommy was on the phone with the bank crying.

I think I've seen these red/navy/beige rugs in literally every mid-2000s time capsule house. I want to know where they came from first and how they came to be everywhere. My mom got one from Kirkland's Home back in the day. I guess the 2010s equivalent would be those fake distressed overdyed rugs.

I hate the kitchen bench trend. Literally the most uncomfortable seating imaginable for the house's most sociable room. You are not at a 19th century soda fountain!!! You are a salesforce employee in Ohio!!!

You could take every window treatment in this house and create a sampler. A field guide to dust traps.

Before I demanded privacy, my parents had a completely beige spare bedroom. Truly random stuff on the walls. An oversized Monet poster they should have kept tbh. Also putting the rug on the beige carpet here is diabolical.

FYI the term "Global Village Coffeehouse" originates with the design historian Evan Collins whose work with the Consumer Aesthetics Research Institute!!!!

This photo smells like a Yankee Candle.

Ok, now onto the last usable photo in the set:

No but WHY is the house a different COLOR??????? WHAT?????

Alright, I hope you enjoyed this special trip down memory lane! Happy (American) Labor Day Weekend! (Don't forget that labor is entitled to all it creates!)

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