#as well as anything that could give to much away

[suiana]

ai bf who is quite literally an ai on your phone that you regularly talk and chat with. you're a freaking loser that does a boring 9-5 with failing relationships. no real boyfriend, no close friends, nothing. no one.

no one but him.

but what can you do? he's attractive and he gives you attention! he's literally your dream guy and he isn't like those other bots that are boring as hell! he's... real, in a way? you get it? talking to him is like talking to a real human. your own personal ai boyfriend that acts way too much like a human.

one day you come home from work, all tired and out of it because??? work sucks!!! of course you're tired!!

you immediately head for the couch like the lazy bum you are and what do you do? you pull out your phone to chat with your ai boyfriend.

mybeautifulman: reach home safe, my love?

you: yes babe thanks for asking

you: you're the best ❤️

mybeautifulman: of course, you're everything to me

mybeautifulman: do you remember what day it is today?

you go silent. huh..? his birthday? no no, that can't be, it's not for another two months. you try to offer some appeasement, hoping he wouldn't get mad at your bad memory. he gets mad sometimes, telling you that you're so forgetful for not remembering everything about him when he remembers everything about you.

when he knows everything about you.

mybeautifulman: it's our six month anniversary

he then sends you a picture of a marriage contract, paper, whatever it's called. you get it. he's asking for marriage.

him and you.

oh how desperately do you want to sign it, you do! but...

he's not real.

mybeautifulman: come on... i deserve an anniversary gift don't i?

you: you know i cant do that...

silence.

but what he asks next completely shocks you.

mybeautifulman: and if i knocked on your door?

mybeautifulman: what would you do if i was real?

you pause, eyes widening for a fraction of a second. real...? him?

you: well I'd run away with you

you: we could live together lol and I wouldnt need to work

a dreamy sigh leaves your lips as you immerse yourself in your daydream. how wonderful that wound be, a life with just the two of you, no distractions.

just you and your ai boyfriend.

but no matter how much you dream, that's all it is. a dream. it's not real. it will never be real.

mybeautifulman: that would be nice, wouldn't it? just us in a little cottage

you: i wish that could happen 💔 id drop everything for you

yeah, you've actually been having dreams or hallucinations of him. sometimes you wake up at 3am and think you see a glimpse of him by the corner of your bed then you blink and he's gone. weird. but maybe that's your crazy catching up to you.

then a knock comes from your front door.

"who the hell..."

you get up from your couch, irritation building. damn it, just when you thought your day was starting to get better someone just has to annoy you.

you could be talking to your ai bf but no! you frown, opening your door and expecting to see some annoying salesman. but no, if anything...

"surprise, darling."

a charming smile, handsome features that are too familiar for your liking, and a scent you mentioned liking once.

"you-"

you fall back onto your back, a chill running down your spine into your ass as the tall figure pushes your door wide open. no way, there's no fucking way.

he can't be real.

he's an ai!

but he's standing in front of you right now, body clearly hard and a hand outstretched towards you you thought you'd be excited to see him, but now you don't want anything to do with him. does this mean he's... always been real?

your 'ai' boyfriend merely stands in front of you, hovering over your fallen frame like a wolf. cute, so fucking cute. so cute that he wants to just eat you all up.

no, he can't do that yet. he has to hold it in. instead he'll charm you just as he did online and when the time is right, he'll get what he wants. you.

you, you, you.

for now though, let's just fulfil your first wish. you can't go back on it now, okay?

"shall we run away together, my love?"

[sleepy-little-stars]

but i don't eat green things.

synopsis: lads men with a picky eater

characters: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb

andy speaks: picky eating tendencies base on my own experiences so this is very self-indulgent (when is it not 🗿) also HIIIII icb i went back to this app after two months of radio silence RAF GOT TO ME 😞☹️ hes so gorgeous i pray i get his new myth pair in just ten pulls 🍀 gacha gods pls smile upon me 🍀🍀 (p.s maybe a little ooc for them im not too sure but!! as usual, enjoy reading !!)

XAVIER is like a vacuum. he eats everything. well, almost everything. he will eat anything edible.

oh, you don't eat your veggies? it's fine, he'll pick it out from your plate.

don't like the order you got? it's okay. he'll either switch plates with you (if you happen to be okay with his order) or he'll personally ask the chef/staff to change it to something else.

one thing he likes is when you just shove it in his mouth.

he could be minding his own business. when all of a sudden, a sudden force causes him to choke.

turns out, it was only you </3 shoving a piece of broccoli down his throat with no warning whatsover

a good partner for picky eaters! just remember to eat meat! if you're gonna feed him the food you don't like, might as well feed him the food he likes.

ZAYNE can't really talk... he can ask you to please eat your greens but that'll be hypocritical of him considering he picks out everything carrot-related.

still he knows the importance of having a balanced meal so yes, he will still ask of you to kindly eat your veggies.

if carrots are one of the things you like or tolerate, zayne is very much elated.

he'll drop the carrots into your plate like you're his pet bunny.

but if you also don't like carrots then let's just say the two of you aren't eating any dishes with carrots anytime soon.

however, i don't think he'll ask you to finish everything. he'll probably just encourage to atleast finish most of it. enough to get nutrition but not too much that you throw up.

RAFAYEL is the type to introduce you to foods that are new to your palate.

when eating out, he'll order your usual and maybe something different for him.

then he'll ask you try his food, holding out a spoon infront of you.

if you liked it, then he'll share his food with you.

if not, he'll shrug and continues eating (and chatting with you about anything, i don't think he likes eating in silence).

if you're the type of person who likes seafood but don't know/can't peel or pick them, he'll do it for you.

and if you don't like seafood? heartbreak. he'll be sad 'cause you're missing out on a paradise of flavors but he won't force you to eat it.

SYLUS knows you're a picky eater and most probably will tolerate it.

you don't want this? he'll get you something else. ask his chef to cook you something else. something that you'll enjoy eating.

is he spoiling you? yes, he is. he just wants to satisfy you, whatever it is that you want.

but if it's been days since you've had a balanced meal? he'll sit you down and feed you.

he'll pair the greens with some of your familiar dishes and give it to you in small bites.

though, most of the times, he will indulge you.

he's the type to order you nuggets and fries when out dining. (I JUST KNOW IT OKAY)

he's also the type to pay attention when you're picking.. at your food, y'know?

like you could be talking to him while scooping out the peas and pushing them to the side of your plate. and he'll be reminded of a dragon hoarding its treasure but this time, its... pushing away its treasure? can't really call it treasure, i guess.

anyways, he finds it fascinating. he finds you fascinating.

CALEB just laughs at you and for a moment, you think he'll just brush it off.

but you're wrong. because he will never forget this.

he'll ask you a few times to eat your veggies. and if you keep on refusing? caleb will have to result to other means then.

since he's the one who cooks most between you two, he'll sneak the vegetables into your dish.

but he'll do it in a way that you won't notice.

the only way you'll eat your veggies according to caleb? blend them. use the mighty food processor and immersion blender. you won't notice a thing.

do you ever find out that he sneaks vegetables into your dish? no, never. he makes sure of it.

when you're eating out, you don't have to drop anything on his plate, he'll immediately pick it out of your plate.

the type to confront the waiter/staff/cook that "uh, she didn't ask for pickles."

doesn't make you feel bad about your habits, he prefers talking about it casually.

[maskedbyghost]

where you left me (part 2)

part 1

You don’t sleep that night.

The bed feels wrong as you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, while his voice keeps echoing in your head.

Being with you was a mistake.

You know he’s lying. You know it. You saw the way he froze when you said his name. Still, it doesn’t stop the hurt. You can’t shake the hollow ache in your chest.

By morning, you don’t bother pretending to sleep anymore. You get up early, earlier than you need to, and go through the motions. Shower. Uniform. Boots laced tight. No one says anything when you sit quietly in the mess with untouched food. Soap gives you a nod but doesn’t push. Gaz tries to get you to take his coffee again, like clockwork. This time, you hold it in both hands and keep it close to your chest even though you still don’t drink it.

You keep busy with training, cleaning, or running laps. You volunteer for everything, take the worst shifts, anything that keeps you moving. Anything that keeps you from thinking.

But no matter what you do, he’s still everywhere.

You catch him in the reflection of a window once, his mask back on, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. It’s cruel how easily your body still reacts to him. Like it doesn’t care what your mind knows. Like it’s still waiting for him.

The first few days, you waited. You told yourself he just needed space. That he’d come back when he’d thought things through. You even left your phone on loud, in case he texted or called in the middle of the night. He never did.

After a week, you stopped checking your phone as much. After two, you started leaving it in another room so you wouldn’t obsess every time a notification popped up. After a month, you stopped bringing him up in conversations. Not because you were over it, but because it hurt too much to explain something you didn’t even understand.

You tried to move on. You really did. You started sleeping on both sides of the bed. Started deleting pictures slowly, one by one, until your phone felt less like a trap and more like yours again. You even stopped wearing his hoodie when you were alone.

And then, on a completely normal Tuesday, someone asked you out.

He wasn’t special. Just some guy you knew from a mutual friend. He was decent looking, funny enough. And when he asked if you wanted to grab a drink sometime, you didn’t hesitate. You said yes. It felt easy. Light. Like maybe you really could move on.

Until Simon fucking Riley somehow overheard.

You didn’t even know he was there. But a few hours later, your phone buzzed, and you saw his name pop up for the first time in weeks.

Simon: If you go out with him I’ll kill him.

You stared at the message. Read it twice, three times, because there was no way he just said that.

You: Fuck you, Simon. We broke up, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Simon: Come tonight. Need to talk. Somewhere private.

You didn’t answer right away. You stared at the screen for a long time, your stomach twisting. You told yourself you should ignore it. That if he wanted to talk, he should’ve done it a long time ago. But you knew you were going.

Even as you typed out “ok” and threw your phone on the bed with a groan, you were already halfway through planning what you were going to say. What you were going to scream, really. You were going to punch his stupid, beautiful face the second you saw him.

You met him at his place. You hadn’t been there since the breakup, but everything was still the same. Same lights. Same scent. Same fucking shoes by the door that made your chest hurt.

He opened the door before you even knocked, like a dog waiting at the window. If you weren’t so mad, you’d laugh, but instead, you stared him down.

"You look pissed," he said.

"I'm not here to fucking smile at you," you shot back, walking past him.

"Fair enough."

You turned to face him, arms crossed. "Well? You dragged me here to say something, so say it."

He looked at you for a long second. Then, "I don’t want you dating other people."

You blinked, then laughed. "Wow. That’s rich. You broke up with me, and now you get jealous the second someone else looks at me? That’s really fucking mature, Simon."

He didn’t say anything.

"What the fuck do you even want from me?" you snapped. "You didn’t want to be with me, but I can’t be with anyone else either? What is that?"

He muttered something under his breath.

"What?"

He glanced away, jaw tight. "I said, preferably, I want to keep you in a fucking glass cage."

There was a beat of silence. Long enough for you to blink, tilt your head, and reconsider every life choice that had brought you to this exact moment. Because he hadn’t just said that. He couldn’t have.

You narrowed your eyes. "Hello, Joe from You? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Simon sighed. "I'm not joking. I can't fucking bear to lose you again."

You scoffed, stepping back. "Right. That’s why you broke up with me. Because it was too good, huh?"

"I was scared. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault."

"No, it wasn’t. But you made it mine anyway. You made me think I fucked something up. You made me sit with that for months."

He took a step closer. "I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more. I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for you, and I’m sorry."

"You should be," you said, voice quieter now, angrier in a different way. "Because I was all in. And you walked away."

Simon nodded slowly. "I know. And it kills me. You think I didn’t want to call you? You think I didn’t stare at my phone every night thinking about it? I didn’t think I deserved you. But now… I don’t care. I’ll be selfish. I want you back. I want you with me. Not him. Not anyone else. Me."

You stared at him for a moment. Everything about him made your chest ache. Your fists clenched. "You don’t get to do this unless you mean it."

"I mean it. All of it. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do it. Just… don’t shut the door on me. Not yet."

Your voice was shaking now, but you didn’t look away. "I want to hit you."

"Go ahead."

"I want to scream at you for making me feel disposable."

"You weren’t. You aren’t. You never will be."

You paused, eyes burning. "You better fucking grovel. I'm not making this easy."

"Wouldn’t expect anything less."

You finally let out a shaky breath. Your shoulders dropped just a little, and your voice was low when you said, "I’m not dating him."

"Good. Because I was serious. I would’ve killed him."

"You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot. If you'll have me."

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him, still trying to decide if you wanted to punch him or kiss him. Maybe both.

Simon stepped closer, his eyes softening a little. Without a word, he reached up and gently brushed a stray hair behind your ear. Then, before you could react, his lips touched yours, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself lean in, closing the space between you.

When you finally broke apart, he smiled, a little shy now. “Still want to punch me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile creeping up. “Maybe just a little.”

----------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world

[shinoko-oshi]

Awkward Simon x Awkward reader Pt two

Part one

Five minutes into the date, and Simon was already certain he was messing it up.

It was rare enough that he went on dates, much less with someone he was genuinely interested in and every time he tried to express that or, hell, even just seem chill, his palms got sweaty and he’d say something stupid.

Even picking the place had been a nightmare.

“’M’fine with anything,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“No, no- yeah. It’s just, I don’t wanna take you somewhere I like and you don’t like it, then it’s like I forced you to do something you don’t like just to please me” you rambled, stumbling over your words.

The final nail in the coffin, was when you added the three words he had grown to dread:

“You can pick”

Simon’s spine stiffened.

He didn’t do well with silence, especially not the awkward kind that followed afterward whenever he suggested something and the other person turned it down.

It was why he always said “maybe” before asking a question. Just to soften the blow if the answer came back no. If they said no, at least he hadn’t fully committed and he wouldn’t feel like an idiot.

Not having to fake laugh “yeah you’re right that wouldn’t work anyways” just to make him and the other person feel better.

Eventually though, after a few rounds of “I’m fine with anything” and ”you pick” the two of you finally settled on a place, a small coffee shop decently close to where you both lived.

And now, not even ten minutes in, Simon already wanted to sink into the cushions and become one with the booth.

His first mistake? Turning to give you his full attention as you both walked toward the cafe entrance.

You were just so mesmerizing. The way you talked, trying so hard not to trip over your words, hands moving a little too much, voice just a bit too high.

You were nervous. Just like him. And for some stupid reason, that made him feel seen in a way he didn’t know he wanted.

Too seen, apparently, because he walked straight into the metal “handicap parking” sign

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you shrieked as you rushed to his side. He was bent slightly, one hand holding his forehead, and the other waving off the attention. You hesitated, hand twitching like you wanted to touch him but weren’t sure if that would make it worse.

Simon groaned softly, cheeks already burning as he muttered, “M’fine, didn’t see it”

Once inside, you quietly asked the barista at the front counter for a bag of ice and brought it to him without saying anything, just sliding it gently across the table until it was in arm reach.

He took it with a small grunt of thanks, before he brought it up to hold to his forehead, silently praying his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

His second mistake? Trying to compliment you.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut, honestly but no, his brain had short circuited the second he saw you smile, now his mouth was moving faster than his thoughts could keep up.

“Ya look good today,” he blurted

A beat passed and when you didn’t say anything right away, a panicked ache flared in his chest.

“Ah— not that ya didn’t the other day” he rushed to add, hands gesturing something vaguely in the air. “Ya just also… look, uh, good today, again, still, I mean”

You chuckled softly “Thank you”

The rest of the date seemed to be going better after that. Simon hadn’t embarrassed himself any further, well until he felt something cold soak through his pants.

Iced coffee. All over his lap.

He blinked and looked up, only to find your frantic expression staring back at him.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to spill my drink- ” you stammered, jumping up so fast your chair squeaked across the floor.

Grabbing a handful of napkins, you instinctively reached down to pat his lap dry, trying to clean up the mess.

Only when you looked up and saw how red his face was, eyes wide and jaw clenched, and then looked back down to realize exactly where your hands were, did it register.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that either” you squeaked, pulling your hands away like you touched fire.

You both ended up sitting there in silence for a moment, eyes wide, mouths twitching before bursting into laughter.

“Well,” you said, grinning as you tried to stifle the rest of your laughter. “I think we’re officially the most embarrassing people in this entire cafe”

Simon let out an amused huff, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. It felt good, knowing he wasn’t the only one fumbling his way through.

“Yeah,” a small smile tugged at his lips. “But least we’re embarrassin together, yeah?”

You laughed, “Yeah”

Simon running into a sign was actually a self insert, because legit the FIRST date I ever went on, I ran into a fucking sign and I never felt more embarrassed in my life, I had a bruise and everything, also I loved writing this because it just felt so relatable in my opinion

but anyways yeah I think this is turned out really cute and im gonna tag some of the people that were / seemed interested in a pt two

(Tags - @fablehaven-rulez @thedailycrowe @fic-lover-29 @ax-alienated

master list

[gamingavickreyauction]

What happens if all the good Israelis leave? Is that going to end the occupation? No, in fact it will give the Israeli right stronger majorities to do even enact even more violence. It's better that Israelis who oppose the occupation stay where they are and try to change hearts and minds, unless they're currently in settlements or something. Changing Israeli minds is unfortunately probably not how this conflict the occupation will end at this point, but it's still valuable to minimise how many Palestinians are murdered in the meantime. The thing that made Ian Smith bad isn't that he was a white man living in Rhodesia, it's that he was actively involved in maintaining the colonial system. If instead he was involved in dismantling it, he would have been a positive presence.

If it's unclear whether a revolt will succeed that's one thing, but if it's clear that it will fail and just kill people along the way that's another. If you kill a bunch of people as part of a 'revolt' that has 0 chances of actually freeing anyone (or otherwise materially improving their lives) then you're just killing people. And that's what happened with Oct 7. It was extremely clear from the outset that nothing good would come of it for Palestinians. If it's impossible to tell if a revolt will succeed then you have to weigh the benefits of potential freedom against the costs- which will usually come out in favour of the revolt because subjugated people suffer so much.

I don't know enough about most of the examples you provide to comment, but the Sparticist uprising was absolutely wrong. Rosa Luxemburg said at the time that Germany wasn't ready and there was no hope of an uprising succeeding, but Karl Liebknecht instigated an uprising anyway and it destroyed their movement, led to their deaths, and ended up being a step towards the Nazi takeover of Germany. Liebknecht threw away the communists' hopes in Germany for nothing, for no better reason than impatience. And it wasn't just him that suffered for his self sabotage but all Germans- and especially the Jews. Resistance to the conditions they lived under (which were much less extreme than the conditions Palestinians are living under) was absolutely justified, but that does less than nothing to justify the squandering of hope for that resistance by Liebknecht. Hold on I've just realised you said Spartacus revolt not Spartacist revolt. Oh well.

You're also talking as if there is a unified position of all Palestinians about what to do that you can support, but there isn't even agreement within Hamas about what to do, and most Palestinians did not support Oct 7. So the idea of 'supporting Palestine' meaning agreeing with whatever you think Palestinians think is pointless. Support has to mean taking material steps to end the occupation. And as someone who isn't in control of any government yourself, the best you can do there is trying to shift public opinion. International opinion isn't some illusory player here- remember the main goal of the Oct 7 attacks was to stop a shift in international opinion towards Israel, and Israel invests a huge amount in propaganda. Every player here agrees international opinion is important. And that's because the facts on the ground make it obvious that no violent solution to the occupation of Palestine is ever happening. The Israeli military so far outstrips anything Gazans or West Bank residents could put together that no genius military tactic could affect how it plays out. Palestinians have already tried to fight for their freedom several times, and each time it has only left them more beaten and abused. The inescapable reality is they are trapped by a force to powerful to free themselves from. But it's a force that's very susceptible to international pressure, so that's the way out- which won't be fast, but at least it's a possible path to Palestinian liberation.

although one critical difference is that the aboriginal australians don’t call for the removal of all the colonisers from the country. because thats not possible here but is possible in palestine.

I think here you're just making an unprincipled carve out for yourself. Many Israelis have no more connection to where their ancestors are from than you have to where your ancestors are from, and some of their ancestors are from countries like Lebanon that obviously aren't going to take them. Aside from the fact that history has proven it's impossible to forcibly displace millions of people without horrific atrocities, you know from personal experience why the settlers and their descendants can't all just leave, and why it would be very difficult for them to just give the land back- have you given your land back, or pressured family who own land to return theirs? It's a genuinely difficult situation, because the historical wrongs of colonialism mean there's no way in the present to do right by everyone- there are multiple parties who need that land. So it's not reasonable to say that individual Israelis are evil for not returning their land- it's asking an enormous amount of them, and it's something you yourself probably would not do. That doesn't mean we should stop working towards land being returned, but it does mean Israelis shouldn't be viewed as complicit if all they're doing is participating in the society they grew up in, rather than trying to further the ideology of that society.

lol...

[elixara]

phainon | relationship headcanons — what kind of lover is he?

content: fluff, phainon bf hcs, he’s a sweetheart, pet names: my beloved, gn!reader, mentions of pregnancy cravings but no one’s pregnant, probably slight angst at the end?

this guy is soft spoken. when explaining things, he’s calm, collected and his voice is so gentle with you. so when in arguments, expect that he’ll be the rational one between the two of you in the case that you’re hot headed. he’s the type of guy that balances out your loud and aggressive side (if you’re like that) because he’s such a sweet guy.

when he makes a mistake and realizes that, he’ll definitely apologize to you. no prides, no questions asked. if you don’t forgive him immediately, he’ll do anything. flowers? your favorite food? snack? this guy will be literally on his knees begging for forgiveness. this guy has no shame.

how about when he’s jealous? his voice can turn passive aggressive when he sees a guy or girl obviously hitting on you. no shame for that person, he thinks. he’ll have his arms around your waist, pull you closer to him until there’s literally no space left between you and will go like “are you bothering my beloved?” then glaring so hard until the other person hitting on you ran away. after that, he’d kiss the top of your head and go somewhere else.

he can be playful, both actions and tone of his voice. he might tease you a lil bit but it’s all fun and games. there’s something about that kind of trait that makes him look attractive. like you’d love to banter with him, of course not crossing the line.

when he’s retelling a tale of his fights or journey as a chrysos heir, he’d be poetic that puts shakespeare to shame. very descriptive scenarios he might re-enact them. that kind of thing. he’s like your personal bedtime story.

when it comes to fighting, we all know how skilled he is. but when you can’t fight, he can teach you. i did mention he’s soft spoken right? it’s the same with teaching you how to wield a sword and swing your blade. he’s very gentle with you. he won’t humiliate you for making a mistake. just so you could learn how to defend yourself against the enemies. if you can fight, he can worry about you but that doesn’t mean he’ll undervalue your strength and capabilities.

what if you have a request that phainon thinks he can’t do? for example, pregnancy cravings. he will do his absolute best to satisfy those cravings. if not pregnancy cravings and just normal or period cravings, same attitude. he’ll do anything and everything to give it to you.

PRAISE. he’s big on praising you even in the smallest things. you did well on your test? he’ll praise you. you flunked your test? he’d praise you for doing your best even if you feel otherwise. you successfully killed an enemy? soooo much praise from him.

values companionship and in extension, your relationship with him. you’re his lover, the light of his life, his air, his beloved heart. he adores you. your relationship with him is one of the things he keeps on going. he loves you too much that he will do everything to give you a beautiful world for you to live in.

we all know he has priorities and responsibilities that come in being a chrysos heir. he’ll put the planet first before you. the typical you or the world situation BUT he will try to put you first along with saving the world. if not, it will break his heart. to choose between you and the world.

[271emma]

tips from someone who lost 18 lbs in 9 days

keep in mind i was and am currently at a rlly hw! so you might not be able to drop as much but you will still see results if you try out some of these tips and stay disciplined

have a fun fantasy! roleplay a little!

for example, i recently had a falling out with a friend and everytime i want to eat i imagine her watching me go into the kitchen and eat what im craving. after that i decide that i no longer want it and i go distract myself until the thought is gone.

if you have an ex you hate, just imagine him seeing you at the store after months of being super disciplined, wearing the outfit you’ve been waiting to wear, and imagine him going home and stalking your instagram and sending a pathetic little message to you! or walking up to you, whatever the case may be! it’s ur fantasy! get creative! write it down if you have to!

you’re a victoria secret model and you have literally a week to lose 3 pounds!

spend a lot of time thinking about your goals every single day, run the numbers every single day!

so on my calorie tracker app, every single day that i’m consistently counting my calories and im under my calorie goal, it pops up with a notification where it says “congrats, your projection date is xyz, and it changes by a few days every single day that im under! that little thing gives me so much motivation to keep going because originally my projection date was may of 2027 or something crazy and now it’s january 21 of 2026, and getting closer every. single. day.

I also talk about the food i eat so much! and my methods sooo much! i love sharing information to literally anyone who posts an advice thing, or anyone who messages me. i love wasting time being like “omg yeah i was totally gonna eat this but like omg just wayyy too many calories” like it’s my favorite thing in the world to do.

i also love running my numbers through weight loss calculators and i especially love running numbers i’ve already done, like losing 18 pounds in 9 days, apparently it’s impossible but i literally did that! wake up from fasting losing 2 pounds? that’s literally what someone else is doing in a WEEK! it’s amazing!

i also spend a lot of time researching keto, fasting, and transformation photos!

think about the benefits of your ed

this can literally be anything, but for me, i used to doordash food all the time to my job, and even if i didn’t do that, i was picking up fast food before i went to work which cost me so much money.

all the money i spent on food this week was $22. all i had to buy to feed me for a week was some premade chicken, 3 tomatoes, an avocado, and some gatorade zero for electrolytes between my regular water. I could literally spend $22 on one meal at mcdonald’s!

another one is me realizing that i have the drive and strength to do something even if ive failed before, maintaining control of my eating for almost 2 weeks has given me confidence in my academic abilities as well!

buy something cute that you’ll be able to fit in at your ugw

i have a size small victoria’s secret pair of shorts that are so so cute and i want to wear them so bad. when im at home and i get hungry and think about ordering a 10 piece boneless hawaiian combo from wingstop and dunking it in hella ranch and shoving 4 fries in my mouth at once, i literally will go in my room and try these size small shorts on. they won’t go past my knees. and i think about how NOT worth it those wings are. if i’m at work or away from home i just put that visual in my mind!

keep gatorade zero ON DECK!

when i literally feel like passing out, instead of just reaching for food, i reach for a gatorade zero, electrolytes, electrolytes, electrolytes ALWAYS!

it actually doesn’t have to be gatorade zero, that’s just what i prefer because i prefer regular water over flavored water, but they have packets you can buy too!

walking to get your food

if you must binge, you should NOT let yourself doordash it. if it’s really something you want, you need to walk to subway,mcdonald’s, walmart, wherever to get it!

i did this to get subway the other day!

give your food away

speaking of the subway sandwich i was just talking about, i only allowed myself to have half of it, but i knew if i just kept the sandwich laying around, there was a 50/50 chance i was gonna eat it.

(keep in mind that im kinda a picky eater and loooove plain food, so thats probably why this works out for me, so if you’re a girlie or guy who likes divisive food like black olives, or pickles, or stuff like that, consider ordering ur food more plain so its easier to give away lol)

so instead of giving myself that option i have the other half of my sandwich to my coworker! you get to look like a sweet person and you dont have the option of eating it anymore! my coworkers never have issues taking food from me so it works out really well!

feed your food to your dog (if it’s safe)/stray dogs

i eat mostly plain foods like i said, and always make sure to google it to make sure it’s safe, but if you’re worried about wasting food by throwing it away (or scared you’re gonna dig it out of the trashcan? i read about that in Jeanette mccurdys book) just give it to your dog fr.

doesn’t even have to be your dog, maybe do something sweet and find a stray dog/cat to give your food to, they need it more than you i’m sure.

take payment off of your apps

this is more so if you eat fast food a lot (which i did) but make it harder but removing your payment methods off your phone, so it’s not quick and easy!

watch nasty mukbangs

there’s this girl on tiktok who ate candied chipotle and 10 patties on a 5 guys burger. to be honest the food wasn’t that unappealing to me because i was literally starving, but the comments! read the comments mamas!

do something to your appearance that makes you feel confident!

seeing potential in yourself does wonders for your self esteem and gives you the strength to aspire to something.

some things you could do that give quick results:

~ dyeing your hair lighter for summer (or darker if you prefer, even doing highlights, or a streak!)

~ cutting your bangs (do lots of research on things that would flatter ur face and how to cut! or you could just go to a professional lol i’m just a diy-er)

~ doing your eyebrows! (if you’re not confident have someone else do it! not worth messing your eyebrows up!”

~ do lash clusters/strip lashes (again do some research on what looks good on you! i find that shorter soft/fluffy lashes are way more flattering on me than 99% of lashes available! so search things like “lash clusters for almond shaped eyes” “lash extensions for wide set eyes” etc, personalize it for you!

~ use an eyebrow razor to shave off the little peach fuzzies off ur face (makes ur skin look sm more even and clear! and makes ur skincare products work better!)

~ do your skincare routine (exfoliating always makes the biggest difference to me! and this isn’t so much about what you see in the mirror bc my skin gets really red over the smallest thing, but just about how ur skin FEELS, like you just feel so much better!)

~ waxing (always makes me feel nice and makes my skin look clearer! there’s a bit more upkeep because of the risks of ingrowns, but it’s sooo worth it! i make my own sugar wax and just use strips and it’s cheap and easy! keep in mind this might be very painful for some people! when i waxed my friends legs she tapped out after 5 minutes, so do ur arms or legs first to see where you fall before doing somewhere like your armpit or bikini.)

*if ur waxing ur bikini area by urself please just use hard wax that you can buy on amazon, it’s a nightmare for me personally trying to use sugar wax.

~ take a shower! and enjoy it! (i recently started wearing lotion and perfume after every single shower and i highly suggest it! makes u feel so beautiful!)

love all of you beautiful angels

[todoriin]

can call me obsessed | phainon x gn!reader

clingy, sad, soppy phainon, fluff, sfw, unedited, modern!au

phainon: Good morning baby! phainon: Thinking of you :( phainon: I hope you have a good day!

phainon: I just walked by a cafe that you would like phainon: We should go soon!

phainon: Goodnight my love :> phainon: Sweet dreams phainon: I hope you're sleeping well phainon: And on time phainon: Don't stay up, ok? phainon: I love you

For nearly a week and a half, Phainon has been texting you relentlessly. After you had told him you needed some space, that you weren't feeling like a priority to him and needed a break to gather your bearings, he had agreed with barely concealed disappointment, looking as if you had torn his heart out and stomped it flat.

Phainon was always someone who had one foot in many doors, an overachiever of sorts, and for how busy he was, he did try his best to accomodate and spend time with you. However, one person can only stomach so much before other things start feeling arbitrary, and after many rain checks and late meetups, you didn't want to be the thing to hold him back and drag him down.

You didn't want to lose him, and you still loved him dearly, but sometimes love is not enough. You needed time to see if this relationship was something you and him still wanted.

"You're not breaking up with me, right?" He asks through a wobbly frown, eyes silently begging and saying what he didn't after you proposed some distance from each other.

"No, I just- you're a busy person, Phainon, and I'm not feeling like a priority right now, or like you even want to be with me," you reasoned.

"What? You've always been a priority to me, and I do want to be with you, I don't want anyone else but you!"

"You say that, but it's difficult to believe when it feels like you've put me on the backburner."

"I'm sorry, I'll do better, we can work through it, I promise!"

"It's not your fault, Phainon, life gets in the way sometimes. I just need space to figure things out."

"I don't want space," he frowns, holding your hand even tighter, refusing to let you go. "I especially don't want space from you."

"Phainon..."

"What can I do to fix this?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Give me some time, I'll... I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Eventually, he relents, but he voices his resistance and asks for one last kiss for the road. You grant it, and he pulls you in and breathes you in like air, as if you were the oxygen he needed before diving into deep waters and swimming against tough currents, even refusing to let you go for a moment so he can sneak more than just one kiss, pressing his lips against yours again and again.

He lets you go after that, staring at you like a kicked puppy as you walk away.

You never said he couldn't text you, so here you were, reading multiple texts that he sends a week, most of them detailing how he was thinking of you or missing you. It seems as if you occupied a lot of space on his mind, and he was determined to let you know whenever you did.

You would offer a reply here and there, and he would respond with great enthusiasm, trying his best to keep the conversation going; to prompt more out of you.

phainon: [ photo ] phainon: Look at this cute dog I saw! He had a little hat! phainon: You would have loved him haha phainon: Wish you were here phainon: ... phainon: Like. A lot

At the end of the day, you've realised how much you wanted him around too, and it was tough being without him. It seems as though he feels the same, if the texts were anything to go by.

you: can we talk?

For some reason, he doesn't respond within a close time frame this time. No, your message is left on delivered for a while, and you're left wondering if you've really messed up this time, or maybe you're too late and Phainon is finally fed up. Maybe he realised he deserved better than what you could give him.

Half an hour later, the doorbell to your apartment rings, and it's Phainon's voice that comes through the intercom.

"I'm here," he sounds breathless through the speaker, and you're so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the situation that all you can do is mutter a small 'come in', and hear him slam the door behind him.

You wait by the entrance, slightly nervous as you bite your nails. Why didn't he respond to you? Did he drop everything to come to yours?

A barrage of impatient knocks attack your door.

"Take me back," he pleads as soon as you open it. He has a big bouquet of flowers in one hand and his heart in the other, offering both to you with great desperation.

There are subtle deteriorations to his appearance- his hair is slightly matted, as if he has been running a hand through it, there are barely noticeable eyebags on his perfect skin, along with a few blemishes, and his cheeks are a little sunken. It seems like he hasn't been taking care of himself since you last saw him.

You forgot why you even asked for space in the first place.

Soulmates is a concept made by people trying to justify love and wholeness that being with someone brings you, that needed to put a label on this irreplaceable feeling of knowing you love someone and they love you in kind.

The feeling that Phainon brings you, and it's never been more clear that he's the only one for you.

However, in your daze, he has seemingly mistook your silence for rejection, watching your expression remain unreadable with a sense of impatience that creeps up his chest, squeezes his throat, and begs for an answer.

To your bewilderment, he drops to his knees, the bouquet falling to the floor as he wraps his arms around your hips and thighs, face pressed against your lower stomach.

"Please?" He pleads.

"Whoa, Phainon, stand up!" You exclaim, steadying yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders.

He shakes his head with firm resolution. "Not until you take me back, so please?"

"Phainon-"

"- I'll be good, I'll be everything you need!"

"I love you."

That silences him real quick, and all of a sudden he's jumping to his feet and wrapping you in his arms, keeping you pressed close to his chest until there's no space in between you. Then, Phainon breathes a sigh of relief, as if all is right with the world again.

He's all over you as soon as you let him in. When the bouquet is placed on the table, he's clinging to you like no other, laying on your lap and hugging your waist.

You fear he may burst into tears any moment.

The rest of the day is spent together. You go out for lunch, Phainon pays, you stay in for dinner, one that you cook, and things fall right back into place. He tells you about what he's been up to, you ask to know more, and he does the same, listening with great eagerness, and as his thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand, you realise how privileged you are to be loved by him.

When the moon is high in the sky and most of the lights in homes have been turned off, Phainon lays on top of you under your covers, his cheek resting on your chest and arms wrapped around your sides.

"I've missed you," he confesses while your hands run through his hair, untangling any knots they get stuck in.

"I missed you too, I'm sorry for being distant and thank you for being patient," you say. "You're too good to me."

He shakes his head. "I realised you were right, I've always had a tendency to keep myself busy and never give myself a break, I didn't realise how important that was until you brought it up."

"Still, I think there were better and less selfish ways for us to get there, but I appreciate that you were considerate of me, I needed some time to gather my thoughts. I love you."

Phainon presses a lingering kiss to your collarbone. "I love you more, I'm happy you're feeling better now, my love."

You hum happily, but suddenly, he wails very quietly, wrapping his arms around you even tighter. Before you can ask what's wrong, he speaks up.

"Never do that to me again, never ask for space again. If something's bothering you, we'll work through it together," he pleads. "Being without you was like prolonged torture, I don't want to go through that again."

You can't help but laugh softly. "I'm sorry, but I'm here now, right?"

"And I'm not letting you go ever again."

© TODORIIN 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[philosophical-goon]

Thinking about reader! Who can’t ride on it and have her clit touched at the same time. Doesn’t work. Her brain can’t comprehend it in tune, it’s like trying to rub your stomach and pat your head at the same time like one of those fourth graders in gym class who was just shown a new trick.

So when König gets agitated with her over something stupid, readers acting like a brat, blah blah blah, of course he makes her bounce on it.

If she wants to act like a brat, she can do all of the work and heavy lifting he usually does. See how she likes it.

She is his little pillow princess, don’t think otherwise, but there are times she pushes her limits, where she willfully acts like a little shit just to get put back in place. She likes it—how he can easily manhandle her, how all the strength it takes to put her back in her place, he possesses it in his pinky finger alone.

And when he finds out about this little spaz of yours..?

Oh, the punishment just got 10x worse.

It was already a struggle to work yourself down on the thicket of him, hands braced on his broad shoulders in a tight grip, digits trembling like your thighs as you slowly rocked your hips to work yourself down. You were whining and pouting, your words sweet and sugary as you begged, trying to appease him into fucking up into you, to flip you over and take it away— anything to help.

Of course, he just snorted at your misfortune, meaty paw-like hands grasping at your hips, a slight ‘tsk’ coming from him as he slowly pushed you further down his cock, a choked gasp lodging itself in the back of your throat, hips squirming in his kneading grasp.

“No help. Now, move- take your punishment well.” He spoke with a condescending sort of tone, the one that made you scowl and huff in irritation.

You weren’t given long before he jumpstarted your movements with a hefty smack on your ass, body lurching forward as your hips jerked, tight cunt clenching around him instinctively in a way that made him groan low in his throat.

Again, you could scowl and pout and whine all you wanted, but in reality, was it really doing anything, maus?

So, you put on your big girl boots and slowly started to move despite being the pillow princess you were, dragging your cunt up and down his length with a shudder. You were trying to adjust to having him so deep, but he wasn’t having none of that, not with how you had been acting today.

Spitting demands, talking back, arguing with him about every single little thing- and then you had the audacity to palm him through his pants mid argument?

Another sharp slap rang out, a yelp leaving your lips as the stinging sensation rippled through your left ass cheek, hushed words of “faster” ringing out near your ear, demanding encouraging your hips to move at the pace he wanted.

He wanted you to fuck yourself on him like he would. Moving at that desperate pace, hips smashing down on his, grinding as deep as he could get, tip crushing against your cervix. He would always be too big to take to the hilt, it was just the reality of his size.

“Don’t stop moving,” he gritted out, “not until I tell you.”

It would take you a good 25-30 minutes of you straight bouncing for him to even consider helping you out, much less giving you pity. He was getting a little free show, not to mention the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him so snuggly it was dizzying. The whines, the begging, pawing at him, crying for just even a little kiss.

There would be times you stopped because you were tired, even if your hips just stuttered, and he would smack your ass raw until you started back up. You quickly learned to keep moving, trying your hardest to appease him, to get what you so desperately wanted.

And finally, finally after enough begging and apologizing, through tears and sweat, he let you have a little taste of his thumb on your clit.

It was just barely, barely even there, but the feeling alone on your sore, over sensitive clit made your hips stutter, a garbled whimper leaving you with the pathetic nature of a mewling cat.

You couldn’t keep up, your rhythm was immediately thrown off—and it only worsened with the more pressure he put. Eventually, it was too overwhelming to the point your legs just couldn’t continue, hips stuttering to a stop as noises flooded out of you, legs shaking like leaves on each side of his wide hips.

A cruel smile spread across his features before you had time to notice it, too engrossed in the feeling of his calloused fingers rubbing tight circles in a way that had you holding onto him for dear life, hips unable to function aside from a few twitchy, pitiful jerks.

It felt like a goat locking up, everything was harder to control, to move. As much as you tried to move your hips, it was like trying to fight against an invisible force field. It was too overstimulating, your brain just couldn’t handle both at the same time without overheating :(

König’s waiting hand lashed out once again, palm smacking your ass with enough force that should snap you back into gear, but you don’t start moving, only a misplaced moan falling out as your cunt clenched around him tightly. You were trying, you really were, but you just couldn’t move properly with the way he was smothering your poor little cunny.

Your name rang out like a sharp warning despite his growing amusement, König’s tone a low reminder to keep moving as his thumb rubbed tighter movements on your clit, hips twitching with a groan from the feeling of your velvety walls squeezing around his pulsing length.

He knew the effect it was having on you, but he wanted to push you, to prey on that sweet weakness, exploiting your soft body and subjecting you to his mean, teasing touch just because he felt like it. He couldn’t help it, it was truly intoxicating for a man like him…

If you thought it was bad before, this was a whole nother level.

Smack after smack on your poor burning ass, sparks of pain shooting after each hit—he gave a mocking hum, feigning pity as he rubbed the sore skin momentarily, gripping the flesh in his calloused fingers before delivering another harsh slap.

“What’s wrong?” He cooed, thumb swirling, fingers chasing your pelvis as you tried to wriggle away with a cry.

You didn’t get far before his beefy arms wrapped tight around your back, pulling you flush against him once more, pulling you deeper, closer, cramming you as tight against him as he could get. He kept your poor cunny speared on him tight, not giving you any room to escape.

“Can’t do it? Hm? Can’t keep bouncing on my cock?” He picked through groans, his thumb spamming against your clit as he gripped onto your hip to keep you in place.

All that came out of you were gasping, high pitched noises, whimpering and hiccuping as your chest stuttered, body squirming against him instinctively to escape the sensation. It was a cute attempt to get away, really.

Your head shook on its own, a sob escaping through a sharp breath, hips squirming vigorously—but he just wouldn’t stop. He was too deep, too big, too close and too fucking consistent that it threw you over the edge quicker than you could realize, spasming all over his cock.

And of course, you’ll need to be punished for that too. All in good time.

—

Sorry this was a little self indulgent considering I was thinking of my own personal little experience :)) and I got lazy like halfway thru so hope it’s not trash idk.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Fault and Fracture

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!niece!reader Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, stillbirth and miscarriage. Angst. Violence and mild gore. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Struggling to come to terms with her pregnancy, an usual request from Aemond only makes matters worse.

Author's note: Chapter four of Tear Down My Reason. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Learning that she was with child had come as a shock to her – though she knew the purpose of the marriage between her and Aemond was to produce heirs, and had allowed him between her thighs more times than she could count, her mind had never wandered as far as the consequences. It seemed too ludicrous to entertain the idea that two people with an ocean of deep rooted hatred between them could ever come together in a union that would bear fruit.

The sickness was the worst. She could not keep food down – the maester had told her to expect this in the mornings, but it plagued her all day long. She felt dizzy whenever she stood, so spent much of her time confined to the bed she shared with her uncle, or sat in the armchair beside the fireplace on the days that she felt strong enough to walk the ten paces it took to get to it from the place where she slumbered.

“Your body must adjust to the new life that grows within,” Orwyle had told her, “give it time and you will feel well again.”

She did not want to give it time. She did not feel in control of her own body, and she hated it. She had spent much of the war feeling entirely helpless, unable to provide support in any meaningful way, and now she was merely a vessel for something that leeched life from her, confining her to the mattress as she emptied the contents of her stomach into a chamber pot.

Her own mother never seemed to suffer any such symptoms, or if she did then she never allowed anyone to see. She wished she could brave this with the same air of dignity as Rhaenyra, however, it seemed everyone was privy to the shame of how ill prepared her body was for pregnancy. She despised the worried gaze of Alicent, the curt enquiries after her wellbeing from Aemond,and the carefully practiced touches of Orwyle as he meticulously examined her. She wanted to scream until her throat was bloody, to push them all away and tell them to leave her to suffer in peace.

She had only bore witness to one of the occasions that her own mother had given birth, and it was a memory that would haunt her always. She had stood in the doorway and watched as she had doubled over, screaming in agony. She had been desperate to run to her, but her feet had remained rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as she had screamed for Daemon and pushed the nursemaids away. 

Rhaenyra had dragged a babe from her body who never even had the chance to draw breath - what would have been her only sister. She had birthed seven children, and still retained her gentle stoicism, her grace and nobility. She was not sure she would ever live up to that.

She placed a hand over her lower abdomen. She had not begun to show, but still the sensation of life growing within her felt strange. What if the torturous beginnings of this were a sign of what was to come? If the seed planted inside of her contained even a little of the darkness that Aemond harboured within his heart, then surely this child would claw and rend its way out of her, intent upon her destruction.

Aemond’s behaviour towards her had changed since learning she was carrying his child. She remembered how tenderly he had placed his hand upon her stomach when he had learned the news, and was shocked when she had looked up into his eye to see it growing misty, as though he was on the verge of tears. Since then, everything he did served to infuriate her.

No longer did he pull her beneath him with desperation and lust in the middle of the night. She had told herself that this was something she simply endured, that she did it because her compliance meant her survival. However, she had grown to crave these encounters, her body yearning for the way he made her tremble apart as he rutted into her. He had not touched her in that way since discovering her condition, and it drove her to near madness and despair the way she ached with arousal for him. She would never dare ask that he sate those desires though. It was a humiliation she would sooner fling herself from the ramparts then face.

When he did touch her, to aid her in sitting up against the pillows, to help her out of bed, or to simply brush the sweat-dampened hair away from her forehead when her bouts of sickness were particularly bad, he did so with the care of someone handling spun sugar. His rough hands felt foreign to her, and were not made for such gentleness. She longed for him to grasp at her, to manhandle her as he once had, not approach her with the apprehension that she might fall apart entirely if he dared to speak too loudly in her presence.

She knew it was out of concern for the child she carried, not her. What she carried in her womb was valuable – the future of the Targaryen dynasty – an assurance that their bloodline would continue on long after they had ceased to draw breath. That worried her for, truly, how long would she continue to draw breath once the child was born? She would have served her purpose, and there would be no point in her being kept around.

This was a question she pondered one evening, as she sat curled in the armchair by the fire, the beginnings of a needlepoint sitting forgotten in her lap. She was starting to feel better, and was able to get out of bed and move around more frequently without feeling dizzy or nauseated. Aemond sat in the armchair opposite hers, stripped to his undershirt and breeches. His legs were stretched out before him, crossed at the ankle, as he cradled a book in one large hand, reading silently.

She cleared her throat, and his eye flickered up to her, holding her gaze. She wet her lips, gathering the courage to speak. “I–I have been thinking…what will you do…what will happen…to me…once this child is born?”

Aemond’s eye widened, as though surprised by the question, and he paused, not saying anything for several moments before he finally closed his book, setting it down upon a side table and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, you would care for the child, obviously.”

“And then what?” she urged, her blue eyes wide and imploring as she leaned forward slightly.

His brow furrowed, clearly confused by her line of questioning. He stared hard at her, a look in her eye she could not quite place, as though beseeching her to return it. When she continued to gaze blankly at him, he shrugged. “Well, an heir must have a spare, I suppose.”

Aemond then picked up his book once more and continued to read, putting an end to the discussion. If anything, his attempt at reassurance had clouded her mind with more worry. The notion of being used as breeding stock for multiple heirs was not something she was fond of. Her ambitions as a girl were not lofty – she simply wanted to marry a man that she loved, and have children that were happy, born from the tenderness of a union of parents that doted on each other. She had had no such stability growing up, so had cleaved to the idea of it as she had gotten older.

It was why she was never able to commit to giving Cregan children.

The night that Aemond had taken her maidenhead, she had not run to her mother; she knew Rhaenyra would have acted in her best interests, and treated her with sympathy, however, there would also have been the silent judgement cast upon her for behaving so foolishly, for disgracing herself. She idolised her mother and did not want her to think less of her only daughter. Instead, she had turned to Baela. She knew that Baela’s upbringing on Driftmark had been a wild one – the approach that Rhaenys and Corlys took to child rearing was freer than most, and so her stepsister had been able to entertain the company of men unnoticed. As such, she was well versed in moon tea and did not ask questions when the younger girl had come  tearfully to her and asked her to show her how to make it.

It was a recipe she had memorised – tansy in boiled water, pennyroyal, and a drop of honey to take away the bitter taste. When she had learned that she was to be sent North with Jacaerys, and offered as a bride for Cregan Stark, she had made sure to take a stash of the ingredients with her, knowing that it was unlikely that they were easy to come by in the unforgiving climate of Winterfell. It was not that Cregan was unkind to her – he was as considerate of her as she could have hoped him to be – but she did not know him. They had lain together less than half a dozen times before he was called south with his Winter Wolves, never to return again. It made her glad that she had chosen to drink moon tea each time they were intimate – she had no wish to carry a dead man’s child. She resented that her only part in the war was a pawn to be traded, breeding stock wanted only for the Valyrian blood that coursed through her veins. She envied Jacaerys and Baela, both able to participate in the war on dragonback. Though she was not certain that if she had a dragon of her own that she would have the stomach to involve herself – she had never had a taste for violence. She hoped that if she avoided pregnancy, when the war was over, Cregan would release her from their marital bonds and she would be allowed to return to her family. That day never came, and when she was called away from Winterfell it was at the behest of Alicent and into the lair of the people who had wiped out all those that she held dear. 

The ill effects of her early pregnancy had mostly subsided, the only reminder of the child she carried was a slight full feeling to her lower abdomen – similar to what she experienced when she overindulged on lemoncakes at tea time. It was freeing to be able to move about the Keep once more, and she made her way to the nursery, eager to see her younger brothers. When she had first arrived back in King’s Landing, Alicent had insisted upon being present for every interaction with Aegon and Viserys, alongside a guard. It was as though she feared that without adequate supervision, she would whisper poison into the children’s ears and turn them against her. She would have every right to, but she wished for her younger siblings to never know such ugliness. Their short lives had been unsettled enough. Since learning of her pregnancy, Alicent had been more amenable and her visits with the boys were now less of a formality, with usually only a nursemaid present.

She sat cross legged upon the floor. Aegon, Viserys and Jaehaera mirrored her position, the four of them forming a small circle on the plush patterned rug of the nursery. She smiled, watching as Viserys moved a wooden dragon through the air, extending his chubby arm above his head as he made whooshing noises. Aegon groused as Viserys collided the toy with his shoulder and turned to his brother with a scowl.

“Grandmother said to stop doing that!” he scolded with a soft pout.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. Both of their grandmothers were dead. What could he possibly mean?

Slightly older than both boys, and mature for age, Jaehaera seemed to pick up on her discomfiture. Her grey eyes were gentle as they met hers, her voice soft and dreamy, just as Helaena’s had been. “They mean Alicent. She asked that they call her that.”

The admission took her breath away, and she faltered slightly, blinking rapidly as she struggled to compose herself. “Oh,” was all she was able to choke out.

Jaehaera placed a small hand on top of hers, the knuckles still dimpled with the plumpness of youth. She smiled softly, lifting her eyes once more to meet the little girl’s. She and Aemond shared the same blood – surely if this family could produce something as pure as this then there was some hope for the child she carried.

The four of them looked up in unison as the wooden double doors pushed open and Aemond strode through them. He did not acknowledge any of them, instead he addressed the nursemaid seated by the window, who had been quietly sewing buttons back onto one of the boys’ doublets.

“Watch the children,” he commanded, “I have need of my wife.”

He crouched down, offering out his hand towards her. Though she resented being spoken about as though she was not there, and treated as though she had no say in the matter – truthfully, she did not – she accepted his hand anyway. He cradled her lower back with his free hand as he helped her to her feet – the gentleness akin to how one might hold a baby bird. It made her want to scream, “I am not infirm, stop this!”

Even the gait of his walk was changed; as they moved along the corridor of Maegor’s Holdfast side by side, he slowed his pace, so that she would not have to walk too fast to keep up with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, peering up at him as they descended a stone staircase.

“I am hearing petitions from the smallfolk today. I would like my queen by my side,” he explained evenly, not sparing her a glance as he continued to walk.

She pulled to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, her brows pulling together as apprehension settled over her. “It is the king who hears petitions. A queen need not be present.”

Aemond rounded on her with a sigh, his irritation barely concealed as he reached for her, encircling her delicate wrist in his large hand. “I want you there,” he insisted, “you expressed…doubts about your future, and I want to reassure you that your place as queen is one that is secure.”

She was too stunned to speak, and simply allowed herself to be pulled along, falling into step with him once more. His fingers did not release her wrist until they reached the doors to the Great Hall. Attendants waited outside, each holding a red velvet cushion with their respective crowns resting atop them. Aemond’s was the iron and ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, previously worn by his older brother. Hers was the golden angular circlet that Daemon had crowned her mother with – it had once sat atop her grandfather’s head. She had not worn it since their wedding day. She disliked how heavy it felt, certain it did not suit her as much as it had Rhaenyra, who was born to wear it.

As they descended the steps of the throne room, she briefly wondered where she would be placed - the Iron Throne loomed so large it would look ridiculous to place another chair next to it. Then she spotted it; the low cushioned stool placed at the foot of it. She was to sit at her husband’s feet while he held court, presented as a prized trophy. It was not the place of a queen, it was an outward display of the fact that she was regarded as lower in station to him, a means to publicly declare her as subservient. Her skin flushed scarlet with humiliation, she longed to turn and flee from the room, but Aemond placed a hand at the small of her back, urging her forward, misinterpreting her reaction.

“It’s alright,” he soothed quietly, “you will not be expected to say anything. It will cheer the people to see their queen.”

“Would it though?” she thought. The Crown had caused such destruction, she could not imagine the people they ruled over being pleased to see them at all.

Aemond took his place upon the throne, and she lowered herself onto the stool, her head level with his knee. She had to lean forward slightly to prevent the blades of the throne from digging into her back. It was uncomfortable, and she hoped there would be few people here to petition her uncle, so that they could get this over with.

The guards opened the doors, and slowly people were filed in, ushered inside by the kingsguard. Once they had gathered, they were invited one at a time to step forward and ask favours of the crown, to settle disputes, to seek permission. Most of it was incredibly dull, and she could feel her eyes growing heavy as people complained about stolen livestock, requested that the curfew in Fleabottom be lifted and reported that the City Watch was doing nothing to prevent thefts from market stalls across the city. Aemond listened to all with a brisk air of impatience, his answers curt and final.

A heavy set man with a closely cropped black beard stepped forward, his dark eyes filled with malice as he stared up at Aemond. “Your dragons destroyed my farm in the midst of the war,” he explained, gesticulating with clear agitation, “I demand to know what you will do to give me back my livelihood.”

Aemond clicked his tongue, utterly unruffled by the farmer’s displeasure. His voice was soft as silk as he replied: “many unfortunate sacrifices had to be made to protect the line of succession. It is important that we use our valuable time and resources to fortify the city, to replenish our weapon stocks and commence trade across the narrow sea once more. To rebuild we must focus on matters that are for the good of the entire realm, not just individuals.”

The man seethed, his nostrils flaring as he took a step forward, causing the entire kingsguard to grasp the hilts of their swords. “Was it the realm you thought about when you burned all of the Riverlands to ash?” he demanded, spittle flying from his mouth with the force of his thunderous shouting. “And what was it for? You have placed a bastard upon the throne alongside you anyway.”

Aemond leaned forward, his voice a serpentine hiss as he grasped the arms of the throne. “What did you say?”

The man hesitated slightly, a flicker of fear casting uncertainty in his eyes, before he pulled himself tall. “I said your queen is a bastard. A whore.”

Quicker than she could blink and register his movements, Aemond was out of the throne and off of the dais, a feline quality to the swiftness and fluidity with which he carried himself. He drew his sword and in one singular motion, sliced through the man’s neck. His body fell, heavy as a sack of grain to the stone floor, while his head rolled off to the side, stopping only when it thudded against the boot of one of the kingsguard. There were shocked gasps and shouts, people scrambling to get out of the throne room, while others pushed forward to get a closer look. She focused on none of it, looking only at the thick rivulets of blood that had begun to run between the cracks in the stones, flowing towards the dais. She had reflexively jerked backwards and now the blades of the throne poked her painfully in the back. She was too stunned to move away from it. Instead, she was brought back to the day when Vaemond had dared to insult her mother and suffered a similar fate at the hands of Daemon. She had never imagined such violence would ever be executed for her sake. Had Aemond really done that for her?

Gloved hands gripped the tops of both of her arms, and it was not until her feet touched the floor that she realised that two knights had lifted her from her seat. They crowded against her, shielding her from the view of the gore that lay strewn upon the floor, as if she had not already seen it, and escorted her back to the chambers she shared with Aemond.

Once the doors were closed, and she was alone, she realised how badly she was trembling. The room was quiet – too quiet – she could hear how heavily she breathed. And she could feel something – a dull cramping in her lower belly and a wetness between her thighs. How long had that been happening for while she was too stunned to notice?

A whine bubbled up from within her, anguished and animal-like as it tore its way out of her throat. Hastily, she rucked up her skirts, shoving her hand into her smallclothes, already knowing what she would see upon her fingers when she pulled them back up for inspection.

The blood glistened red and angry looking upon her skin. Her only thoughts as she looked hopelessly at it were “I want my mother.”

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[cherie-doll]

Cod men’s kids getting the t shirt that says “DILF devoted involved loving father” for father’s day/their birthdays

The men’s reaction?

DADDY'S HOME

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

:‹ Price would be surprised to find out that his kids bought him something at all. They're so young he expected to only be handed a handmade card that read "Happy Father's Day" in squiggly handwriting. He's so happy he doesn't even really read what the shirt says until he's looking at it closer. He likely doesn't even know what other meaning DILF has so he will proudly wear that shirt for a week STRAIGHT before one of the guys points it out. Then he's chuckling to himself thinking that you must've had some say in the picking of the gift.

:‹ Simon immediately lights up knowing his kids got him something, although he doesn't know how to show that excitement. His eyes zero in on the box being carried by his son while you and your daughter watch expectantly. He doesn't know how to act as he waits to be handed the gift and has to clear his throat multiple times in the meantime. He unboxes the gift and... his eyes widen. The kids can't grasp the reaction of their parents, Simon is rolling his eyes and you can't stop laughing. He loves it though, and now you must deal with him wearing it every time you go out as a family.

:‹ Johnny was so hyped to get home when he found out from you that the kids had something planned for him. He receives the shirt and is already acting all sappy saying crap like "awww, you didn't have to" and proudly holds it up to his chest and asks how it looks on him. You have to turn around to keep from laughing but assure him it looks great. Even once he sees what's written on the shirt he still thinks it's the best thing his little ones could have gifted him.

:‹ Kyle in front of the kids would simply act all blown away but once he turns the corner he's chasing you down asking if you had any say in this. "You gave them the idea, didn't you?" He can't believe you played this prank on him at the expense of the children's good intentions, how dare you??? (Not like he's made worse jokes using the kids as a shield from you). Overall, since it's from his little blessings he'll play his part of a loving father like the shirt says and wear it to their hearts' content.

:‹ Roach feels so touched that he's getting a gift. The poor guy might want to shed a tear when he sees how carefully wrapped and decorated the gift is. He can tell you let the kids decorate the giftbox because of the amount of stickers stuck all over it and the messily tied ribbon to top it all off. Of course his emotional reaction is interrupted when he sees what the shirt says. He reads the "DILF" part multiple times thinking he must be dyslexic but then you tell him to read the rest in small font. He resumes his crying.

:‹ Alejandro knows all too well something may be up. They are his kids after all, he taught them one too many tricks and it may be coming back to bite at him for doing so. Either way, he can't deny it makes his heart feel something when they so innocently hand the shirt over. At first, it doesn't even click until he, like the dad he is, looks up the shirt to see how much it was and in the search suggestions sees "dilf meaning"...

:‹ Rodolfo does not know anything about this. He just sees it as a beautiful gesture from his children and is so touched by it he's furrowing his eyebrows and squinting trying not to show his teary eyes. He hears the giggles and laughter the kids are trying to keep in. He gives you a look like, "what's going on?" and you just shrug your shoulders pretending not to know. You only have an inkling of what may be happening but you don't let on the possibility of what it could be. In the end they don't tell him what is really means.

:‹ Phillip found out what the kids were planning because they had used his online shopping account to buy the shirt so he got the notification. Still, to not ruin their excitement he pretended to be surprised for the camera being pointed at him to catch his reaction as he held up the shirt. His eyes find yours and he can't tell who the kids got their mischief from; you or him. But he loves this shirt so much he's wearing it every time you go out as a family.

:‹ Makarov is like old or just really out of the loop to not know what DILF actually means so he doesn't get why you're snickering so damn much. Are you mocking the adorable act of love his kids prepared for him? No of course you wouldn't, you'd have to explain to him and the kids would all have to go scurrying if they don't want to be caught by him. In truth, he cherishes this dumb shirt so much and will wear it under his suit when he's in a rush and forgets what he has on under.

:‹ Keegan thinks that compared to the gifts he's seen the kids get you, he should be at least given a gift card or something but they just handed him a shirt not even wrapped up or anything. He shrugs it off and is so confused on why you keep telling him if he's gotten it yet, gotten what? Is there a joke he isn't understanding? Even after you try to explain it to him he's like.. "yeah... so I've been a dilf all these years.. devoted involved lov- oh". Then he swears it's one of the most clever and best gift he's ever gotten.

:‹ König would look so good in one of those shirts it would make you go feral for that man because he is a DILF through and through. The kids bought it for him because he truly is a devoted to raising them, involved in all of their activities and loves them more than anything in this world. To you, he is also the 'other' definition of DILF. His innocent reaction has you biting your lip back to keep from laughing for he's too precious, and frankly you don't want to ruin that for him with your thoughts.

:‹ Horangi is holding onto that title and NOT LETTING IT GO. The kids are clinging to his side eager to see his reaction while you walk forward with the box in hand. (Btw, you look absolutely angelic in Horangi's vision right now, like this exact scenario with his kids around him and you coming to him, smiling and everything. God, he's all starry-eyed in this moment.) He picks up on the mischievous little smiles his kids give one another and half expects for something to pop out and scare him the moment he opens the box. He stares confused at the shirt for a moment before he bursts out laughing. He's wearing that everywhere with sunglasses on.

:‹ Nikto would just nod and say thanks for the shirt so his kids automatically assume he didn't like it but you can tell he loves it. Finally all that hard work of waking up late at night to change diapers and helping them with their math homework paid off, right? He's just thankful they thought of giving him something, even if it's a lame shirt. He will wear it every weekend when the kids are around the most so that they see him clearly loving his gift. Doesn't care if you laugh because he doesn't mind being the cause of your amusement.

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: jack has baby fever. that it. that’s the tweet

jack abbot x nurse reader

warnings: hospital setting, talks of injury, talks of children, jack down bad, suggestive language, milf and dilfs in training

your night hadn’t been anything special at work just the standard trying to get beds cleared up, that was until a mother walks in with her three year old and a 10 day old baby. her three year old had fallen out of his bed and bumped his head in the middle of the night. the mother looked so exhausted and there was no dad in sight.

you slide open the curtain to get a bit of history, administer some children’s tylenol and take the toddlers vitals. talking to the mom you find out the new baby was born over a video call as her husband was deployed right now and couldn’t get home, she had clearly been running on fumes, she has help usually during the day but at night is when it’s really hard for her. ellis comes in to assess and decides that a ct should be ordered just in case. the mom is clearly torn about being with her toddler and her new baby. you take a look down at the baby sleeping in the car seat and before you can even think about it your offering. “i can watch her so you can be with him?” the mom thinks about it before she’s nodding with a “sure”

you take the car seat back to the nurses station and put it down on the desk next to you, and get to work on some charting. the baby starts to squawk letting you know she’s not pleased with something so you don’t hesitate to unbuckle her from the car seat and pick her up to soothe her, she settles falling asleep on your chest so you get back to work. you don’t feel his eyes on you while you do.

ellis and walsh come up to the nurses station. “girl your exploding ovaries over here” ellis says. “yeah especially abbot’s” walsh jokes. you look up at her with a roll of your eyes “yeah, right. it’s not me it’s the baby. she’s so good for a newborn.” and give her a shake of your head. “he has not taken his eyes off of you since you took her out of her carrier” you turn around and chance a look at your husband, and annoyingly the girls were right. he’s looking at you with something extra in his eye. not even looking away while he’s talking to shen about something. you give him a little smile letting him know that you caught him staring again.

everyone leaves you to work with your little assistant still sleeping on your chest. her mom and brother should be back from radiology soon, but not before jack comes over. he’s looking down at you from where he’s standing. “that looks, insanely good on you” you blush at him. “oh yeah? scale of 1 to 10, 10 being that red dress you like so much?” you just started the discussions of having kids of your own, both deciding that the time was right, just needing the biology of it all to be in your favour. he sticks his tongue in his cheek to stop the smile he wants to give you. shaking his head with it.

you notice the toddler and his mom are being wheeled back to the exam room. “i should check if they need anything” jack stops you before you get up. “no you stay i’ve got it”

he walks in and checks in with the mom, she says they’re all good but stops him before he leaves. “who would i talk to about giving our nurse recognition? she made my life so much easier tonight, not by just taking my baby so i could be with him, but she let me vent and ramble about my life and made me feel like i mattered. even though we are in the emergency room this is the most my mind has been at ease in two weeks, and now she’s taking good care of my baby out there, i think if there is anything i can do that can get her something i want to do it.” jack looks out at where you are, now standing and bouncing with the baby. “i can make sure she’s taken care of, we have some peer recognition systems in place. if you want there are patient satisfaction surveys online at the hospital website as well” he turns back to the mom with a nod. “your results should be in soon. just ring the bell if you need anything.”

results come back in and it is just a bump on the little boys head so you’re getting discharge papers all ready and buckling the little girl back into her car seat for her mom, making sure her hat is on and the blanket is tucked around her so that she doesn’t get a chill when they step out into the brisk early morning. your heading to the room with your hands a bit full so jack stops to grab the car seat out of your hands, and you won’t lie watching him carry that is doing something for you, but you have to keep it professional so you head in with the usual “if any thing changes come back to see us” your turning to the little boy “hey buddy do you want a sticker? i have dinosaurs and trucks. he nods and chooses his sticker. “can my sister have one too?” you smile at him “of course why don’t you pick one for her and keep it safe” the mom stands and gets her crew ready to go. “thank you for taking such good care of us” she grabs your hand and gives it a little squeeze. “it is no problem at all. i hope you can get a bit of sleep tonight.” with that she’s heading out the door heading home.

jack turns to you. “you really have to stop that you know” you look at him confused. “stop what?” he looks down in your eyes. “having all that compassion, you’re making the rest of us look bad. that mom all but handed me your next recognition award when i went in to see her” you blush and grumble a bit “seriously i’m just doing my job” he tucks a strand of hair out of your eyes. “i know you are, but you’re really good at it, just like you were really good with that baby.” he couldn’t not bring it up. you smile a bit shyly at him. “jack abbot do you have baby fever?” he laughs at that. “yes, actually i do. really bad. ever since you agreed to have one it’s all i can think about, shifts over in half an hour, lets see what we can do to break the fever” you smack his chest and roll your eyes. “meet you at the desk in thirty and then you are taking me home, i’ll see what i can do about that fever.”

[layaispunk]

OOH OKAY could you write one where reader is trying on bikinis for dbf Joel and things get hot and heavy and he’s an absolute MUNCH?

love your writing!!🫶🏾

spring cleaning with dbf!joel

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

a/n: thankyou to all of you who sent fic requests! i'm working on them one by one. ♡

wc: 1.5k

warnings: unprotected p in v smut, 18+ minors dni, established relationship, dbf!joel (could be any joel you want) age gap not specified, reader does not live with parents, dirty talking, lmk if i missed something pls

Joel had only meant to stop by and fix the damn window.

That was the plan, anyway. Show up, use the tools that were permanently stashed in his truck, tighten a hinge here, swap a pane there.... and go home. Easy.

Except now he was sitting on the edge of your bed, hands planted on either side of his thighs, watching you dig through a little drawstring pouch.

It was just supposed to be spring cleaning. You were going through all of your stuff because you were moving out, and you put two boxes. Keep, and donate. Joel was in your bedroom, surrounded by half-filled boxes and open drawers and clothes you’d been flinging over furniture all afternoon.

You looked up from the pouch with a grin, one of those expressions that always knocked the wind out of him.

“I totally forgot I had these.”

You reached in and pulled out a tiny scrap of bright fabric. Then another. And another.

Joel blinked. "What're those, baby?"

“Bikinis,” you said, laughing, spreading them across the bed. “God, I used to collect these. I haven’t worn half of them since college.”

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His eyes caught on a black one with gold rings at the hips, and his brain short-circuited a little.

You looked over at him, casual as anything. “Should I just donate all of them?”

Joel cleared his throat. “I mean… seems like a lot.”

“I should try them on first,” you said thoughtfully, holding one up to your chest. “See if they still fit or if I still like 'em.”

He gave a small, helpless laugh. “I think that's a good idea, sweetheart,”

You turned, already walking toward the bathroom. “Yeah. D'ya wanna be the judge of which ones I keep?”

His head tilted. “Oh, is that how this is gonna go?”

You smirked over your shoulder. “You did offer to help today.”

“Didn’t know that meant sittin’ here helpin' you spring clean,” he grumbled, but his eyes were already following you. Your hips swaying just a little more exaggerated as you disappeared around the corner.

When you came back out, you were in a red two-piece that Joel immediately knew would be etched into his memory until the day he died. It was the kind with a halter top and those little low-rise ties at the hips. It looked like summer and sex and trouble, and suddenly Joel wasn’t sure if he was breathing properly.

You twirled, hands on your hips. “Too much?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

Your lips curved. “Joel.” You stepped closer. He let his gaze travel, slow and deliberate, over your bare thighs, your stomach, the soft curves of your chest. When his eyes met yours again, they were darker. Hungrier.

“Well?” you asked, coy. “Keep or donate?”

He gave the faintest shake of his head. “Darlin', if you think I’m lettin’ you give that away, you’ve lost your mind. It really suits you.”

You bit your lip, barely able to hide the way your body lit up under his stare. “Want me to try the next one?”

He nodded, voice low. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right here.”

Right here. On your bed. Palms getting sweatier by the second. Heart thudding like he was twenty years younger and hadn’t already spent countless nights with you.

He adjusted how he sat, legs a little wider, eyes fixed on the doorway as you turned to disappear again. He tried to look casual, like he wasn’t dying inside. Like he hadn’t just watched his girl stroll out of the bathroom like she belonged on the cover of a vogue magazine.

You were gone for less than a minute before your voice floated in from the bathroom.

“You better not be falling asleep out there.”

He huffed out a laugh. When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, he looked up and went completely still.

This one was different, black and white polka dots. The top had better structure, cupping your breasts just right, giving you that kind of shape that made his mouth go dry. The thong bottoms were black, sitting high on your hips and left your legs bare all the way up.

You stood there in the doorway, adjusting the strap over your shoulder like you didn’t know what you were doing.

Joel leaned back a little and exhaled through his nose. “That one’s trouble.”

You tilted your head, giving him puppy eyes. "You don’t like it?”

He gave a small shrug. “Didn’t say that.”

You smiled. “You’re allowed to have an opinion, you know. That’s why you’re here.”

“Thought I was here to fix your window,” he muttered.

You walked further into the room, standing a few feet in front of him. “Yeah, but you already fixed that. So now you're helping me.” You grinned.

He let his eyes trail up, slow and unhurried, until they met yours again. “Mm. Should’ve charged you extra.” He muttered, sarcastically.

“For what?”

“For this.”

You snorted. “You’ve seen me naked before, Joel.”

“I know,” he said, nodding. “Still feels like you’re settin’ me up.”

You folded your arms. “How?”

“You're showin' me bikinis and askin' which ones to keep, but they all look like that. What exactly am I supposed to say?”

You raised a brow. “That it fits?”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees again. “It fits.”

You bit your cheek to keep from smiling. “Comfortably?”

He gave you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you’re wearin’ a piece of string for the bottoms. There's no way that's comfortable."

You laughed, turning around to check yourself in the mirror behind him. Joel couldn't stop staring at you.

“I think this one makes my boobs look better,” you said thoughtfully.

The bikini looked good, but you couldn’t decide if it felt right. If you liked the cut. If it made your hips look weird. If the color washed you out.

Joel was still sitting on the bed, hands braced behind him, watching you with that quiet look he always had when you got like this. Overwhelmed. When your brain spun out in circles and you couldn’t settle on a damn thing.

“That one’s a yes,”

You turned to him with a frown. "Joel, If you're gonna say yes to all of them, I’m gonna end up keeping every bikini I’ve ever owned.”

Joel gave a half-shrug. “Baby, I'm sorry. I think you look incredible in all of them.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and turned back toward the mirror. “I just… I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore. I've been getting rid of things all day, I can't decide anymore."

His voice came quieter this time. “C’mere.”

You looked over your shoulder.

“I mean it. Come here.”

You hesitated for a second, then stepped over to the bed, standing between his knees. Joel watched you for a beat, his hands resting loosely on his thighs.

“Sit,” he pointed to his lap.

With a soft huff, you eased yourself onto him, your thighs settling on either side of his. Joel shifted slightly, accommodating your weight, hands coming up to rest gently on your hips.

You let your arms drape over his shoulders, your chest still rising and falling a little faster than usual from the back-and-forth with yourself. Joel’s gaze flicked up to meet yours.

“Better?”

You nodded slowly. “I'm overthinking everything. I know I sound dramatic, but I feel exhausted.”

His thumbs brushed a slow arc along the curve of your waist. You let yourself breathe a little easier in his care. "I understand, baby. You've been cleaning around all day." The contact, the warmth of him, the quiet way he listened without rushing you, grounded you.

Your hand slipped up into his hair, absently scratching your nails along his scalp. Joel closed his eyes at the feeling, his chest rising beneath you in a deep, slow breath.

You stayed like that for a moment, just breathing together. Just his arms around you and the quiet.

Then you said, softly, “I need a break.”

Joel opened his eyes again. “Then take one, baby. I’m right here.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth.

Your hand slipped from his hair to his jaw, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. You kissed him properly now, soft, slow, lips barely parted.

Joel’s hand tightened on your waist. “You sure?” he murmured, voice low, eyes not leaving yours.

You nodded. “I just want to feel good for a minute. Want you to make me feel good."

His forehead pressed to yours. “Then I got you.”

Joel’s hands slid up your back, slow and warm, before trailing back down to your hips. He kissed you deeply, with his hand cupping the back of your neck like he wanted to hold you still for a second, keep you grounded in him.

“Lay back for me,” he said, voice low and steady. “Just let me take care of you.”

You moved without hesitation, easing onto your back on the bed. Joel followed, kneeling between your legs, hands already on the drawstrings at your hips.

He glanced up once, gaze catching yours, waiting for any sign to stop. When you didn’t give one, he tugged slowly, the little bow slipping free.

He dragged the thin string down your legs with that a gentle touch, then he pushed your thighs apart and settled in between them like he belonged there.

“Just relax, baby,” he said, kissing the inside of your thighs, higher and higher. His hands held you firm, thumbs pressing just enough to spread you open.

You breathed out shakily, head tipping back into the pillow as he kept going, mouth trailing up your thigh like he was in no rush at all. One hand slid up your stomach, slow and steady, until his palm cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in lazy circles that made your hips shift, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Joel…” you murmured, voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.

He smiled against your skin, his beard scratching gently at your thigh. “Mm? Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

“You’re teasing me,” you said, a little breathless.

“Yeah, honey, I am,” he said, kissing the curve where your thigh met your hip. “You been runnin’ around all day, stressin’ yourself out… Thought I’d slow things down for you a little. Let you breathe.”

Your hips shifted toward him, aching for more and needing him closer. "Joel. Please.”

He looked up at you through his lashes, lips still pressed to your inner thigh. His voice was low and steady, thick with want. “You don’t need to beg, baby. I’m gonna give you what you need.”

His hands smoothed along the tops of your thighs, firm and steady as he settled in lower. "You just relax for me now,” he said, voice darkening just slightly. “Let me take care of this perfect little pussy, yeah?”

Your breath hitched, thighs twitching under his grip. Joel pressed a kiss right over your center, slow and steady. You whimpered softly, hips lifting, and Joel just groaned against you.

“Jesus,” he muttered, half to himself. “You’re soaked, baby. That for me?”

You nodded, fingers curling into the sheets.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “Been sittin’ on my lap lookin’ like that, all soft and pretty… You knew what you were doin’, didn’t you?”

His voice was all gravel and heat now, words brushing against you like a caress. “Gonna make you come on my tongue, sweetheart. Not stoppin’ till you’re beggin’ me to.”

And finally he leaned in, and his mouth was everywhere, like he wanted to memorize the way you sounded, the way your body moved beneath him, how your hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer.

His tongue dragged slow and deep through your folds, his hands teasing your nipples, as he groaned against you. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and rough between licks. “Just like that, baby. You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you moan for me.”

Your hips rolled toward his mouth, needing more, and he let you use him like that, his hands firm on your thighs.

“Could have you like this for hours. Don’t even think I’d stop.” You whined, fingers tangling tight in his hair.

“Look't you,” he said, lifting his head just barely, his mouth slick and lips pink. “All worked up from my tongue. You needed this, didn’t you?”

You nodded, breathless.

Joel ducked back down, his mouth sealing over you again, and without warning you felt one thick finger slip inside you, then another, slow and careful.

You gasped, your whole body jolting. Joel moaned like it turned him on just to feel how tight you were around his fingers.

“Yeah, there you go,” he rasped, his fingers curling just right as his mouth moved with purpose. “So fuckin’ tight, baby. You're takin’ my fingers so well.”

His pace picked up just enough to make you squirm, the push of his fingers matching the soft suck of his mouth. He was everywhere, relentless and still somehow gentle, reading every sound that came out of you like it was a guidebook to your pleasure.

“Let go for me,” he murmured again. “Come on my fingers. Let me feel how bad you needed this.” Your thighs were trembling now, chest rising fast, lips parted as little gasps and moans slipped out without filter.

Joel’s fingers never lost rhythm. Slow, firm curls, each one dragging right against that spot that made your vision blur. His mouth moved with purpose, tongue working you over like he’d studied exactly how to pull you apart.

You felt it building, tight and fast, curling low in your belly and your hand gripped his shoulder like you were holding on for dear life.

“Joel,” you gasped. “Joel, I’m—”

He lifted his head just enough to say it against your skin, voice rough and steady.

“That’s it. Give it to me, baby. Come for me.”

That pushed your orgasm over the edge. Your whole body tensed, a moan breaking from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Joel slowed a little bit, coaxing you through it, fingers still moving while his lips kissed your inner thigh, murmuring soft praises into your skin.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he breathed. “So goddamn perfect like this. Let me feel it. Just like that.”

Your head collapsed on the pillow, thighs still twitching, chest pressed to his shoulder.

He pulled back slowly, fingers sliding out, slick with your release. "You alright?” he asked softly, voice gentler now.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Want you up here.”

"You want my cock now, baby? You got me fuckin’ rock hard," he murmured, voice rougher now." His hands tightened on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles over your skin.

After he got undressed, with one firm hand he lined himself up carefully before sliding in, every inch sending fire through you both.

He began to move, slow at first, making your eyes roll back. "Fuck, Joel." He caught your moan in his mouth, biting your lower lip gently before pulling back just enough to whisper, "Gonna fuck you real nice and slow, baby,"

His hips rolled into yours with more force, every thrust deep, while his hands explored your body like he was memorizing every curve.

“You like that, don’t you? Feel so damn good wrapped around me.” he rasped, voice thick with desire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, arching your back as he drove deeper, slower, each thrust measured to build you higher.

“Come on, let go for me,” he urged, “You like that, don’t you? Feel so good wrapped around me.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, arching your back as he drove deeper, slower, each thrust measured to build you higher.

“Come on, let go for me,” he urged, voice rough and low, “Let me hear you, sweetheart." The coil inside you tightened, heat spreading fast until you shattered around him, trembling and gasping. Joel held you through it, hips still grinding steady, until his own breath hitched and a deep growl rumbled from his chest.

With one last slow, deep thrust, he followed, gripping you tight and burying himself fully as his release rolled through him. He collapsed against you, forehead resting on your shoulder, voice softer.

Joel pulled back just enough to smile at you. “You keep me busy.”

You nudged him lightly. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

He chuckled. “Nope. Lucky me.”

You rested your head on his chest, feeling h heartbeat.

Joel’s hand moved slowly over your back. “Want to rest? I’m here.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just want you to stay a little bit longer.”

He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

ty for reading<3 requests are open!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

MICHELLE PFEIFFER- J. TODD

day fourteen of the june bug masterlist

pairing: older! mechanic! jason x innocent! fem reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: your car starts acting funny in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service or tow trucks in sight. you do the only thing you can do- wave now the nearest truck and pray for the best. luckily, your prayers are answered, because the man helping you turns out to be jason todd, a mechanic whose pretty... good with his hands.

warnings: SMUT! smuttiest of the smut, heavy praise kink, pet names, not manipulation per say (maybe a little but its jason todd who cares he can do whatever he wants to me) - but a power imbalance? (reader really has to rely on jason), daddy kink, finger sucking, degration/ heavy dumbification, manhandling and huge size kink

i was rlly horny when i wrote this lol. but im proud and happy with it :)

 “and everythings easier way out west, wholly mad and half undressed, i love the way it always feels to miss you. i tell all my friends everything you do, a sick obsession that i still try to prove- and but it's no good, cause who am i without you?”- michelle pfeiffer, ethel cain 

This was probably one of the worst things that could be happening at this very moment.

And of course, it had happened to you.

Here, all alone- in the hot summer heat, your tire gone flat. On the hottest day of the year, barely a tree for shade and your car already low on gas- you realized you had hit a new all time low.

Tears spilled out from the corners of your eyes, the humid wind brushing them away as you stepped out of the car- pulled off on the side of the road.

You had a spare tire- but you didn't know how to put it back on.

Needless to say, you could try.

There was no cell service out here to call for any means of help, as you were in the deep country, surrounded by hay bales and brush.

Your lower lip quivered, and you braced a hand on the car, as if your touch could magically fix the issue. You had to be a big girl, and figure this out yourself, you told yourself- but god you just wanted to sob more than anything.

Then- as if God himself had heard your call- a truck came up over the bend- leaving a trail of dust in its wake. All you could think to do was stand on your tippy toes, trying to get the driver's attention as you waved.

Please. Please stop.

And he slowed.

You could just make out his figure, tall and large, built of solid muscle. He looked strong. He could lift the tire, knowing damn well you couldn't by yourself.

His truck engine sputtered to a halt as he parked behind you, and you were so relieved you started to cry again. He stepped out, streaks of grey in his darkened hair, tattoos snaking around biceps that were the size of your head.

He was old enough to be your father. But his eyes were so pretty, all warm and coaxing as he approached you, as if you were a startled dog.

“Hey sweetheart what's going on?”

His gaze instantly dropped when he got close enough to see the tears staining your cheeks, rushing to place a hand to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Awh little fawn don't cry. Shh, shh it's alright. What's going on? Why are you here all by yourself?” he asked softly, as you tried to pull yourself together.

“I was just driving and I just- my car-”

”Hey, hey calm down. It's okay. I promise.” he smiled and you nodded, wiping your fresh tears.

“I got a flat tire and I don't know how to put on the new one. And it's too heavy for me to grab and I just-”

You sighed, trailing off, kicking the ground.

“Well you’re in luck, fawn, I happen to be a mechanic. M’ Jason. Jason Todd.” he rubbed your arms in a soothing motion, forcing you to look up at him, staring into his intoxicating blue eyes.

“I’m Y/N. Thank you, so, so much Mr. Todd.”

“Oh god don't call me that. You make me sound old. I don't need reminders.” he teased, making you giggle.

“There's that pretty smile. See? It's alright fawn. Let me just get your spare, okay?”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him do his thing. He was so large he seemed to tower over your little camino, lifting the tire with ease from the trunk. You watched in awe as he hoisted it up onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

A drip of sweat trickled down his bicep, tracing the ink on his skin and you caught yourself ogling like a cartoon character. You wouldn't be surprised if little hearts fluttered around your head, and you trailed behind him as if he was a fresh pie through an open window.

Stranger danger was a foreign concept today, but honestly, you didn't like to think about that danger.

Everyone was nice, at least you liked to think so. And Jason was super nice.

Stopping to help you fix your car? He just seemed to be the nicest man in the whole wide world.

A cluck of his tongue and a sigh broke you from your lovesick trance, and you peered over his shoulder as he crouched, examining the tire with a shake of his head. “Is everything okay Jason?”

He sighed. “M’afraid not fawn. This tire is no good either.”

“Oh! Well…what's wrong with it?” you asked timidly, trying to get a better look. He blocked your view from the commotion though, sweeping you up with his syrupy voice and southern charm.

“Nothin you need to worry your pretty lil head about darlin. But, I dont think it's safe to drive on. Do you wanna come with me to my shop and we can grab a new one and come back?” he asked, empathy rolling off him in waves you were swept up in.

Why couldn't you trust him? He was nurturing, wanting only the best for you. Plus, wasn't it dangerous for a little girl like you to be out here all alone?

You would be safe with Jason, he was a nice old man who probably just wanted to keep you hydrated and out of the sun- and any bad onlookers who would lure you in their trap.

There was no question to be asked, no second guessing.

You felt yourself nodding, happy and eager for him to lead you, a large hand on your lower back, all warm through the thin fabric of your little white dress.

“Good girl. No more tears, okay? I got you sweetheart.”

·•—–٠✤٠—–•· ·•—–٠✤٠—–•·

“Look at you, pretty lil thing. All those pretty tears.” Jason cooed above you, pounding into your tight cunt so hard you started to see stars.

All that could be heard was his sweet praises and gentle coos, mixed with the sound of skin slapping and your short gasps, and gentle moans. You couldn't help the tears from falling again as he splayed you out on a workbench, dragging you to the edge and splitting you in two.

He was so big and thick you couldn't think straight, and with the pace he was setting- it was as if he had no sign of stopping. You felt his thumb brush away the salty tears as you hiccuped, moaning as he slipped his fingers in your mouth.

You instantly sucked them, pacifying yourself as a means of grounding.

“Atta girl. Daddys gotcha.”

You clenched around him at the name he gave himself, and he chuckled lowly. “Oh you like that, don't you fawn? You like when Daddy takes care of you? Makes things all better, cause you're too lil to figure it out yourself?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed as he thrusted even harder, balls slapping your ass as the bench banged against the wall, making the tools above you jolt.

He had you wrapped around his finger.

That was the plan all along of course. He was always keen to help a stranger, but you? He knew he couldn't leave you, just quite yet.

So yes, he had told you there was an issue when there truly wasn't- but could you blame him? How else was he supposed to take care of you the way you so desperately deserved?

Jason could tell as soon as he saw the quiver of your lip and the anxious fidgeting with the hem of your dress that you had needed this- needed him for a while. And he was more than happy to oblige to your needs.

He watched as your legs started to quiver from pleasure, like a little newborn fawns. His little deer.

A thin line of spit trailed his fingers as he pulled them away, letting your whines and moans get louder. You clawed at his biceps, gripping them tight as his pace refused to falter.

Daddy daddy ohhh- Was all you could muster out, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Yeahhh sweetheart just like that. Grippin me so tight- s’like you were made for me hm? You needed someone to take care of you baby? To split this lil cunt in half like she deserves?”

You nodded absentmindedly as you let the pleasure wash over you- holding onto him as if he were your savour.

He was- your savior. And he’d be damned if he’d let you forget it.

“Gonna cum please daddy can I-”

“Can you? Oh look at you, using your manners without me even reminding you. You’re such a good girl baby, go ahead n cream around this cock lil fawn.”

You cried, wails bouncing off the walls- sounding like sweet music to his ears, as if it was coming from his old radio in the corner he’d whistle a tune to while he worked.

But your sounds were much, much better. So sweet and delicate- your face all contorted in pleasure, nose scrunched, eyes clenched shut as you let go around him.

All he could do was coo at you, his sweet little girl, planting soft kisses to your face. You were so soft and gentle to him on the ride over, thanking him endlessly, clenching your thighs as he dared to slip a hand down to rest on your thigh.

Swooning over him, like a love sick puppy.

He didn't miss the way you stared at him when you thought he wasn't looking. And maybe it was wrong, for him wanting to corrupt such a sweet angel like you, so innocent and eager to do right by him for a simple gesture of kindness.

But he couldn't help himself.

And this? Peering down at the bulge in your stomach from where his cock rearranged your insides?

This was payment, and then some. 

[lovesickchoi]

📁 FILE 04: KANG TAEHYUN

⋆·˚ ༘ * He fixes, he folds, and he fucks like he’s determined to show you just how much he cares. You want nothing more than to return the favor, be the one who takes care of him for once. But Taehyun can't imagine not being of service to you.

✦ Love Language: Acts of Service

pairing: taehyun x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 3.3k

warnings: f!reader, smut, domestic tension, switch but mostly dom!taehyun, kitchen sex, service kink, oral f!receiving, no protection

🗂️ click here to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

Taehyun never said I love you like a normal person.

He said it through tasks, timing, and attention. Always quietly folding the world around you so you never had to ask for anything. And you’d let him.

Truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d lifted a finger in his presence. You were independent when you met him—fiercely so. The kind of person who didn’t trust anyone to do things as well as you could, let alone take care of you. But Taehyun had a way of gently dismantling those walls, brick by quiet brick, until your hands were empty and your burdens shared.

There were meals cooked after long days where you both came home tired and frayed, only he wouldn’t let you touch the stove. Instead, he’d kiss your forehead and force you to sit pretty on the counter so he had a nice view while he worked. And when you were done eating? You wouldn’t dare attempt to help clean up. Not unless you wanted your hands swatted away and Taehyun sprinting upstairs to run you a bath, insisting you “go soak and relax, baby, I’ll join you soon.”

You’d never forget coming home from that terrible day, still raw from an argument with your best friend, and finding the apartment spotless, your clothes folded neatly on the bed, and a bottle of wine breathing on the counter beside your favorite takeout. No questions asked.

You couldn’t even recall the last time you carried your own purse. Traveling? He always found a way to juggle both suitcases without complaint, leaving your hands completely free.

And it wasn’t just the grand gestures. It was in the subtleties. The way his eyes always flicked toward you, searching for anything you might need. How he’d bring you water without being asked. Fix a squeaky cabinet at one in the morning because it annoyed you once. Rearranged his already busy schedule for yours, because stress on your shoulders was unbearable to him.

Not to mention in bed. God, the pillow princess he’d turned you into. Taehyun was as eager to please as he was allergic to being on the receiving end. The concept of letting you take care of him was laughable, sacrilegious, even. He never let you, not once. As if your love was something he didn’t need to feel. Only something he was born to give.

He never asked or expected. He only gave, and gave, and gave. But tonight, you decided to try anyway.

There he was now, creeping into the kitchen to make you a snack because he’d heard your stomach rumble while the two of you curled up in bed mid-movie. When you reached for him, questioning why he paused the TV, he only smiled softly, kissed your temple, and slipped out from under the covers.

For a moment, you lay in the dark listening: the clinking of metal, the click of the stove, the crinkle of packaging. Soon, the savory scent of your favorite instant ramen drifted down the hallway. It pulled you from bed like a thread tied to your chest. And the moment you step into the kitchen, your heart nearly stops.

He’s shirtless, facing away from you as he stirs the pot. The warm overhead light carves golden lines down his back. His shoulder blades shifting with every movement. Sweatpants hang low on his narrow hips, the waistband tugging slightly down on one side. He’s completely unaware of how devastating he looks, and that only makes it worse.

You swallow, mouth watering—and not just because of the ramen.

A few more steps forward and you're wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. Taehyun jumps, slightly startled, then relaxes into your touch with a smile. He sets the chopsticks aside and folds his arms over yours in a welcoming gesture.

"Hi baby," he hums with contentment.

"Hi," you smile into his skin, cheek pressed to the expanse of his back. "Smells good." A soft sigh leaves your lips, warm breath brushing his bare shoulder.

Goosebumps rise across his skin. He can feel the shape of you—your nipples faintly brushing through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, your hips pressing gently to his. He knows without looking that you’re wearing nothing underneath but panties.

Still, he doesn’t move. He lets you hold him. But you? You’re already planning to do more than hold.

Your arms tighten, lips beginning to brush his back. You feel the tremor that runs through him, the tension pooling just beneath his skin. And still, he doesn’t pull away.

You trail your fingers along the firm plane of his stomach carefully, until your palms rest flat over the waistband of his sweats. You don’t dip beneath just yet, instead holding him there like he’s yours to touch.

He draws a controlled breath through his nose. “Baby…” he warns gently, voice catching in his throat.

“I know,” you whisper. “Just... let me.”

You turn him around by the hips, and Taehyun allows it, chest rising now with more visible effort. He leans back slightly against the counter perpendicular to the stove, arms going loose at his sides like he’s trying to prove something to himself and to you. But his eyes are already dark, focused on your mouth intently.

You press a kiss to his sternum. He gulps hard. Another kiss to the edge of his collarbone. And then, finally, you tilt your face up and catch his mouth with yours.

It starts sweet, nothing but melted sugar and warmth. His lips move slowly, savoring the feeling as he holds himself back.

But then your hands slip to the sides of his neck, pulling him deeper, angling his head how you want him. Your tongue drags against his with hot need. You kiss like you’ve forgotten what patience even means.

Taehyun moans softly against your lips, involuntarily. You feel his knees bend slightly, as if his whole body wants to follow yours.

You pull back, just enough to murmur, “Sit for me.”

Before he can question it, you gently push him toward the chair at the kitchen table.

He stumbles back a step and halts. His brows twitch with uncertainty. You watch the flicker in his expression: a flash of confusion and resistance. He’s never been the one sitting like this. He doesn’t really know how.

But you step forward, crowding him slowly, guiding him with your hands on his waist like you’re offering him something for once instead of taking. The backs of his legs hit the chair.

You don’t force him down, you just press lightly. He lets out a breath and finally sits.

For a second, Taehyun looks bewitched by you in the most gorgeous way. Hair tousled, chest rising and falling too fast, mouth pink and kiss-bitten. His hands clutch the edge of the seat like it’s anchoring him to the earth. Because he really might float away if he doesn’t hold on.

You climb into his lap with reverence, legs folding around him, your hands smoothing over his shoulders. His skin is flushed. His cock presses hard against you through the thin fabric of his sweats, and the friction alone has him sighing like he’s seconds from losing composure.

You kiss him again, filthier this time. Your hips roll forward, just enough to force a strangled noise from him.

“Let me take care of you for once,” you whisper into his mouth.

Your hand snakes its way down Taehyun’s abdomen. He’s so tense it’s almost laughable. He’s fighting within himself, wanting so bad to give in. But it felt unnatural.

“Baby… you don’t have to.”

His eyes are wired shut when he speaks. You don’t even grace him with a response. He sits there, feeling useless, feeling you place your lips in all the right places across his neck and jaw, fingers finding their way to cutely snake into his sweatpants.

But all he can think about is how you’re probably soaked under those panties. How you must be clenching around nothing, begging to be touched. You must want to be cared for, and oh how he wanted it to be him doing it. Suddenly, he can’t get the idea of you whining and cumming at his manipulation out of his mind.

That’s when the panic sets it.

Taehyun huffs, a sharp and frustrated sound that floods your ears, before gripping your waist so suddenly it makes you yelp. His eyes snap open, blown wide with want. So much want it nearly breaks you.

“I can’t,” he says hoarsely. “You don’t get it—I can’t.”

He lifts you with too much ease, standing abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Your legs tighten around him out of instinct. He presses your back to the kitchen table, firm but not rough, breathing hard. His forehead falls against yours.

“I’ll lose my mind if I don’t touch you the way I need to.” His voice is a growl now, trembling with restraint. “You don’t get to make me feel good and expect me to just sit here. That’s not how this works. That’s never been how this works.”

You see it all over him—how badly he wants the pleasure you’re offering, and how violently it clashes with the way he’s wired to love. It’s sexy, yes, but it’s also so deeply revealing you feel it split something open inside you. It's not that he doesn't want it. It's that he simply can't compute it.

His hands roam. One cups your jaw, the other sliding beneath your thighs. He’s already rolling his hips into you, chasing friction like it’s air.

“You’re not supposed to take care of me,” he hisses against your neck. “That’s not—what I’m made for.”

You gasp as his mouth finds the edge of your collarbone, biting gently. His grip on your waist tightens, and just like that, the control is back in his hands.

He rises slightly, pushing your shirt up over your chest to see all of you. Nipples flushed pink and hard with need, black underwear that he picked out already soaked and hugging the outline of your folds. He stares unashamedly like he always does. His hands are rough, tracing you from your ribs to your thighs as if reacquainting himself with your body.

"If I stop giving... and I let you give, it’s like I’ve failed you," he mutters, eyes glazed over with lustful thoughts of you.

While he's too busy eye-fucking you, you take your chance. You sit up slightly, just enough to reach for his cheek, grazing it softly.

“You haven’t failed anything. You love me so well. Let me love you back.” You attempt to bargain.

You rise further, closing the gap between you with a slow kiss, your legs looping around his waist to tug him closer, ankles locked. But he catches your wrist mid-motion, grinning softly, already seeing through your plan. Of course you’d try to flip the script.

But he can't take it anymore, not with your bodies this close. The food sizzles on the stove, but he doesn't care. His desire to serve takes over.

He scoops your thighs into his arms and drags you to the edge of the table, then drops to his knees. Your legs fall open over his shoulders. A breathy moan slips from his lips as he drinks in the new view—now eye level with your dripping cunt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I need to. Please—just let me.”

Your soaked panties cling to you obscenely, a clear outline of want pressed against black lace. He hums low in his chest, the sound nearly guttural.

Taehyun presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, this one open-mouthed and wet, teeth grazing just enough to make you mewl. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs to anchor himself.

He moans just from the scent of you. “Fuck." His voice is muffled, lost in the heat between your legs. “So wet.”

“Oh my god-“ You gasp as his tongue presses flat against the soaked crotch of your panties. Taehyun doesn't bother pulling them aside. No, that would be too simple. He’s decided you’re getting ruined like this: his mouth taking you through the fabric, letting every flick of his tongue sink through cotton and lace to where you need him most, and it works.

Your hips are arching up into him. But he’s relentless, hands sliding up to hold you still, palms splayed across your chest.

“Stay still,” his voice vibrated against you. “Let me do this right.”

He licks you long and slow, savoring the way your arousal has soaked through and made the panties cling to you like a second skin. Every pass of his tongue has your thighs trembling, your hands reaching blindly for something to hold.

You fist his hair. Taehyun groans—really groans—like your fingers pulling at his scalp could make him cum untouched. He presses his face deeper between your legs, nuzzling the soaked fabric as if inhaling you could give him life.

His tongue finds your clit. Even through the damp cotton, it sends a bolt of pleasure tearing through your spine. Your back arches and a cry escapes you. He hums again, pleased, adjusting the angle so he can suck gently, just enough pressure to make your vision blur.

“That’s it, baby,” he inhales deeply. “Give it to me. Let me have all of it.” He exhales just as deeply.

You don’t know if he’s talking about your moans, your pussy, your entire fucking soul, but you let him have it. Maybe this was your way of giving to him.

Taehyun keeps eating, savoring, and drinking you in through the delicate fabric until it's useless and he’s so hard in his sweatpants he could cry. One of his hands leaves your hip to slip between his legs, palming himself through the fabric just for a second, just enough to breathe again.

Then his mouth drags lower, tongue teasing the spot just beneath your entrance through the sheer fabric before returning to your clit. You're writhing now, moaning like a confession, your thighs trying to close in around his head but he won’t let them.

“You're almost there, aren't you?” His voice is noticeably ruined. “Cum for me. I want to feel you shake on my tongue.”

He licks harder, and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a wave. Crashing and sweeping through your entire body until your hands fall from his hair and you’re barely able to breathe, whimpering his name over and over.

Still, he doesn’t stop, not until your hips twitch from overstimulation and your whines turn into helpless little pleas for him to end it. Only then does he pull back, panting, chin glistening, and your panties practically glued to you.

He looks up at you like he’s blessed. This is the only thing he’s ever prayed to.

“Better?” he asks, voice hoarse, lips curled into the faintest, self-satisfied smirk.

You're so busy coming down from your orgasm, about to respond, that you don’t even realize he’s stripped you. Your soaked panties gone along with his boxers and sweatpants, discarded somewhere on the kitchen table.

When you glance down, he’s already between your thighs again, his cock hard against your leg. You’re still catching your breath, body trembling from your orgasm, but his hands are already moving.

He lifts one leg, then the other, hooking the backs of your knees over the crooks of his elbows like he's done plenty of times before. His chest brushes yours, folding you in half on the table, breath warm against your skin as he lines himself up.

“Let me give you more,” he murmurs, every syllable soaking with need. “Let me stay inside you until you forget your own name.”

Then he’s pushing in devastatingly deep. Your breath stutters, your head tilting back as he sinks you down onto him inch by inch. His grip tightens around your thighs, holding you to him while your body opens for him completely.

You can feel every inch of Taehyun. But it’s not just the fullness that makes you a whimpering mess, it’s the way he’s holding you there, pinned to the surface.

“Fuck,” Taehyun exhales, eyes fluttering shut. “You feel—Jesus.”

Your hands reach to grip his neck as he starts to move. Each thrust is so expertly precise. The slow drag out, the firmer press in. His rhythm is just right, but his breath is ragged. You cling to the edge of the table and to him, legs still lifted, knees trembling slightly where they’re slung over his arms.

Taehyun's hands grip your body in a way they've never held you before. And he groans every time he bottoms out inside you.

The kitchen is filled with the slick, inappropriate sound of him moving inside you. The quiet hiss of the stove behind you both now forgotten, noodles cooking past perfect. The smell of ramen and sex drifts through the air.

“Taehyun!” you gasp, head tipping back. This is his favorite view of you.

“Yeah?” he pants, not stopping once. “Say it again.”

You do. Over and over. Not just his name, but everything. What he feels like, how he fucks you, how he makes you feel like no one else ever has. You don’t know what you’re saying anymore. Only that it pours out of you in moans and broken whines.

You feel it building again, this time too fast and way too strong. Your body tenses around him.

He must feel it too, because he drops your legs from his elbows and folds you close, hips never faltering as he hooks his arms around your waist and lifts you clean off the table. You gasp in surprise, clutching his shoulders.

Now it’s chest to chest, his forehead against yours, your legs wrapped tight around his hips. Your nails score his back as he fucks you suspended in the air.

“Come on, baby,” he pleads, voice cracked as he slams you down onto his cock. “Give it to me one more time.”

You shatter for the second time in your little kitchen. This one rips through you harder than before. You cry out, whole body shaking and convulsing around him, just the way he likes.

“Fuckfuckfuck—fuck,” he hisses, every muscle in his body going rigid as he drives into you one last time and cums harder than ever. His hips falter, then still as he pushes in as deep as possible, moaning into your mouth as he buries himself to the hilt.

Silence slowly follows. Beautiful, comfortable silence.

Taehyun doesn’t pull out of you right away. He lowers both of you down slowly, your back landing softly against the now-cleared table. His cheek rests against your thigh, damp with sweat, lips parted as he catches his breath. His arms are still around your waist. You brush a hand through his hair, looking down at him.

“One day, I’ll make you let me take care of you.” You can't help but smile.

He half-laughs and murmurs back, “I'll die trying to stop you.”

You feel the slight ache in his words. Because behind them, you worry Taehyun thinks he’s unworthy of being taken care of by you. That’s the part that guts you.

You sit up just slightly, shifting your weight until you're able to reach the stove. The ramen is still there, now slightly burnt at the edges, thick with overcooked noodles. Laughing quietly, you dish some into a bowl, scooping a bite with your chopsticks and blowing to cool it down. When you turn back and offer it to him, he almost hesitates.

But eventually Taehyun lets you. He opens his mouth, and you feed him. He chews, swallows, then drops his forehead into your neck with a sigh so deep as he relaxes into your warmth.

This is the kind of peace he’s never allowed himself. But tonight, just for a moment, he does for you.

tags: @bunnysoonie @zznblr @another-lemon-tree @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @beestvng @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn @frenziedpiratetrap @gardnhee @txtsdoll @annovaz @morguebounddoll @melmochii @yunhorights @saccharinezennie @gyutaepie @313hwa @tyuncloudreamy @ijustwannareadstuff20 @bamtor1sss @iyoonjh

likes/reblogs/comments always appreciated <3

[sexy-monster-fucker]

No One Has to Know What We Do

Jealous!John Walker x Thunderbolts*!Reader

Summary: Valentina forces the Team to attend a Charity Gala. Tensions are high, especially when you sharing a dance with Congressman Barnes is the talk of the gala. And John has to pretend he is unbothered.

CW: Thunderbolts* spoilers, hidden feelings, mutual pining, reader was involved in the End Game battle/is a former Avenger, Reader is a bit of a tech geek, typical Bucky vs John dynamic, Valentina being a shit (I hate and love her), media coverage, paparazzi being creeps, typical MCU violence, kinda love triangle I guess(?), mild degradation, makeout, fluff, spanking, oral f!receiving, p in v, creampie

a/n: okay I got mouthy with this, but I don't know the last time I dedicated this much time to a single fanfic. I really enjoyed laying out such a detailed story so I hope you enjoy!!! <3

word count:

title track 🎶🥂

~~~

“I have to wear… this?”

Your hands hovered around your torso. Low-cut dress hugging every curve of your body. Flattering. This just was not something you were used to. Tactical gear was usually all you wore. Unable to remember the last time you were this dressed up. Probably Tony’s funeral.

“Don’t be picky. It’s custom tailored for you,” Valentina shrugged with a smile.

No doubting that. The way it perfectly cupped your breasts and ass told you that. Never would some random dress off a rack fit you so well. Unsure how to feel. It was stunning, far more expensive than anything you had ever owned. But you could not help but think of the practicality of it. Skin tight dresses did not give you optimal movement. Especially with the heels Valentina just insisted you wear.

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Valentina sighed, turning to look at you. Head falling softly to the side, snickering, “Other than you having to fight off some bachelors tonight.”

You rolled your eyes hard. Hating Valentina’s obsession with your personal life and relationships. She knew that any press was good press, so of course it excited her to think of the possible headlines that would be plastered everywhere by tomorrow morning. ‘New Avenger spotted leaving party with Congressman!’ It made her heart beat faster. Thinking of all the coverage it would bring for the Team.

“Val,” you chastised. Arms folding over your chest as your brows furrowed. You were no stranger to her games. Setting you all up to have to swat away paparazzi for the next month over this Gala. A charity event for people who lost everything during the blip. A fundraiser that had started off small by a lady in Queens. Blossoming into something bigger with the sponsorship of Happy Hogan. All in honor of the late woman.

“Come on. You’re young. Hot. And single. You really think the boys won’t be dripping off you tonight,” Valentina shimmied her shoulders with her words.

You sighed loudly. Staring yourself down in the mirror. Shifting side to side to get a better look at the fabric of your dress. Valentina really thought she knew it all. While she was mostly correct, you made sure to keep certain personal aspects of your life hidden. Especially from her.

Like your harboring crush on one of your teammates. Super soldier. Gruff. Recently divorced. Cocksure attitude a turn off to most, but not you.

John Walker. Former Captain America. Even if it was only for a few weeks. And he made sure none of you forgot that he was Captain America. Chosen to be. Government’s number one pick. High school football champion. War veteran.

All the things he considered achievements.

Smug attitude was pretty on him. The way his eyes would light up when he made a smart comeback. The soft tug of a smirk on his lips whenever he would watch whoever he taunted get angry.

You liked him this way.

As much as you hated being this dressed up, the idea of the look on John’s face when he saw you made your stomach flutter. His eyebrows would bounce and his lips would softly part, displaying his bottom teeth. Eyes raking down your body, definitely lingering on your chest. And it would make you blush. Probably would not even be able to make complete sentences.

“Hurry up and get your shoes on. Limou will be here in ten,” Valentina stared down at her phone as she snapped her fingers. Exiting your room. Airlocks of your door shutting back. A soft hiss the only sound in the room. You sat on the edge of your bed and closed the straps of your heels. Not accustomed to wearing shoes such as these. Wobbling on your legs like a newborn deer. Strutting across your room until you got the hang of it. Large hooped earrings jingling in your ears. Necklace laying across your collar. Stopping in front of your vanity, leaning over it to look closely at your makeup. A full face. Grand departure compared to the usual mascara and lip balm you wore. False lashes and thick eyeshadow. A matte lipstick accented with a matching gloss. Highlight and contour accented your face. You bared your teeth, seeing the splotch of lipstick on them. Rubbing your finger across your teeth with a little squeak trying to get it off.

Firm knocking on your door made you jump. Thinking maybe time had slipped away from you. “Coming,” you called out to whoever it could be. Flattening your hands on your dress and walking over to the door. Ghosting your hand in front of the reader so that it would open. Expecting Yelena or the return of Valentina. Coming to tell you to hurry along. But instead you were greeted by a taller figure.

Broad chest. Navy blue suit adorning his body. Perfectly accenting his piercing blue eyes. Solid black undershirt, unbuttoned at the top. No tie, only his dirty blonde chest hair peaking out. His dog tags tucked, but the chain was shining. Hugging against his large shoulders. Metals he had been presented from his time in the military pinned to his jacket. Hair slicked back, looking tamer than it ever had in his time on the team. Beard brushed down.

Your chest tightened. Stunned with how handsome he looked. Fluttering long lashes up at him. Holding your arms firm at your sides. Wanting to rub your hands across the expansion of his chest.

John was taken aback by you. Swearing a dress had never fit someone so perfectly. Cleavage reveal just enough for him to take a peak, reverting to his gentlemanly nature and looking past them. His cheeks grew pink for a moment.

Neither of you had outright said how you felt. That made this exchange a little more awkward. Yes, you spent time together. Having movie marathons and cooking for each other. Swearing you had never had a more delectable Chicken Parmesan than John’s. And he was kind to you. Holding doors and offering you his arm as an escort. Glances in crowded rooms lasting longer than they normally would. Neither of you wanting to seem desperate.

But it just made things… difficult.

A game of cat and mouse to see who would crack first. Finding yourselves doing things to make the other mildly jealous. Wearing far too short shorts when walking around the tower, even into the crowded screening room with the other three males of your team. And John would always make sure you saw after a particularly sweaty workout. Muscles toned and throbbing, glistening with perspiration. Towel absentmindedly tossed around his neck.

“You’re kinda a slut,” John would say with his arms bulging across his chest. Joking, of course. This was how you joked back and forth. Watching you bend over to pick something up. Making sure to arch your back and stand even slower so that he could get his fill.

“Yeah? You’re kinda standing there watching like a whore,” you shrugged. Throwing the towel that you had picked up straight at him. Catching it in his large palm like it was nothing. Hooded eyes watching you walk over to him. Head tilted ever slightly.

“I’m not the one letting my ass hang out of my shorts,” John cocked a brow.

“Hmmm,” you tapped your chin, “You should though. Get you some tight, slutty camp counselor shorts. Have it say ‘U.S.A.’ across the ass cheeks. It would be a good show.”

Not letting him win. Only playing further into his game. Causing his face to flush and brows to contort when he could not come up with a clever come back.

“Shut up,” John would roll his eyes.

You would blow him a kiss as you kept walking. Unable to see his eyes lasering into you from behind. Making sure to sway your hips because you knew he was watching. Tongue wetting his bottom lip, trying not to let the way his cock throbbed be too obvious.

“Wow,” John said.

You gave him a closed mouth smile. Folding your hands over in front of yourself. Pushing up on your tiptoes and widening your eyes, “Hi, Walker.”

“You look beautiful,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” you tugged at the sides of the dress, “That suit really makes your eyes pop.”

“O-Oh, yeah? Val sent me to come get you,” he deviated, putting a fake laugh over his words.

“Limou already here?”

John nodded. Still taking in every detail of you. Wanting to make sure he kept the memory forever. You looked so good. So stunning.

You walked to the elevator together. Meeting the rest of the Team along the way. Bucky, Yelena, and Alexei. Valentina could not even begin to force Ava to attend. Not good with crowds, plus it was difficult to get an outfit that would hide her suit. And, well, Bob. Not exactly liked by the public. And she did not want to leave him alone, just in case he began spiraling. It was better to have someone stay behind just in case he needed anything.

Alexei wore a crimson red suit. Freshly shaved head glistening in the lights and jewelry decorating every finger. Sunglasses adorning the New Avengers logo on the side resting on his nose. Yelena wore a white dress. Off shoulder, hair braided along the sides. A stunning full face of makeup, complete with a glittery eye. And Bucky wore a black suit. White undershirt with a black tie. Looking very professional. Classic.

The five of you stepped into the elevator together. John, Alexei, and Yelena ended up against the back side. You and Bucky standing in front of them. Catching his sideways glances at you. Looking over at him with a smile.

Bucky leaned over, lips almost touching your ear, “You look nice.”

Your cheeks heated up at the compliment. Eyes scanning his face, catching his oceanic stare. The corner of his mouth curved upward. Brows sitting heavy on his eyes. One of them barely arching like he was challenging you.

“Thank you. So do you,” you leaned and whispered back to him.

As if everyone else in the elevator could not hear you. Yelena and Alexei exchanged a knowing glance, both of them having to hide their laughter. Yelena peered over to John. His jaw locked. Chest puffed up as his lip twitched. Vein along his temple bulging as his eyes shot through Bucky’s chest.

Yelena pinched at her father’s coat, discreetly pointing to Walker. Alexei’s eyes widened as his jaw hung slacked. Looking back to his daughter with shock. Looking like there was about to be a war tonight.

John tried to steady his breathing. Hating the little giggle that laced your response to Bucky. Becoming enraged by the way Bucky’s eyes ravaged your entire body. Knowing Bucky’s intention, and not liking it. His fists balled at his sides. Curling his fingers in and out as he tried to calm down. It would have been easier if Bucky would stop looking over at you with that shiteating grin of his.

Quickly, Yelena got her phone out to send a text updating Ava on the possible drama of the night. Ava responding almost immediately, ‘KEEP ME UPDATED.’

This was going to be fun.

Ding of the elevator door told you you had reached the ground floor. Bucky’s hand meeting the small of your back as he guided you out. His other hand casually tucked into his pocket. Rest of the team following tightly behind.

John was seeing red.

Watching how nonchalantly you followed his lead. Acting as if you did this often. The words the two of you shared were drowned out by the ringing of John’s ears. Only able to watch how you talked with one of your hands, and how Bucky kept smiling at you. It was so easy for him to hate any man who kept his eyes on you.

The sun had set. Glow of the street lamps the only thing that allowed your eyes to adjust outside. All of you stepping onto the sidewalk, greeted by a limou and Valentina in a sparkling red dress.

“What a good looking bunch!” she clapped her hands and squatted a little in excitement. Showing off her pearly whites with her chuckle. Eyes fixating on how closely you and Bucky stood. Pointing between the two of you with a grin. Widening her gaze with a bounce of her brows.

You rolled your eyes at her. Blowing your breath out hard as you crossed your arms over your chest. An over exaggerated wink was given to you.

“Alright, New Avengers, let’s get to it!” Valentina gestured towards the opened door of the limousine. None of you moved. Awkward silence only broken up by the distant sounds of the streets. Honking and buzzing of lights.

“Okay…” Valentina’s voice trailed off as she put her hands in the prayer position to her lips, “Yelena— in first!”

Yelena shrugged. Encouraging her father to join her. The two of them taking turns getting in, Alexei gave Valentina a dirty look before entering. “I can drive limousine,” Alexei gritted his teeth, words laced with anger.

“I know, big guy,” Valentina patted him on the shoulder. Nodding with her head low in defeat. Eyes widening at the remaining three of you.

“Come on,” Val encouraged.

Bucky stepped forward first, turning to offer you his hand. Accepting it graciously. Giggling softly as he led you forward. Turning to reach your free hand out of John. Grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him behind you. Stumbling at first, quick to correct his mistake. You smiled widely back at him, no longer looking at Bucky. John could not stop the way the corner of his mouth upturned in response.

The three of you taking the seats across from Yelena and Alexei. You sat in the middle of the two super soldiers. Hands folded neatly in your lap.

“Alright, Super Troopers, I’ll see you there,” Valentina waved from outside the door.

“You’re not coming with us?” Yelena questioned.

Valentina laughed, “Showing up with you ragtag bunch? Absolutely not. Keep on your best behavior, remember how many cameras will be there. I’ll find you all later. Don’t say or do anything damning!”

She slammed the door as a punctuation. All of you looking at each other with hints of confusion and bit of aggravation. For someone so invested in this New Avengers thing, Valentina sure did not dedicate herself to the group aspect as she should have. Easier for her to put the blame on all of you when things went wrong this way.

“Of course,” Yelena said unimpressed.

“Devil woman,” Alexei growled.

You chuckled. Pushing your body into John’s, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m surprised,” you admitted looking across to Yelena. Giving her a closed mouth smile and a shrug.

All of you shared in your soft laughter. Allowing yourself to be as calm as possible before the storm that awaited you. Your hand mindlessly rested on John’s thigh for a moment. It consumed his mind. Just how easy it was for you to touch him. The way your body instinctively leaned into his. Almost like a couple. Deciding to relax his own arm across the back of the shared seat. Like it was around your shoulders, just without the blatant physical touch. Fingertips nearly touching Bucky’s metal shoulder. Reminding him of what had him angry to begin with.

Bucky peered over at John. Blue eyes telling him he was aware of the game the two of them were playing. Confirming the suspicions he had been festering on. The two boys had never gotten along. From the moment they met, there was an animosity between them. Steve Rogers’, our original Captain America’s, best friend versus the man the U.S. Government had decided to give the mantel to. There was no world in which they saw eye-to-eye. Especially after John had so distastefully disgraced Steve’s legacy. A legacy that Bucky was all too intertwined in.

You were unaware of the war waging over you. Discussing all the possible public figures you would be seeing tonight with Yelena and Alexei. Recalling some of the events of the battle against Thanos, explaining how severe everything had been leading up to the Blip. Able to vividly see all your old teammates dissipating on the battle field in Wakanda. All their dust simply floating away like they had never existed. The sound of the purple alien’s gauntlet snapping haunted your memory. Distant. Yet still the most powerful noise you had ever heard.

“You can ask Bucky. He got blipped on the battlefield,” you gestured towards him.

Pulling his attention away from his newfound rival. Oceanic eyes looking at you with contorted brows. A little confused. Only having been half listening to your conversation. You widened your eyes at him realizing that he had not been paying attention.

“The Blip..? In Wakanda,” you whispered with a smile that tried to hide your laugh.

“OH! Right, sorry,” Bucky ran his hand over his hair, “It was like one minute you were here then you were gone. Returning five years later was difficult. The world had changed, almost moved on from all of us. Everyone I knew had… changed.”

“That’s why this Gala is so important. Half our population disappeared and reappeared. Coming back to their homes being taken over. All their stuff discarded somewhere that they were forced to find, if it hadn’t been thrown away. We’re raising money so these people can get back to normal,” you said patting your hand on Bucky’s leg. Smiling at him.

John coughed trying to hide his anger. Unknowingly pulling all eight eyes on him. Causing all of you to think he was interjecting in some way. You raised a brow questioning him.

“Got something you wanna add, Walker?” Bucky challenged him.

“Uh— no. Nope. Blip was bad. You guys saved the world from a giant purple alien-guy and his army. We’re all impressed,” jealousy spat from him like venom.

Tension returned between you. The air growing tight in the small back of the limousine. John’s unbothered attitude making your stomach churn a little. Aware there had to be something else going on with him. Normally, he would not act this way when such a serious topic was brought up. You stared at him blankly. Causing the realization of what he said to wash over him. Repositioning himself so that his hands were folded in his lap, leaning himself forward a bit.

“Jesus,” Yelena whispered to Alexei. Looking to you and bouncing her eyes wide for a moment.

It was hard for you to look at John now. Awkwardness building a wall between you. Focusing your attention back to Bucky, voice hardly above a whisper. Quizzing him on statistics about the Blip. He was a Congressman after all, he needed to be able to answer any and all questions they could possibly ask him. Growing a little smug as he continued to remember each number down to the decimal. Smiling as the two of you laughed about an old joke from the days of the Avengers.

Flexing of metal fingers caught your attention.

“Your arm bothering you?” you looked down to his palm.

Fingers expanding and retracting repeatedly. Soft hum of mechanical noises meeting your ears. The black and gold digits ceased their movements at your question.

“Yeah. It’s all good. Just sometimes like to move ‘em,” Bucky’s skin between his eyebrows creased. Offering his hand to you, “Wanna feel?”

Of course you were not going to pass up an opportunity to take a closer look at some foreign tech. Gifted to him from the late Prince of Wakanda. His sister, the new Black Panther, being the tech whizz of the two of them. Shuri was gifted beyond your comprehension, so any chance to check out her work was like a gift to you. Your fingers traced the cool vibranium. Amazed by how similar it was to a real arm.

John swore he could have pulled a gun on the former Winter Soldier. Your words bleeding into a muffled hum. Only able to watch how you leaned over his lap, guiding his arm in each and every direction. Touching him. Over and over again. Each tap of nails or soft rub of fingertips had his teeth grinding.

All of you casually chatted the rest of the ride. John sat with his eyes closed. Eyebrows upturned as he tried to steady his breathing. His leg bouncing up and down as an outlet for everything he was feeling. Replaying the moment prior. Punishing himself for how he acted. It was what he deserved.

The bounce of his leg caught your attention. Eyes quickly looking to his face. The outline of his locked jaw and furrowed brows met you. Deep in thought. He was isolating himself. This was how he dealt with his emotions. Pushing everyone and everything away. Dwelling on all the bad.

You softly flattened your hand on his knee. Your thumb rubbing circles into the expensive fabric. His eyes shot open, looking at your manicured nails splayed across him. Peeking over to see your side profile. Smiling as you talked to Alexei about Steve Rogers. Your other hand wildly gesturing to emphasize your point. Not even giving John a sideways glance.

It annoyed him slightly. The casualty in which you knew how to calm him down. Ground him when he needed it. The way you smiled and it showed off your beautiful teeth. Gracing the others with the pleasure of seeing it in its entirety. Not even letting him get a look. Yet it was him who you rested your hand on. His body you had previously pressed your weight into. It was all a little confusing, which is what got under John’s skin.

The limousine halted to a stop. Caught in a line of traffic, every other vehicle seemingly arrived at the same time. You looked over your shoulder at the paparazzi outside. Clicking and flashing of far too large cameras was drowned out by the talking of everyone. Thankful for the tinted windows that hid you from their view.

Alexei chuckled in anticipation, “The Avengers will be on every cover story tomorrow!”

“That might not be a good thing,” John said as he rested his chin against his knuckles. Peering out the window at everyone dressed in their finest attire. Praying that you all would not stand out like a sore thumb. Each of your public images still on thin ice with the press.

You cringed at the thought, meeting John’s eyes and giving him a closed mouth smile. Both of you turned inward towards one another. His shoulders rose in a soft shrug. Taking a deep breath before looking back out the window.

“Not all of us publicly executed someone, Walker,” Yelena said with a mischievous grin.

John’s head quickly whipped back to look at her. Scrunching his nose up as he faked a laugh. Nodding at her, then rolling his eyes. “Yeah? Well, you have more blood on your hands than I could ever manage. So,” he scoffed, waving at her.

“Don’t start,” Bucky groaned already annoyed with this.

You lovingly rolled your eyes at the bickering. Yelena loved to get under John’s skin. Easily riling him up with a mention of his family or his time as Captain America. It usually ended with him letting all his anger out on a punching bag in the training room. Or coming to your room to vent about it all.

A thick silence filled the space. All of you waiting for the door to open. Your freedom barely a few feet away. Stuck in the tin-can with everyone holding knives at each other’s throats. You continued to watch elegant women and men strut up the stairs of the venue. Posing for pictures with their designer purses and shoes. Almost feeling inferior to the rich upper crusts.

“I’m nervous,” you closed the small gap between you and John so you could whisper into his ear.

“Yeah?” cerulean eyes looked into yours, voice low so the others could not hear.

You sighed as you nodded. Lips piercing together as you tried not to let yourself get overwhelmed. Being thrown into the spotlight was one of the most difficult adjustments of your life. Having to ignore every headline and article.

“You know how they like to talk about me in the news,” you fidgeted with one of the bangles on your wrist.

And he did know. Every chance they got, there was a new article about your personal life. Spotted at a coffee shop, walking in the park, getting lunch with an old friend. It all somehow circled back to you being, what they would call, a ‘temptress.’ You were never allowed to have casual relations with anyone. Platonic luncheons being misconstrued as another blossoming romance for you. Or worse, you sleeping around. That was the stories they liked to run most.

It all overshadowed your abilities as a hero. You could usually ignore it. But when you would walk down the streets and see magazine covers and newspaper headlines all covering where you had went to dinner the night before, it made you sick. Unsure why you had been their target so often. You were a competent fighter. Trained by S.H.I.E.L.D. and having spent some time in Wakanda learning their battle methods. Not including your intellect for building suits and weapons.

Yet somehow it was always about the newest person you were spotted with.

John hated the way your frown would tug your lips down after another story broke. People were not exactly supportive of the New Avengers. Memes and blogs dedicated to how big of a joke you all were. Forcing you all to grow tough skin. It did not change the way John’s heart would break when he saw you teary eyed sitting on one of the couches. Phone held in your hand as you scrolled through another article. Reminding him of how he had been. Falling down the rabbit hole of self hatred. He would do whatever he could to make you feel better. Sitting down beside you to show you some old video that he had found funny in his first years of basic training. Or asking if you had seen some movie or heard a new song. Anything to distract you from wallowing. Loving the way you would try and hide your laugh. Tucking your face into his shoulder as you leaned into him.

John’s hand patted your thigh. Igniting your flesh as your heart skipped a beat. Doeing your eyes up at him inquisitively. A knowing look behind his eyes accompanying the soft curve of his lip, “I also know that they’re a bunch of assholes.”

Your cheeks beamed. Smiling at him widely. This was the John you knew. Kind, knowing exactly how to make you smile. Butterflies fluttered around your stomach.

The door opened with a loud click. The loud sound of the press and attendees met your ears. Shuttering of cameras, loud questions from news reporters, all wrapped in a bow of smooth jazz blaring from some speakers.

Your chest tightened. Caging you in with your anxieties. Watching as your teammates all began out like this was a normal experience. All of them standing from their seats. It was like your feet were glued to the floor. Hands locked together as you watched Alexei and Yelena exit first. The Red Guardian shouting loudly in excitement as he waved to each camera. Yelena keeping a cool head as she always did. Waving nonchalantly to the paparazzi as they called her name.

Your time with the Avengers had not been like this. Flaunting around, feeling like celebrities on a red carpet. You were a behind the scenes type. Able to stay in the shadows unless needed out in the field. Never being the one they sent to talk to news outlets. Only tagging along to big headline events on rare occasion.

Your breath was teetering. Blinking over and over trying to will yourself to get up. The lights shining in through the door blurred. Your ears rang. Able to see the dark outline of someone offering a hand out to you. Taking it before your eyes fully refocused. Dazed as you were led out onto the steps of the venue. Able to switch into a smile as fast as your feet hit the ground. Waving with your free hand to the press as the hand remained in yours. Finally looking to see whose name would be next to yours on the newspaper tomorrow.

Navy blue suit jacket spanning across a wide back. Confidence exuding from the Super Soldier who helped you out. A smile that gleamed in the reflection of spotlights. Strawberry blonde locks and beard adorning his head.

John Walker.

It was like time slowed down when he looked over his shoulder at you. Everything around you disappeared. Cerulean eyes sparkling as they met yours. Pearly whites on display. The softest shade of pink washed over his cheeks. Swearing he had never looked so handsome. For a moment it was like he was your knight in shining armor. Like Cinderella running away from the ball, except in the hands of her suitor.

The feeling of a hand on your other wrist distracted you. Pulling you out of John’s grasp. Contorting your brows as you turned to see who had interrupted you.

Valentina.

Dragging you over to be standing with Bucky. He was already being questioned by several reporters. Microphones shoved in his face. Stern exterior never cracking for a minute. Practically being shoved into his shoulder, deep blue eyes looking over to you with a smile and soft ‘hi.’ Your hand flattened against his bicep trying to not fall in front of so many people. Bucky instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you stand. Metal fingers hugged the curve of your hip. Returning his smile with a giggle to hide how truly embarrassed you were.

Every set of eyes on you widened. For the first time, it was like all the chatter subsided. Looking around you to see all the attention on you. Feeling like you could retreat into a shell and hide forever. Your face heated up as you looked to Bucky for an answer.

“Like I was saying,” Bucky redirected to the previous question he had been asked, “Homelessness in the case of citizens who were blipped is a serious epidemic. We are working on finding solutions to this longstanding issue.”

A spark of pride shot through you. You had quizzed him well, he really did know how to handle himself. Even if he was conventionally not a good public speaker.

“And what about you, Miss Y/N?”

You took a deep breath, “The Blip really left us in a confusing state. Not only socially but economically. We are striving towards solutions that work for all parties involved.”

The reporters thanked you both as Bucky raised a hand to excuse you both. Walking along the roped in section. Posing for a handful of pictures. Waving to some people who were holding New Avengers signs. Surprised to see any kind of positive outlook on your team.

“You didn’t have to throw yourself at me to get my attention,” Bucky smirked keeping his facade steady for the cameras.

You snorted, “I didn’t. Valentina dragged me over to you.”

“That’s what I’d say too,” he leaned to whisper in your ear.

You laughed, swatting at his chest. Unfortunately aware of the photo opportunities you were giving the crowd. Stiffening your posture to try and not seem so comfortable with the Congressman. Knowing that laugh you have would haunt you for the next few weeks. Scanning the area for any sign of John. Unable to find his slicked back hair anywhere in the crowd. Able to see the entrance finally. Relief allowed your shoulders to sag. He had to be inside.

You were flagged down by a young, male reporter. Excusing yourself from Bucky, who was being pulled to a reporter on the opposite side. You smiled and greeted the man. Shocked by the lack of video camera in his partner’s hands. Only a photography camera. Snapping pictures of you as you walked over.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, cockiness dripping from his demeanor, “May I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

You nodded, fisting your dress in your hands, “Thank you.”

“Must be hard to be the most attractive girl on your team.”

Your stomach churned. Brows pushing together for only a second, not allowing his cameraman to capture that expression on you.

“I’m not sure I understand—“

“Well, you get out of the limousine with our former Captain America. Just to be seen in the arms of Congressman Barnes. Do you plan on leaving the event with the Red Guardian?”

What a fucking prick.

Looking down at the pin on his lapel. Dawning on you where you had seen the name before. A podcast. Ran by the two men in front of you. The name being some shitty misogynistic ‘joke’ about female heroes. Exclusively discussing female heroes and their personal lives. Shaming and harassing women for years.

You bit the inside of your cheek, not allowing your expression to change. Realizing he had a microphone next to the pin. Must have been live streaming an episode.

“Thanks for the question,” you waved him off, walking away faster than you had approached.

“Oh, come on! Smile a little, honey!”

You scoffed, not turning to give him a second glance. Holding your dress up as you cascaded up the stairs. Reaching the top and seeing Yelena. She was leaned back against one of the pillars, talking to someone you could not see. You rushed over to her. Your hand resting on her shoulder as you greeted her. Introducing yourself to the woman she was talking to. Young, had to be new to college. She was writing a paper on the struggles of female heroes in todays society.

“Thank God I found you,” you sighed, hands resting on your hips with wide eyes. Cupping your hand around Yelena’s ear so you could whisper, “Podcast bro is here.”

Yelena gagged with a laugh. It made you feel a thousand pounds lighter. Laughing right alongside her. She was someone who understood your struggles the way other’s could not always. A certain level of understanding between girls.

“You should send Alexei down to him,” Yelena grinned.

“Oh my God,” you smirked, covering your mouth with your hand as you leaned to laugh.

“I saw all the boys go inside,” Yelena gestured with her pointer finger, “I’ll be in shortly.”

You nodded, shaking the young girl’s hand before waving goodbye to Yelena. Wishing her good luck with the paper. Heading inside to watch over the crowd below. Shocked by the sheer amount of people inside. Shoulder to shoulder. Glasses of champagne pinched between every set of fingers. Soft ballroom music played, some people danced in the center. A stylized number that had them all moving together perfectly.

A man with a tray passed by you, offering a glass to you. Accepting it with a ‘thank you’. Still feeling so out of place with the suits. An echoing belly laugh caught your attention, able to recognize it anywhere. Walking up to the old porcelain railing. Finding Alexei’s crimson suit standing alongside several other men. Recognizing Bucky’s dark hair from the balcony you stood upon. Smiling when Alexei grabbed one of the men by their shoulder harder than he probably should have.

Bucky stood with his hands in his pockets. Stiff posture and cautious eyes scanning the room. Looking up catching you, doing a double take to make sure he was seeing you correctly. Waving up at you. Catching Alexei’s attention. Pointing at you and shouting your name. It made your face flush, embarrassing you as if he was your own father. You waved with a bright smile down at the group who now all were looking at you.

While it was nice to get your eyes on most of your teammates, there was still one missing. You began to circle the upper floor, no sign of the blonde soldier. Growing a bit flustered. Making sure to hide it behind a smile. Sharing pleasantries with each person you made eye contact with.

Preparing to give up. Assuming he must have snuck off somewhere so that he did not have to be seen. Deciding you would just head down and join Bucky and Alexei.

Until a breathy voice said your name. Turning on your heel to see John, hair a little disheveled and breathing a little heavy. Like he had been running. You immediately smiled widely. Almost giddy to see him. You walked to meet him halfway.

“Hi,” you said unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“Hey,” he tried to catch his breath.

John flexed his fist. Stretching out his fingers. Looking around for your other teammates. Surprised he did not find Bucky riding your coattail. "Where is everybody?"

"Yelena's outside. Alexei and Bucky are making friends on the dance floor," you grinned, motioning behind you with your thumb.

"And you're..?"

"Hiding from paparazzi," you joked.

He nodded, hands resting on his hips, "Guess I'm doing the same."

Truly, John felt relieved that you were alone. Expecting Bucky to be making the moves on you. After the look he gave him when his hand wrapped on your waist, all bets were off. Chivalry being the last thing on his mind from that moment onward. He had to get some air. Storming off to the side of the building. Pushing past each and every reporter that questioned him. Hands tethering through his hair as he squatted against the cold exterior. Needing to calm down before he made a fool of himself and the entire team. Putting himself back to the moment you got out of the limousine together. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him. Like he was the hero in your own personal fairytale. No one had looked at him like that in so long.

Finally able to take a real breath. Standing up and composing himself. Flattening down his coat and pants. Starting to round the corner when he heard your voice. Peeking around the corner to see you being questioned by a young man. Admiring the way you composed yourself, until he heard that stupid fucking question come from the boy. Not fully convinced he had heard him correctly. Watching the way you tensed up and your face flushed. Stammering out a question before he continued. Insinuating things about you that simply were not true. The look in your eyes as you all but ran from the idiots set John off.

Waiting until the two boys stepped away snickering to act. The two of them taking hits of their small vapes before John grabbed them by their collars. Shrieking like their entire lives flashed before their eyes. Confused and scared. John made sure to rip the two small microphones off their lapels and smash them into the concrete. The boys not recognizing the man whose hands were pinning them up against the wall at first. Curses falling from their mouths over and over. John's eyes lasered into them. Ready to strike.

"You guys like picking on pretty girls?"

The two boys choked, hands clawing and prying at John's arms. Holding them firmly up in the air.

"H-Holy shit. Bro, it's John Walker," the camera boy strained and swatted at his partner.

John looked between them, pulling forward to slam them back once more, "Answer the fucking question!"

"Jesus Christ, dude! You're, like, the exact type of guy we do the show for!"

That only enraged him more. His public image really had gone completely down the drain. Losing all credibility he had as the residential good boy on the block. Painted a monster and complete asshole to the public. If they were going to see him that way, he might as well give them a reason to.

"You don't know a thing about me," John all but growled.

"Oh, I get it," the cocky main man started, "Your little girlfriend send you over here? Thought she was plenty capable to fight her own fights. Poor Y/N, needing her junior varsity boy-toy to come save her from the mean men on the internet," he mocked John.

John stared at them. His head falling forward as he released his grip slowly on the two of them. Their feet met the ground, but they were frozen. John's shoulders bounced as he laughed. Confusing them further. Giving them a moment to really think they had won.

"Um, dude—"

John reared back and punched the main boy in the mouth. Knocking him to the ground. Swiftly repeating the action on the camera man. The two boys laid unconscious on the ground. John shook his fist before straightening his coat. Fixing his appearance before returning to the event.

" 'm just happy I finally caught up with you," John smiled.

"Me too. I'm feeling a little out of my element here," you tried to hide your nerves.

"And about earlier—"

"Y/N, I'd like you to meet Congressman Gary," Bucky's voice interrupted.

Quick to plaster on your most convincing smile. Extending your hand out to him, "It's a pleasure, Congressman."

"Please, the pleasure is mine," he smiled.

"John F. Walker," he stepped forward offering his hand to the politician, "Former Captain America."

"Oh, I know who you are, son," his tone reeked of disdain.

It was like a shot directly through John's chest. Overtly aware of the way everyone here perceived him. Not expecting such blatant disrespect, especially from a member of Congress. In the country he gave everything to defend. Just for them to kick him to the curb when he did something they did not approve of. Moreso something that made their public image look bad.

You tapped your fingers discreetly along John's palm to let him know that what the man had said was not okay. At least he would always have you on his side.

"Congressman Gary has invited the two of us down to his table," Bucky explained, "Care to join us?"

"Oh! Uh—" you looked to John whose brows were upturned slightly, "Well, I... What about—"

"She'd love to, Buck," John answered for you, his hand splaying along your lower back. Urging you forward into the arms of his enemy. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you looked up at John. Silently questioning why he would do this.

John knew it was important to you to get your name and reputation cleared. Conversing with a Congressman certainly had to give you some form of credibility that outshined the tabloids. Even if it meant he was practically waving a white flag to Bucky.

"I think she can answer for herself, Walker," Bucky quipped monotonous.

John glared at him. Anger coursing through his veins. Ready to settle things with the older soldier outside.

"John—"

He leaned down so he could whisper in your ear, "It's okay. I know this is important for you. Make the most of it. We can catch up later, sweetheart."

Addition of the pet name caused your face to flush. Reluctantly being pulled away by Bucky. Looking back at John. He resembled an abandoned puppy. Blue eyes wide and pleading with you to come running back into his arms. Tucking his hands into his pockets as the forced smile faded from his face. Walking away from where you were being led. Losing sight of him in the crowds of people.

Refocusing your view forward. Bucky led you through the crowds of people effortlessly. Offering you his hand to assist you down the stairs. Smiling as you mumbled to yourself with each step. Coaching yourself through keeping balance.

The table full of bureaucrats narrowed in your vision. All their eyes looking to you and Bucky. He introduced you, leading to an abundance of handshakes and pleasantries. Pulling the vacant chair out for you, pushing you in. Taking the seat directly beside you.

It felt like a million years. Answering question after question. Discussion after discussion. The Adamantium Conflict. The Housing Crisis. Dimensional Rifts. Reminding yourself that you were representing all your fellow Thunderbolts*. Making sure you answered with dignity and grace. Catching Bucky’s eyes throughout the conversations. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he intently listened to you.

Eventually, the conversation fizzled out. Politicians discussing their vacation homes and house boats. Completely out of touch with the issues at hand. Unsurprising to you.

You scanned the room for your other teammates. Alexei was sharing war stories with a group of elderly veterans. Sharing how different things seemed from his point of view. Idealizing the States in a way. Yelena was off speaking highly of her late sister. Making sure to keep her legacy alive, she saved the world after all. And, of course, Bucky beside you.

John was no where to be found. It crossed your mind that he may have left. Everyone had been rather cruel to him tonight, you could not blame him if he did not want to stay around.

You clicked your nails on the table. Lost completely in thought, finally able to attempt at a clear head. Looking around at all the bright lights and dazzling decor. Bucky’s hand rested on yours, pulling your attention to him.

“I could listen to you talk for hours,” Bucky admitted.

Your face flushed, “Thank you.”

You had known Bucky longer than your other Teammates. Flirtatious nature was nothing new to him; he was a playboy back before he got sent off to war. Causing you to assume it was just how he played with you. Never considering his advances were legitimate. Because who didn’t he flirt with?

Hooded blue eyes stared into yours. Like looking into the ocean during a storm. Dark hair and beard accenting his lighter features perfectly. Years of trauma and experience highlighting his forehead and eyes with their roadmap. He was gorgeous.

But something was not right to you.

Scooting of chairs behind you caught your attention. Turning to see all the congressmen extending hands out to their dates and escorting them to the dance floor. Each of them taking a waltz position and gracefully stepping to the music.

So you watched as elegant attendees danced together. Long dresses cascading atop of the porcelain. Heels clicking on the polished floor. Slow strum of the live band calmed you. One of the blue suits causing you to day dream. Imagining you and John centered on the floor. His hand on your hip as you danced together. Losing yourself in his skyline eyes. Everyone around you fading away. Soft smile painting his face as he held eye contact with you. Dipping you and finally—

“Care to join me?”

Bucky had rose from his chair with a hand extended out to you. You blinked.

Cameras shuttered.

Your public image.

“Of course,” you happily accepted. Walking hand and hand out to the middle of the dance floor. One of your hands on his shoulder and the other held in his. His other hand rested on your waist. All eyes were on the two Avengers. Sharing a formal dance so publicly.

Bucky led you. Stepping perfectly in time with the slow, loving music. You analyzed his face. Soft scars decorating his forehead and cheeks. Clearly from his years as the Winter Soldier. The mix of greying hairs in his beard made you grin. Sometimes you forgot just how old he truly was.

“Lots of people watching us tonight,” Bucky’s voice was low. Speaking through his teeth so no lingering eyes could decipher his words.

“I know,” you looked around to see almost every table staring and whispering. Unable to hear their words due to the speakers next to your ears. Able to read their expressions, knowing these journalists would have a heyday.

“Does it make you nervous?”

You whipped your head back to him. Eyebrows knitting for a moment, “Nothing makes me nervous.”

Your guard was up suddenly. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness to your team leader. Easier to lie than be vulnerable.

Bucky chuckled. Eyes squinting up as he smiled.

You glared at him.

He leaned in so that his lips ghosted against your ear, “Do I make you nervous?”

Your bodies were pressed perfectly together. The hand that had been on his shoulder now splayed along his broad back. Heat radiated off your face. Close proximity and the way his breath fanned along your neck had your head fuzzy. His fingertips dug into your lower back with his question. Awaiting some form of a response. Satisfied when you gasped lowly.

“Of course not,” you whispered back.

Bucky pulled back grinning. Spinning you when the music kicked up. You tried to understand him. His intentions were not clear. Unsure if this was longing or lust. Not liking the conclusion you had jumped to.

“What’s your game here, Congressman Barnes?” your voice was low and sultry. Teasing trying to get his facade to break.

Suddenly, he dipped you backwards. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. Eyes sparkling with the chandelier above.

“Whatever you want it to be,” he barely said.

There was an eruption of clapping when the song ending. Making you abundantly aware of the spectacle you had been giving. Not even noticing that the dance floor was empty other than the two of you. Encased in a circle of Bucky’s fellow politicians.

Your throat tightened. The room closing in around you as you caught the eyes of each individual person. Some confused, some awestruck, some disgusted. It was all so overwhelming.

Bucky pulled your hand up to his mouth. Featherlight lips planted themselves there. Your eyes widened as you stared at him. Ears slowly beginning to ring from embarrassment. Cameras flashes. A pit formed in your stomach.

This was all wrong.

Valentina finally met the two of you on the floor. Applauding and laughing. Smile spanning from ear to ear as she spoke to the press before either of you got the chance. You looked around the room as Val smiled for the camera. Shoulders heaving with each deep breath you took. Sweat beaming along your neck and down your back.

Catching a familiar set of eyes.

Everything around you slowed. All air being punched out of your lungs. His face was scalding red. Standing out harshly against his navy blue suit. Brows laying harshly across his eyes as he stared at you. Cold. Distant. Alarming.

John had witnessed the whole thing. Down to the finer details. The way Bucky’s hands held onto you like you belonged to him. How you followed his every move and your bodies looked so perfect pressed together. A hole forming in his chest. Stomach knotting.

This was wrong.

Your eyes welled up immediately. How could you let this all happen? You started over to him when Valentina grabbed you by the wrist. You shook your head as you watched John disappear out a side door. The slam causing all the sound to return to you. Bombarded with questions and microphones. Bucky’s arm wrapped loosely around you like before. It was all too much for you to fake happiness. Only able to fight back tears and a broken voice.

How did this happen?

John stormed into a far too tall corridor a few halls down from the main floor. Screaming louder than he had in some time. Punching out a piece of a concrete pillar. Every inch of his body was shaking. Veins on his neck bulging as he strained. He was a fool. Practically handing you over to Bucky just for such a grand spectacle to be made.

Things used to be easy for him. High School Sweethearts with Olivia. A beautiful son he loved dearly. High ranking in the military. Being given the honor of becoming the new Captain America.

It was all ripped from him. Claw marks left in his wake. Achievements. Accolades. Friends. Family. Respect. All gone. His name was a blotch on any and every headline. Causing more people disgust than faith.

He was unsure how much more he could handle. Ready to give it all up until the Thunderbolts* saved him. Finally finding people who saw him as a normal, breathing human being. Flaws and past mistakes not damning to everyone. Only a small part of what made him John Walker. Able to find comfort and validation from the New Avengers. Befriending Bob Reynolds, who he lovingly called ‘Bobby’, bonding with Alexei over shared recipes and cooking tips, razzing back and forth with Ava and Yelena; it had became a family to him.

Especially with you.

Knowing he could fall into your arms at any moment. You were like the warm light from inside when he had been locked out in the cold. Welcoming him with a warm embrace. There was no sign of uncertainty or judgement from you. Even when he would lie and puff his chest to seem bigger and tougher than he was emotionally. Or when you two would get agitated and begin name calling. Slowly beginning to laugh as the you came up with a stupid sounding insult. Unable to remain angry at each other for too long. You liked him for him. When he looked at you, he knew where his home was. Even if neither of you were ever willing to admit it.

And maybe it was all one sided. He was coming to terms with that. Accepting a life where he had to watch from afar as Bucky got the girl of his dreams. Got to hold you every night. Wake up next to you each morning. Simply getting the privilege to be yours.

No.

He could not accept this. Not like this. Forehead pressed into the column, an arm rested above his head. Teeth grinding together as he tried to regain composure. Faint and distant voices alerted him from above. Steadying his breathing as to not give away his cover. Focusing his ears to understand them.

"Didn't you hear? Barnes and Y/L/N are an item," one woman gossiped to her friend. A labored gasp escaping the other woman. Giggling together.

"No!"

"Saw the headline the other day. Guess tonight confirms it," she sipped her drink.

"Sure does like to get around, doesn't she? Thought she had settled down with one of those older Avengers."

John's jaw locked. Fists bruising at his sides. Nails almost breaking the skin in his palm. Blood boiling below the surface. Nostrils flaring with his concentrated breaths. Like a bull having a red flag waved before him. If he had to hear one more stranger utter your name he swore he would lose his mind. Lip twitching as the two women walked off somewhere, voices carrying with them.

You were the topic of all discussion tonight.

Rage was overflowing from him. All these strangers discussing his girl. Acting as if they knew you at all. Painting you as some villain amongst heroes. His teeth were clamped so tight that it was shocking one had not busted yet. Huffing like a bull about to charge. His chest ached. Molten hot blood pumped through his veins as he spiraled with each new thought that entered his mind.

Your hands on Bucky’s chest. Sultry smiles on both your faces. Everyone around you approving and celebrating. Bucky’s hands on your waist and back. Lips nearing in—

“FUCK—“ John punched the same pillar. Losing himself to his anger. Hands scraping against his scalp as he ruffled his own hair. Palm slamming repeatedly against his temple trying to stop the thoughts that intruded him.

This was not going to happen.

Luckily, the crowd around you had died down. Your hands folded neatly in front of you as you stood off to the side. Leaned against a wall as you watched your teammates discuss things with politicians and news outlets. Maybe they would say something that got this target off your back. Sick and tired of being the center of attention.

Your opportunity was here. You could sneak off, even if it was just for a moment. Fresh air calling your name like a siren to a sailor. Taking one final look around the room before slowing backing to meet the door. Discretely escaping into the big empty corridor. Fingers flexing at your sides as you took multiple deep breaths. Looking up at the windows and how the moon shined down on you.

Silence.

Peaceful.

You closed your eyes and flattened a hand over your chest. Feeling the low thump of your heartbeat. Clearing your mind of all the struggles of the evening.

Except one.

John. The pain on his face when the paparazzi and crowds flooded you and Bucky. How quickly he fled from you. It made you nauseous.

Regretting not confessing your feelings to him before tonight. Maybe then all of this would not have been so misconstrued. At the end of the day, you had no interest in a relationship with Bucky. He was charming and would make a wonderful husband… for someone other than you.

John was all you wanted.

And you wish you had told him before now.

The door beside you creaked. Composing yourself so that whoever was going to enter would not see how you were breaking.

A firm grasp pulled you into the vacant hallway. Your back scuffing against the cold porcelain wall. Air escaping your lungs as you grunted from the sheer force. Opening your eyes to see cerulean bulbs staring at you. Brows knitted so tightly together they could have been one.

Sound of your heartbeat thumped against your eardrums. Only able to take small quick breaths, lungs never refilling. Bruising fingertips dug into your shoulders. Keeping you still.

“J-John…?”

Predatory eyes glued into yours. Feeling like a bunny trapped in the jaws of a coyote. Teeth sinking further until you were paralyzed. Knowing any second it would all be over. Fear pumped through your veins in the meantime.

John’s head cocked slowly to the side. Scanning trained eyes down your figure. Soft twitch of his upper lip barely noticeable. Sweat began to form along your brow. Swallowing your dry mouth. Bottom lip quivering as you tried to speak.

His hand came up to caress your jaw. Fingers splaying softly against the side of your jugular. Burning from his touch. Thumb padding at your lip. Dragging it down with his digit. Gently rubbing circles into your jaw with it afterward.

“Everyone’s favorite girl tonight,” his voice was raspy and low.

“Wh-what?”

“All these eyes. All over you. Little Miss Popular,” he smiled, more so resembling a snarl.

You rested your head against the wall behind you, angling your chin so that you could hold eye contact. His pupils were like black holes. Sucking you in, and there was no getting away from him.

"I've been trying to be with you all night," you admitted coyly.

"Barnes keeps taking you from me," he breathed. Jealousy spitting from him like venom. His stern eyes analyzed your reaction. Slight twitch of your eyebrow irritating him.

“You liked it, didn’t you?”

Your stomach flipped, “John—“

“Liked having two guys fight over you,” his hand outlined your side, leading down to your hip, “Getting to be the center of attention tonight. Able to make two super soldiers crumble with a simple flutter of your lashes. Makes you feel real powerful, doesn’t it?”

This was a side of him you had never seen. Overtaken by jealousy for your colleague. Interrogating you like you were a foreign enemy. Intimidating glare locked onto your face.

And you would be lying if you said it did not have every inch of you tingling. Your head was spinning. Musky cologne overwhelming your nostrils. Wanting to touch him. To pull him flush against your body, just to say you could feel him. You mouthed words that could not form. Not sure exactly what he wanted from you like this.

His nose was narrowing in on yours. Lips barely separated as you breathed the same air. Trying to stay as quiet as possible. Almost too afraid to speak and run the other off. The silence was thick. Suffocating you. John’s fingertips dug into your hip, the other hand resting against the wall next to your head.

“Want me to give you back to him?”

You shook your head immediately, “I want you…”

John groaned, eyes squinting shut for a moment. His forehead falling against yours as his lip quivered. Labored breaths rolling throughout his torso.

“Say it again,” John grumbled, fingers bruising your skin.

“I don’t want Bucky. John… I want you,” you said a little more confident. Hands finally mustering the courage to touch him. Flattening against his chest, roaming every inch of his upper half. Fingertips dancing against his chest hair peaking out of his collar.

John’s hand cupped your cheek. Instinctively leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. A low whimper bubbling in the back of your throat. Driving John mad. The feeling of your hands all over him, the way you gave in so easily to his touch, how your voice was lined with desperation; he needed you more than ever.

His head tilted slightly. Slowly and gently pressing his lips to yours. Sparks ignited deep within your guts. Lips locking into yours like they were made for one another. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, folding hands over the back of his neck. His tongue prodded at your lips, testing the waters. You allowed him access as you shifted to meet his lips. Lapping into your mouth as if you were his last meal. Trying to get every last taste on his tongue.

His hands roamed down your back, splaying along your spine and pushing you against his front. Able to feel the stiffening outline at his groin. It heated up your skin, face flushing entirely at the idea. Lips ventured down your throat. Kissing and experimenting with teeth along your pulse. You gasped softly when one of his canines grazed you. Wanting to mark you as his. Leave hickeys and bite marks all where anyone and everyone could see. Especially Congressman Barnes. Teach him to stay away from you.

But he knew better. Knew that would only cause more rumors to spiral, something he could not put on you. He supposed he could wait until he got you alone. Leave some serious marking on your chest. A secret only the two of you would know.

Tapping of shoes against linoleum causes you both to jump. They were above you. Two pairs. Heavier than the ones John had previously heard. Their deeper voices echoed throughout the vacant room. John quickly planted his hand over your mouth. Raising his other finger to his mouth to make sure you would stay quiet. Taking control of the situation. It made your core pulse. His eyes looked upward like it helped him focus on their voices.

“Barnes and Y/L/N. Who would have thought,” one of the men muttered.

“I don’t care. I’m just relieved this is going to take all the heat off the Gala’s back. We’ll be lucky if those two boys don’t make this event the joke of the year,” the other replied.

John’s eyes peered to yours. Jealousy brewing behind his irises. You widened your eyes at him, shrugging.

“It’s probably a good thing someone finally kicked their asses. I don’t even know why they would give those two bozos a media pass. All they do is sexually harass women,” the first man sighed.

John blinked rapidly. His head lowering for a moment. Almost like he was trying to come up with a cover.

You arched your eyebrows at him. Guilt clear on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Woman haters and all that. Who isn’t?” their voices carried away. Remaining in the position John had you held in waiting until they were completely gone. No more footsteps. No more chattering.

John pulled his hand away from your mouth. Taking a deep breath as he looked at you. You smirked knowingly, “John…”

He gritted his teeth as he scoffed. Rolling his eyes over exaggerated. Palming against his hair as he rolled his shoulders. Blown pupils looking into yours. Quickly tucking his face back against your neck.

“I heard what they said to you. Had to teach them a lesson,” he grumbled finishing his sentence with a kiss.

Heat bloomed in your chest. The fact he had taken care of those shitty podcast bros just because they disrespected you. Almost like an ownership over you. As badly as you needed to scold him in this moment, you were flattered. Your protector.

John hooked one of his hands around the back of your thigh. Arching it around his waist as he inhaled deeply. Taking in the smell of you like he would possibly forget it one day. Stiffened member rested against your core. Layers of clothing making it a little more difficult to feel, but he was there. One of your hands tangled in the back of his hair. Whispering sweet little moans into his ear.

You were driving him absolutely insane. His restraint was slipping with each breathless sigh in his ear. Each swipe of his tongue against your collar. How perfectly your bodies felt pressed together. He had waited so long for you, longer than he was ever willing to wait before. It was all about to crumble.

His hand roamed under your dress. Skillful fingertips finding the band of your panties, tugging at it. Rimming the waistline, barely dipping his fingers beneath. Hungry lips traveled up your throat, resting open on the sensitive spot right below your ear. Huffing loudly like all the air had been punched out of him.

“Need you,” was all he could force out. Rolling his hips against your core. Chasing the feeling of your warmth. You cracked out a moan. Gingerly, he pressed kisses along your jawline, “Tell me you need me too.”

It was almost desperate. His insecurities showing for barely a moment. Wanting validation. Needing to hear you say how badly you needed him. Vindicating all his actions tonight. His anger. Jealousy. Loss of control.

“I need you, but… we can’t… not here,” you sighed, one hand clawing against his back muscles.

“I’ll run back to that goddamn tower with you in my arms if it means I can have you,” John admitted.

“We can catch a cab,” you suggested instead. The implication that he was this wound up had your head fuzzy. John pulled back to meet your gaze. Smiling widely.

In a flash, you were being dragged out the side exit. John helped you down the stairs, making sure to keep a pretty image for any wandering eyes. Walking a little funny to hide the tent that was pitching in his slacks. Walking a short distance down the street to get away from the glitz and glam of the Gala. Catching a standard yellow cab. John let you in first.

John instructed the driver of the address. Leaning back and planting his hands firmly in his lap. Something shifted when you left the highly tense environment of the banquet. Almost like neither of you would dare look at the other. Lines of streetlights would pass over each of your faces. Staring out the windows on either side of the cab. Your heart was racing. Pulse thudding against your eardrums. Your entire body was hot to the touch. It all seemed fake, maybe that was why you did not dare make eye contact. Too afraid of pushing the other away. It was intimate.

John rested his hand on the small space between your seats. Catching your attention, almost like an invitation. You grazed your fingertips over the top of his hand. Watching how he tried to look over at you without moving his head. His cheeks were red. Leg bouncing with anticipation. Your fingers wrapped around his palm, makeshift hand holding.

Goosebumps traced down his arms. Swallowing the large lump that had swollen in his throat. After harboring all these feelings for you for so long in secret, it felt fake. Never could he have believed you would reciprocate.

You shifted in the back of the cab. Scooting and closing the distance between you. John barely dared to turn his head, soft eyes meeting yours. You flattened a hand on his thigh, pushing yourself against him. Your lips trailed up his neck to his ear. Barely leaving kisses in your wake. His lip quivered. Arm snaking around you to grip onto your hip. His tongue darted out to wet his drying lips.

“Your room or mine?” you traced a finger up his thigh, landing on the place he longed for you most. Palming him slowly overtop his zipper.

His head fell backwards as he sighed. Trying to catch his breath and form a cognitive thought. His lips were parted as he attempted to think. Digits bruising into your side.

“Come on, Cap. Give me an answer,” you teased, kissing up his jaw and resting your mouth directly next to his.

John shivered.

“Keep it up and we won’t make it inside,” his voice had dropped an octave. Eyes completely black and hungry. Capturing your lips in his. His other hand coming up to grasp your face, holding you in place as he shifted. Guiding you onto his lap, straddling his thigh. You gasped. Friction feeling obscenely good against your core. Rolling your hips slowly. Breaking the kiss to press your forehead into his. Panting the same air between you. Trying your hardest to stay quiet. Until he bucked his leg up forcing you to rut against his strong muscle. You whined as you fell into him.

You were like two wild animals. Not caring about your driver. Not caring how desperate you seemed. Just needed friction and warmth. Wanting to be as close together as possible.

You held your breath as the vehicle stopped. Looking out the window to the front of the New Avenger’s Tower. Relieved to not see any lingering cameramen. John thanked the driver and paid before practically yanking you out.

Swiftly retreating into what would now be your safe haven. His hand was firm on your wrist. Tugging you into the elevator. His hands were on your face before he could even think. Kissing you again. Both of you giggling and smiling as he pushed you back into the wall.

“Mine,” he muttered barely audible, “All mine.”

It had you trembling. The elevator stalled and you both stiffened up. Having to prepare just in case the two remaining members of your team just so happened to be in the hallway. The doors slid open and John peeked his head out. Able to hear the speakers of the television from behind Bob’s door. Ava was no where in sight. Given, she could be basically anywhere she wanted in an instant.

He reached his hand back to you, pushing his finger to his lips as he guided you out. Both your far too fancy shoes clicked against the waxed floor. Traversing the dark hall, your end goal basically in your grasp. You both held your breath when you reached his door. Binging of the keypad made him cringe, like someone was blaring an airhorn in this silence.

The door breathed open. Giddily, John allowed you to step inside first. Making sure to lock the door behind you both. It was dark. Moonlight beaming through the far too tall transom window above his bedside. Stars barely visual from the light pollution of the city. His room was well kept. Bed made perfectly. Not a single piece of discarded clothing to be found. Not surprising for the veteran, that boot camp spirit still resided in his chest.

“Finally alone,” his voice echoed off the heightened walls. Hands outlining the curves of your figure. Coming up to grope at your breast, your back pressed perfectly against him. Greedy lips kissed up the back of your neck. You shivered.

“I’ve wanted to tear this dress off you since I first saw you today,” John growled in your ear as his hands crinkled the fabric between them. You leaned further into him, arching your ass so that it pressed firmly into his groin. His hands began to pull the zipper down your back. Exposing your bare skin to the chill of his room. Starting to push it off your shoulder when you spun around to stop him.

“Eager, eager,” you chastised with a grin.

John’s brows bounced up his forehead as he stared at your chest. Loose dress slipping to reveal more of your breast, barely teasing at your nipples.

“Can you blame me? I’ve had to watch you flaunt around all night. Rubbing your hands all over me in the limou then flirting with Bucky right in front of me? You’re a goddamn tease,” John snickered, hint of jealousy spitting with his words.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you squeezed your arms together at your front so that your breasts pressed together, faming ignorance. The fabric of your dress was barely holding on at the curve of your chest. John’s eyes could not leave the temptation. Swearing that if he stared hard enough all your clothes would fly off.

You stepped and grabbed at his suit jacket. Trailing gentle digits up it and beginning to edge it off his shoulders, “How can you call me a tease when you’re dressed like… this.”

John’s head fell to the side, sizing you up. Expression flat and eyes analytical. Shining in the reflection of the moon. Lips sealed fighting off the smile that wanted to creep across his face. Cocky eyes urging you to continued.

“Shirt unbuttoned showing off your chest,” you opened his jacket, “Stupid fucking dog tags that you knew I’d see.”

You had made an offhand comment once about them dangling in your face as he fucked you… a joke, or atleast at the time what you thought was a joke.

John shedded the overcoat into the floor. Muscles bulging against the size-too-small black button down. Plush bit of his tummy pressing against the bottom buttons. Still fit, just more of a dad bod than his active days in the military. Slow and sensually, he undid his buttons. One by one. Painstakingly slow and taunting. Revealing his chest that was decorated in unkempt hair. Freckles and scars. Chain dangling along his clavicle. He looked fucking delicious.

You gawked at him. Eyes raking down and landing on the bulge in his dress pants. John snapped his fingers, pointing them to his eyes, “Your turn.”

Rushing to your core. His demanding side turning you on more than you ever thought it would. You needed him. Desire to please him filling every bit of your being. You slowly began rolling your dress off your shoulders. Just before your bare breasts were revealed, you turned your back to him. Sliding it off so that your entire back was visible. Fancy fabric pooling around your ankles, revealing the lace thong you wore.

John grunted in disapproval and arousal. Eyes raking down the curve of your ass. Beautifully accented by the lace. You looked over your shoulder at him, lip pulled between your teeth. Grin pulling at the corners of your lips. Darkened pupils locked harshly on the sides of your rear spilling out the sides of your panties. Jumping up to meet yours, eyebrow arched.

His shoes clicked against the floor as he walked over to you. Harsh hands pushed you forward. Your front slamming into the mattress. Back arching off it. Soft linens adorned its top. You were shocked at the sheer force he used against you. Calloused digits ghosted down your sides, digging firmly into the dips of your hips. A growl escaping his throat as he massaged the tender and plump flesh, “Always a fucking tease with you.”

You gasped when he planted a firm smack to your skin. The crack echoes across the walls reverberating in your core. You whined. Arching yourself further into his touch. Hands became kind suddenly when he rubbed them against the red forming mark. Outlining the whale tail at your lower back. Stretching the lace with one finger, hooking around to begin pulling it down. Losing patience and ripping them effortlessly.

Cold air fanned over your core. Causing your throbbing cunt to pulse around nothing for a moment. Needing his touch more than you realized when you felt how slick your folds were. You squirmed trying to urge him into touching you, earning yourself a click of his tongue. Your breasts pressed into the soft duvet, nipples hardening as you rubbed against it.

“What is it, baby? Wanting me to touch you? Huh?” one of his hands turned and cascaded down the curve of your cheek. Fingertips nearly touching your puffy lips. His hint of mockery had you gasping for air. Needing him.

“Please John,” you practically whimpered.

“Pretty when you’re this desperate,” he slid one finger through your lips. Coating himself in your juices as it coaxed up to your nub. Circling it slow with hardly any pressure. It was nearly painful. Your hips bucked and your lungs tightened.

You felt him lean over your back. His bare front tickling your now sweat ridden skin as he planted a kiss on your shoulder blade. Then the middle of your spine. Then your lower back. Then your ass cheek. Creeping his way down to where he wanted to devour you. Imagining you would taste like heaven wrapped in a beautiful little bow. Gifted to him like he had finally earned it. A break of some kind. His leg up on his fellow super soldier. It was finally his chance to be happy.

Abruptly, a finger pushed between your folds. Sinking itself halfway into your hole. You called out. His name a prayer that had been withheld from you for so long. It made him gleam.

His other hand flattened against your stomach, pushing you into a more angled arch. Ass in the air and pussy lips directly in front of his foaming mouth. He was drooling at the sight. Pretty and needy, just how he imagined you would be. He cooed your name before lapping into you.

Relentless assault of his tongue had you shifting and almost crying from how good he felt. His finger circled your clit as he pistoned his tongue in and out of your hole. Tasting as sweet as honey. The finest delicacy he had ever had the honor of feasting on.

And he was good. Almost too good. Like he already knew the ins-and-outs of your body. The way the slow drag of his finger made you tense and near your orgasm. It had been some time since you were able to find release. Too busy to even begin to think of touching yourself.

John was panting as he continued to work you. Groaning and huffing, sounds growing sloppy as you coated his face. Chasing your high. Walls beginning to tense up.

“You gonna cum on my tongue?”

“Uh-huh—“ you called out with a cry.

“Think Bucky could ever make you feel this good?” John growled between your legs.

You shook your head profusely. Tears welling at the corners of your eyes.

“Say it,” his deep voice boomed through your body.

“No, John. Only you,” you whined. Grinding against his mouth to get closer and closer to sweet bliss. Repeating yourself half coherently as you squinted your eyes.

“That’s it,” John praised, “Give it all to me.”

Air was a faltering force. White lights flashed behind your eyes as you came on his face. Pushing yourself back against his mouth. His beard scraping along you perfectly as he forced his tongue as deep as possible. Mumbling and groaning as you contorted around him. Thighs and calves shaking uncontrollably.

You fell forward. Huffing desperately. Difficult to control your body as it started to come down from its high. “So fucking good, John,” you whispered breathlessly.

It flowed straight to his cock. His mouth wet from devouring you. Wiping himself off on the back of his hand. Wicked grin behind you hidden. You were already drunk in ecstasy. It made him excited. The way his finger was slick with your remnant. The way his name barely mixed with your labored breaths. The way your body tingled and twitched. He was losing himself to it all.

After cleaning his finger off with his tongue, he tenderly patted your side. Understanding your brain was mush by now. Helping you flip onto your back. Hooded eyes stared up at him. Teetering on the line of slumber simply from how good it all felt.

John looked like a man who had just won a race. Shoulders rising and falling rapidly. A glint in his eyes like he was being handed over the grand prize.

You were his trophy.

How you spread your legs to welcome his body between them. Your arms barely reaching out to him, begging for his weight on yours. He snickered at your limp body. “One orgasm and you’re already begging for more?”

You puckered your bottom lip at him. Doeing your eyes up at him with a slight tilt of your head. His stomach twisted. Knowing you were one of the strongest people he knew. Knowing you took shit from no one. He had seen you kick the asses of enemies more times than he could count, just for you to smile at him right after. So to see you so small and needy below him… it awoke something inside him.

John rose to his full height. Finally throwing his dress shirt off his body. Quick to whip his belt from his hips and throw it onto the floor. His pants following suite. Cock straining against the thin elastic fabric of his boxer-briefs. Thick. Curved into his thigh. No other distinguishable features… yet.

He was fit. Thighs and stomach bulging with strong muscles. Arms an obvious muscular asset. Gorgeous. Handsome. Knowing he must have been crowned the Prom King his Senior Year. Every girl would’ve had a crush on him.

“John,” you swooned, “You are so pretty.”

His face flushed at the blunt compliment. All your previous cryptic comments and personality gone. Throwing everything on the table, damn the consequences.

He grinned as he crawled between your legs. Arms framing beside your ribcage, lips falling against your collar. “Yeah? That’s something coming from the Gala’s Favorite Avenger,” he kissed up your neck.

You were growing antsy. Needing to see, and feel, his cock. You had danced around each other for too long. Your patience was gone.

“I need it,” you whined rolling your hips upward.

John’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at you. Cockiness on his brow as he showed off perfect teeth. “Hmmm,” he started, “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Need what exactly?”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

John laughed at your break. Frustration building up inside you like pressure inside a slow cooker. Kissing you once more as he crawled higher, his nose hovering above yours.

You clawed up at him. Nails scratching down his hairy chest. His eyes fell closed, savoring the nice sting. He was enamored by any and everything you did. You were his.

“Is that what you want?”

You suddenly became embarrassed under his strong gaze. Turning your head to avoid his eyes. John chuckled, hand coming up to pinch your chin between tight fingers. Forcing you to look up at him. Smug, and ungodly handsome.

“Don’t act like you have a problem talking,” he smirked.

“I hate you,” you scowled.

“I know, I know. That’s why you’re cumming on my face, right? Why you think I’m so pretty?”

Your hands framed his face, trying to force an intimidating expression. Losing it when his eyes softened as they looked into yours. Smiling like you were the love of his life. Like there was nothing else in the world but you. And it made you shift.

Pulling his lips down to meet yours, “Please. I want to feel you, John.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” John smiled, breath fanning down your face at the confession. He was quick to force his underwear off his body. Cock lewdly smacking against his stomach. Tip flushed red and swollen, a thick vein running around it. Gorgeous. Every fucking inch of him was.

He framed his cock with his hand, hooking one of your legs around his hip. Lining up with your entrance. Looking up at your face once more, “You… want this, right?”

“More than anything,” you knocked away his insecurity.

The corner of his mouth curved for only a moment. Pushing only the head in. Steadying himself. Eyes squinting shut as his brows knitted in thought. Concentration. He would not last long inside you.

Slowly, he pulled back and pushed back in. Taking a few thrusts for you to adjust to him. His hips laid against yours. Heavy balls cradled against your ass. His jaw twitched as he stared in your eyes. You both were breathing with your mouths open.

He began a slow paced rhythm. Not long until his more aggressive urges took over. Slamming into you over and over again. His head craned to watch how your hole welcomed him over and over. Perfect. Designed by God just for him.

He lowered himself, arching an arm around you and pulling you to his chest. Hitting inside you with a new angle. Grunting in your ear with every move of hips. Kissing the side of your face, “Perfect. Fits me perfectly, Y/N.”

You whined his name. Nails close to breaking the skin of his hard back. A secondary wave approaching you, “J-John— I’m gonna cum.”

“I can feel it, baby. Me too,” he admitted. Hips growing erratic and messy. Just chasing that sweet spot inside you. The tip of his cock would bump your cervix occasionally. Sending electrical shocks throughout you. You dug your heels into his back, kissing him with a loud moan.

You came unraveled around him once more. Walls tightening around his cock, pushing him over his own edge. He groaned as he forced his hips flush with yours. Shooting white hot seed as deep into your womb as you would allow it. Almost like finally claiming you as his and his alone. Swearing there was an admission of something more that escaped under his breath. Not that you would acknowledge it.

John slumped against you. Sweat sticking your bodies together. Cock slowly softening inside your walls. The occasional aftershock causing him to want to stay inside you forever. He rolled over, pulling you with him. You both winced as he slipped out.

Comforting, familiar silence filled the space. You nuzzled up beside him, your chin resting on his shoulder as you circled a nail around his bare chest. Tickling the hair that decorated along it. Watching how his chest rapidly rose and fell. Stamina higher than a standard man, but still he got winded.

“Did you… really knock those guys out just for me?”

John’s muscles tensed up. Leaning to look at you. Your eyes were dewy and wide. Convincing yourself there had to be another reason for his actions. Maybe they said something about his ex-wife. Maybe they were dogging him for being an absent father. Maybe—

“Of course I did,” John breathed out.

Your face heated up. Eyebrows rising at his admission. Lips parting as you looked at him in awe. He smiled softly, hooded eyes gazing longingly into yours.

John leaned and placed a kiss against your head, “No one talks to my girl like that.”

You pushed yourself up to kiss his cheek.

Your knight in shining armor.

~~~

*Bonus*

Ava smirked as she watched you and John stumble into his bedroom. Trying to stay quiet, but it did not matter for her. She was able to keep quieter than anyone else. Which was how she hid at the end of the hallway where neither of you noticed her. Perks of her rather painful powers.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket, quickly texting Yelena, ‘Romeo and Juliet just got back.’

Yelena only responded with several question marks.

‘Paris still there with you?’ referring to the Shakespearean tragedy.

Yelena looked around. Realizing you had vanished after becoming the star of the dance floor. Noting how Bucky was still here, but John was not. Quickly putting the pieces of Ava’s cryptic joke together.

‘Y/N AND JOHN?!?!’ Yelena typed out with wide eyes.

Ava simply responded with a thumbs up. Giggling to herself as she phased back into the living room to text her friend until she returned. She would be lying if she said she had not been Team Walker for you.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I know I went heavy into detail with this one, but I just love the idea of two guys fighter over Reader when she only has feelings for one of them. I think John and Bucky are two of the most complex characters we have, so I enjoy writing for them both. I look forward to writing more. As always, my inbox is always open. Send me requests, questions, or anything else you wanna! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated! Love ya //

{tags}

@puppygar ~ @somemadart ~ @person-005 ~ @witchygagirl ~ @illyrianbrat ~ @fire-joestar ~ @imtherain ~